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It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but why? Why can’t I just have him when I want him so desperately?
He shifts to face me, and my body blooms with anticipation. Blood rushes through me. Warmth settles low in my stomach. It’s blatant desire, hot and heavy.
Luke’s gaze roves over my face, and I subconsciously lean toward him, so desperate for whatever he’s about to give me.
Then he speaks, and it’s like I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me.
“I’m heading to Texas tomorrow with Harper so she can visit my parents. It’s been planned for a while. Nadine’s dad, Harper’s other grandfather, is in Texas too. I don’t know if I mentioned that. He’s only about an hour from my parents, so it’ll be nice for them all to get to spend time with her.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. My parents have a little bit of land. Not a ranch or anything. People always assume every Texan owns a ranch, but it’s just a few acres out in the hill country. We’ll celebrate her birthday there.” He points to my bandaged finger. “And it works out well, timing-wise. You don’t need to worry about cooking for us while you let your finger heal.”
Someone explain to me the crushing agony of hearing that Luke and Harper are leaving for a week. Why am I sitting here feeling left out as if I should be getting invited on their intimate family vacation too? Like…I enjoy traveling, and I’ve never been to Texas, and grandparents?! I love grandparents! Oh my god, the breads and desserts I could make for Luke’s parents. They would immediately love me. I’d hit ’em with some New York-style bagels, flaky croissants, fancy French macarons. I would make them my Nonna’s spaghetti and really seal the deal.
Luke looks at me expectantly, and I realize I’m not meant to be wallowing right now. I’m supposed to be offering some kind of response. Generally, that’s how conversations work.
“Oh, that sounds really fun.” My tone is all but dead, so I quickly tack on something a bit more lively. “Harper’s going to love that.”
Luke nods, studying me. “You don’t have to stay here, by the way. You could go into the city and actually attend Sunday dinner with your family. I know they’d enjoy seeing you.”
I smile, but there’s no jolly feeling behind it. “Yeah, definitely.”
“And I’d still pay you your normal salary, of course.”
Is that what he thinks I’m worried about?
“No need, truly. You pay me well enough as it is, and I haven’t been spending money on rent or food or anything since I’ve been here. I’m saving a ton. Pretty soon I’ll be hiring my own private chef.”
He unfurls a smile that’s sexy as hell, and I just have to take it. I have to boldly look into the warm sultry eyes of a man who could have my heart served to him on a silver platter (if only he wanted it!) and pretend I’m not falling…all the time, little by little.
“Dad!” Harper’s voice calls from down the hall. “I need help getting the shower started. The knob won’t turn!”
“Duty calls,” I say, standing before he can. It feels vital that he doesn’t see my face before I head upstairs. These tears would be a dead giveaway for my true feelings.
Pretend amnesia? Yeah, kids, turns out it doesn’t work.
TWENTY-ONE
CHLOE
I decide not to tell my parents I’m coming home to visit for the week, which turns out to be a mistake. I should have known they wouldn’t be able to control themselves. When they open their apartment door and see me standing on the welcome mat with my overnight bag at my feet, they scream so loudly one of their neighbors calls 911, having assumed there’s a madman loose in the building.
My mom scoops me inside and fawns all over me. She takes my bag and gives me another tight hug, and it makes me think of Harper’s spindly arms squeezing the life out of me before she and Luke left for the airport this morning.
“I’m going to miss you so much. Are you going to miss us?”
I couldn’t even make eye contact with her as I nodded for fear that I was going to tear up.
I squeezed her right back though, hard. “Take a lot of pictures while you’re there, okay? I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures.”
“Harper, c’mon. We’re going to be late.”
Then she ran outside and Luke stood in the doorway facing me. Neither one of us moved to bridge the gap. He looked as sexy as I’d ever seen him in jeans, a white button-down, and boots. He’d just showered, and his hair was still damp, a darker brown than usual, combed and neatly styled, whereas most days he leaves it a little tousled. I couldn’t decide which I prefer.
