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“That’s most rich guys, isn’t it?” Luke smirked.
“Oh, like you don’t have aspirations to make millions.”
“I do. Off my Instagram account. Eventually.” He religiously posted at-the-gym selfies. Luke had rippling abs and a great smile and if she were to ask any female her opinion of him, she could guess the answer. Her girlfriends in college had labeled him “hot” even when he was younger, and his loyal league of followers contended that he was gorgeous.
“And when you make your millions, will you live on a top floor and invite me over for doughnuts?”
“No. I’ll live on a few hundred acres and buy a llama.”
“A llama.” She hoisted one eyebrow.
He grinned. She shook her head. He was still just Luke to her, no matter what thousands of random women thought of him.
“Tell me about your Valentine’s Day date with Flynn.” He chose an éclair from the white cardboard box. She wiggled her fingers over a bear claw and then a powdered jelly before grabbing another cruller. She was a purist. Sue her.
“It’s not a date. I mean, it is but it’d be the same as if I went out on V-day date with a girlfriend. Like Cammie.”
“Mmm, Cammie.” A quick lift of Luke’s eyebrows paired with a devilish smile.
“No. We’ve been through this. You’re not allowed to date my friends because it’d be weird and awkward and...no.” Plus, Cammie moved to Chicago last year. Sabrina missed having a girlfriend close by.
“Flynn is dating you and he’s my friend.”
“We’re not dating,” she reiterated. “And he’s not your friend. You know him. There’s a difference.”
Affronted, Luke pouted before taking a giant bite of the éclair.
“And we’re not going to a cliché superfancy, elegant dinner. We’re going to Pike Place Market and having breakfast, then hearing a cheesemonger speak about artisan cheeses, and then—”
“Did you just use the word cheesemonger?”
“—and then we’re going to finish up with a trapeze show.” The part she was most excited about.
Luke made a face.
“It’ll be fun.”
“It sounds lame.”
She punched him in the arm but he was asking for it, delivered doughnuts or no.
“I thought you were supposed to be reliving your college years. The Market was built, what, a few years ago?”
“We’re reliving the spirit of our college years.”
“I’ll give you this, Sabs.” He stood to grab the coffeepot and refilled both their mugs. “Your date sounds positively unromantic. Fifty points to you. I guess Flynn is only a friend.”
That rankled her, especially after she and Flynn had been exchanging some eye-locks and subtle touches that had felt, while not romantic, at least sensual.Rather than clue her brother in, or entertain the words sensual and Flynn in the same thought, she mumbled, “Right.”
