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He heard Alex’s engine shut off, and when the sound was followed by the car door opening and closing too hard, he gritted his teeth. He turned toward the crunch of gravel.
“I don’t even know where to start,” said Alex, his voice cold and sharp.
Luke’s fists clenched tighter as his pulse pounded in his temples. “I’d say an explanation as to what you’re doing here would be as good a place as any.”
“Cut the shit, Luke.” Alex stopped a few feet away from him, arms folded across his chest, fingers digging into his sleeves. “You’ve been around her again for ten seconds, and you’re already putting her in danger?”
“What?” Luke stepped forward, glaring daggers at the taller man. He considered himself tall at 6’1”, but Alex had several inches on him. Still, Luke knew he could take his former friend easily.
“Look. I get why you did what you did the night you two split up.” Alex’s voice dropped with these words, and he glanced behind Luke at the house. Luke understood—neither of them wanted Rose to hear anything about the barfight. He almost respected Alex again for this unspoken agreement, but with his pulse roaring in his ears and the accusation that he’d endangered the woman he loved still hanging in the air, he wasn’t about to admit anything of the sort. “Cal and Lorenzo deserved what they got. But you scared the hell out of her then. And what do you think you did last night?”
“I think I hit someone who touched her without her permission. Wouldn’t you say that qualifies as a reason to throw a punch?”
Alex’s jaw tightened. Luke didn’t bother holding back his smirk.
“The point is,” Alex growled, “do you honestly think you’re the best choice for her? Do you think you can control yourself enough to be the one who’s right for her, or are you going to be too much of a risk to be around?”
“I’d say that’s up to her.” Luke shrugged, his smirk still in place. Beyond the driveway, he caught a glimpse of a paparazzo with a camera aimed at the two of them. He wasn’t about to give the vultures anything else to use against him. “And clearly she’s already made her choice.” He turned away and started toward the house.
Alex’s footsteps followed him. “You’re not this baby’s father.”
Luke froze. His fingernails dug into his palms, but he didn’t turn around. He marched up the steps, entered the foyer, and slammed the door behind him.
***
Rose had spent the morning and the ride to the airport preparing herself for how stressful the flight was going to be. She’d always hated flying—though she knew the odds tipped toward the plane arriving safely, she still found herself worrying too much every time she boarded one.
This trip was no different. She’d brought headphones to distract herself, and it was only while wearing them with Def Leppard playing in her ears and her head resting against Luke’s shoulder that she’d managed to relax enough to pretend she was somewhere else and fall asleep.
He woke her up when they reached St. Croix near sunset, and a sleek black car was waiting for them at the airport. She insisted on pulling her own suitcase, but Luke refused—he led the way to the car with a handle in each hand. He stowed the bags and opened her door for her, and she thanked him as she climbed in.
Quickly, she pulled down the sun visor and checked her reflection. The flight had been almost seven hours long, but she’d slept for so much of it that she was wide awake, and thankfully, she didn’t look tired. Her makeup was still in place—red lipstick, smoky eyeshadow, and enough mascara to make her feel put-together. Her hair hung in waves that fell past her shoulders and midway down her back, and while they were flattened in a couple of places from her nap, they didn’t look bad. Her red button-down shirt hadn’t wrinkled on the plane.
Still, she felt out of place. Like someone would take one look at her and realize that she had no business being escorted to the LeBlancs’ private property on a resort island by her ex-fiancé, who hadn’t yet figured out that she didn’t deserve any of this.
When Luke slipped into the driver’s seat and pulled the car out onto the road, Rose studied him. He was as handsome as ever, with those green eyes and that jawline that melted her, and he wore a white shirt that clung to his muscles just tightly enough to tease her. But there was something off about his expression. He was staring out the windshield with his lips set in a thin line, and his eyes were clouded with an emotion she couldn’t identify.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him quietly.
He gave a stiff shrug. “I’m okay.”
She stared at him and said nothing, and after a few moments passed in silence apart from the road noise, he glanced at her and sighed.
“Alex came by today.”
Rose frowned. “What did he want?”
“It’s not important.”
“Luke.” She was surprised by how firmly her voice came out, but she didn’t falter. She hoped he knew she wasn’t planning to drop this.
“What do you think? He wants me to realize I’m not right for you.”
Rose rolled her eyes and rested her cheek against the cool glass of the window. The glimpses of ocean she could see beyond the palm trees they passed were beautiful—even at such a distance, the water looked clear and inviting.
“It’s none of his business,” she mumbled.
“He seems to want what’s best for you.”
