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Mary’s hand found his hair as he knelt beside her. He glanced up to find her studying him intently. “You look tired, Luke.”
“I could say the same for you.”
Mary waved this off. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m good.” There was no way he was going to fill his sister in on what he’d been up to with her newly acquired assistant manager these past few weeks. That he’d been teaching Andy more than just how to surf probably wouldn’t go over well.
Hazel eyes blinked at him. Waiting. Probing. Concerned.
Damn, his sister could be every bit as protective as he was. She wasn’t going to let this go. He had to give her something. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” he finally admitted.
Mary frowned. “Trouble sleeping?”
“Night terrors occasionally.”
“Like the ones you used to have when you were little?”
“Yeah.”
The frown deepened. “Since when?”
“Off and on since Mom died.”
Mary sucked in a breath, then shifted her weight forward to send the chair rocking as she exhaled. “I wish you would have told me. I thought the bloodshot eyes were from all the partying you were doing with Kyle.”
“It’s really not that big a deal. Just the occasional bad dream.”
Quiet a moment, his sister stared at a wall hanging above the crib: a canvas of a mermaid with bright blue hair, thick locks of it swirling about her head like she was some whimsical sea-faring Medusa. Then, “Maybe you should see a therapist.”
With a dismissive snort, Luke rose to his feet. “Mary, I’m fine. I just need to cut back on some of the late nights is all.”
She nodded, but her expression was still pensive as he leaned down to peck her cheek. Before he could pull away, her fingers brushed the scar at his temple. “Lucas?”
“Yeah?”
“Promise me if you ever want to talk about it, you’ll come to me.”
“I promise.”
Another nod and her eyes closed again, a drowsy smile lifting her cheeks. “I’m not tired. I’m just resting them.”
Luke shook his head. “So damn stubborn.”
Minutes later — with his sister snoring away in her cushy rocking chair — Luke let himself out of her house and locked up with his key.
Not long after, he was back at his condo, feeling as keyed up and wired as his sister was not.
After a quick shower, Luke tugged on a clean set of clothes. Nothing fancy. Just his favorite Rip Curl tank and some comfortable black cargos.
Glancing at his pants, Luke snorted as he thought of Andy and her seemingly endless supply of cargo pants.
Pants she was probably not wearing at the moment because she was probably twirling about the dance floor with Kyle in her pretty white dress.
Luke strode to his kitchen, grabbed a bottled water from the fridge, and glanced at the clock on his microwave. 10:24.
Knowing Andy’s obsessive punctuality, she’d probably shown up to the club five minutes early, which meant she’d probably been there a half hour already.
How bad could she possibly be doing on her own?
