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Luke doesn’t argue as he walks backward, a low chuckle humming from his throat. I close the door before he makes it back to the truck.
While I am still quite tired from the long day and night, between the cat scaring me and Luke’s pounding, I am now startled awake. Awake enough to begin to process exactly what transpired over the last two and a half hours.
I should be dwelling on my lack of clothes, possessions, and the massive fire that took over the hotel I was staying in.
Yet none of that seems to matter, as my brain is completely obsessed with the fact that I’m standing in Luke Incendio’s home.
I grip my robe and bite on my thumbnail as I walk farther into the house. The streetlamps cast a glow through the large picture window in the living room so I can meander around in the twilight.
It’s a small single-story home, yet it feels big because there isn’t a ton of furniture in here, just a sofa set and a television on a stand. The dining room features a table big enough for four, yet there are only two chairs. His kitchen is neat and tidy.
There isn’t an abundance of knickknacks or personal effects, aside from a few picture frames on a credenza between the living and dining rooms. I walk over and look at the photos. A picture of a boy, who I assume is Luke, splashing in a lake with a teenage girl and another girl about his age, has me smiling. It’s no surprise he was a cute kid. He stares at the camera and beams a toothless grin, and those almond-shaped eyes of his were as mischievous then as they are now.
Beside that photo is another of Luke and who are most likely his parents and sisters. I lift the picture frame and look at the faces. The couple is definitely his parents because Luke looks just like his mom. Same wavy, dark hair, vibrant eyes, and height. She’s a tall woman, taller than his father, and it makes me smile for some reason. There aren’t many couples you see where the man is shorter. While Luke looks like his mom, he has his father’s grin. It’s smooth and wicked and deepens with a Y-shaped dimple in the chin. It reminds me of my daughter, Ainsley’s, smile.
Ainsley has a cleft in her chin that she refers to as her chin butt. I hate when she says that. I think a boy at preschool made fun of her, and that’s why she’s so wary of it. At only four, she’s too young to harp on her physical features.
I place the photo down with a sigh and walk around some more.
Joe is back at my feet and purring like an engine. I kneel down and give him a rub on the head, which only serves as foreplay to the heavy petting this little guy seems to want. He rolls onto his back and inches his body closer to my hand, eliciting a belly scratch.
“You are an affectionate little guy, aren’t you?”
Joe hops back to his feet and then up onto my knee, placing his head under my chin. I can feel the vibration from deep within his chest as he nuzzles my neck.
“Daddy was right. You do like to snuggle.”
My words halt me, and I suddenly have a pang of guilt. I stand, this time with Joe in my arms. There’s a crocheted afghan on the top of the love seat. The colors are navy, white, and teal. I run my hand over the wool, and it reminds me of the blanket I gave to Luke, who is sleeping outside in the truck.
Peering out the blinds of the picture window, I look at the truck and can see Luke’s shadow moving about and then falling back down. It must be uncomfortable in there. He’s not a huge man, but he’s brawny. About five-eleven, lean yet muscular. My much smaller frame would hate to sleep in the backseat. I can feel the phantom crick in my back that would come from having to lie in a scrunched position all night.
Joe hops out of my arm and onto the windowsill, meowing out the window. He paws at the glass, as if begging for his owner to come inside.
“You think he should come in, don’t you?” I ask Joe, who looks up at me with pleading eyes. “I understand it’s his house, but he’s practically a stranger to me. It’s not proper for a man to be alone with a woman in a home. Especially when they don’t know each other well. He could be an axe murderer for all I know. Have you seen the Dahmer movie?”
Joe’s eyes slant, and I give him the same expression back.
“Yes, I know it didn’t stop me from hopping into bed with him all those years ago, but I was drunk on lust and charisma. He’s funny—you know that?” I take a seat on the couch and look out the glass with Joe, the two of us staring at the truck.
“I met your dad in Aruba. At the time, I was working for an event company that had a contract with a hotel chain down there. We got a bonus if we booked a wedding at the venue and got to travel for the event. I’m a wedding planner, so being able to coordinate a destination wedding is a dream. I flew in early to make sure everything was prepped for the rehearsal dinner. I met him at the restaurant where the dinner would take place.”
I run my hand down Joe’s back and think about that night. I was overwhelmed, to say the least. My first destination wedding, and of course, the hotel overbooked the venue. I was young, feisty, and delirious with party-planning anxiety.
“You look like you could use a drink,” a man said as I approached the bar.
“An old-fashioned,” I asked the bartender, ignoring the question from the gentleman next to me. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I had a lot on my mind, being the only person from my company at the resort. If things went wrong, the onus was on me.
“Cat got your tongue?”
The stranger leaned into my personal space, and I was hit with the scent of musk that had me looking up into his face. It was a good-looking face. Strong jaw, gleaming eyes, and that damn smile. I thought I’d stared at his teeth for a beat too long because he lowered his gaze to mine, and I was mesmerized by that twinkle.
Yes, Luke twinkles and shines with just a glance.
“Sorry. I’m lost in my head.”
“Good news. I happen to be an expert in being a head case.” He inched closer, ignoring my standoffish vibes.
In the mirror behind the bar, I watched as his eyes drifted down to the V-neck of my blouse, and I did a double take at him, admonishing him with my eyes.
