Page 29

I’ve always loved my couch. It’s pretty and soft and so comfortable that I sleep out here almost as often as I sleep in my bed. I love it so much that I thought it was impossible to ever love it more.

But then I sat on it with Luke.

His large, lean body takes up half of the space on the green velvet cushions, and every time my leg accidentally brushes against his, goose bumps explode over my skin.

He draped his arm across the back of the couch at the beginning of the episode and somewhere along the way, his fingers started to play mindlessly with my messy curls.

“I really appreciate your help tonight.” I hit “play next” with my remote and take a long sip of the best smoothie I’ve ever had. “But you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

His fingers stop moving, and I instantly regret diverting his attention away from the TV.

“And not find out what happens between Phaedra and her castle daddy?” He sounds appalled at even the idea of it. “Not a chance.”

I’d like to think I’m the reason he’s staying, but I would understand if it was really the appeal of The Traitors that pulled him in.

It’s what perfect television does to you.

The next episode starts to play when Luke’s hand wraps around mine.

He pulls the remote out of my grip and pauses Alan Cumming’s Emmy-worthy recap.

“Excuse me, sir!” I try to grab the remote, but he pulls it out of reach. “What are you doing? You just said you wanted to watch it.”

“I do.” He sets it on the side table next to him. “But I want to talk to you about a few things and I’m not good at multitasking.”

It’s such a small piece of information about him that I shouldn’t even notice it. But like every single little thing I learn about this man, I file it deep into my brain—desperate for any morsel that could help me understand him better.

“Oh, okay.” I grab the throw blanket and pull it up to my chin. “What do you want to talk about?”

Before he came over, I barely had the energy to get out of bed. But now that he’s fed me and I have some nutrients floating around inside of my body, I can handle a conversation. I assume it’s something about Isla or maybe even Mister Bubbles and relax back into my couch.

“Well, first, I really wanted to apologize for the scene Jacqueline and I made in your classroom the other day.” His eyes shift from me to the frozen TV screen. “I’m sure you were already not feeling well and I hate that we brought that to you.”

“It was definitely a little crazy when it was happening, but I saw where you were coming from. I know how fast things can get out of control when you’re passionate about something.

” I wish I could reassure him that I see fights like that all the time, but I can’t.

I’m a kindergarten teacher, not a marriage counselor.

“Plus, you sent me Denny’s, so all has been forgiven. ”

He laughs and the quiet sound does more to warm me up than this fleece throw ever will.

“I still can’t believe you love Denny’s.”

“What can I say?” I shrug. “I’m a simple girl who loves life’s simple pleasures.”

“Simple?” His quiet laughter turns loud, and he makes a big show of looking around my living room. “I don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but nothing about you is simple. You’re the most complex, fascinating person I’ve ever met.”

“Excuse me.” I untuck my legs from a crisscross position and nudge his thigh with my foot. “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or not.”

“Not.” His laughter dies on his lips, and the way he looks at me makes my toes curl. “Definitely not an insult.”

The sincerity of his words hits me in the center of my chest and twists my stomach like it’s a balloon animal.

Whether he’s pissing me off or turning me on, nobody has ever been able to affect me with their words like Luke.

One way or another, he is trouble. The smart thing to do here is to run as far away as humanly possible, but time with him is a trap and every second he’s near ensnares me even deeper.

I know if I’m not careful, I’ll never be able to pull away.

“Oh,” I whisper. “Thanks then, I guess.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and it takes every ounce of strength I have within me not to jump across this couch and kiss it off of his face.

“You’re welcome then…” He twists the stray curl that’s always falling in my face around his finger and tugs it ever so slightly in his direction. “I guess.”

The need that’s lingered since that first night on a rooftop downtown—familiar and all-consuming—hangs over us so heavy, it’s hard to breathe.

The air shifts and the room turns static.

The steady thrum of electricity constantly flowing between us begins to spark, and we get closer to crossing the barrier that’s been trying to keep us apart.

I know what consequences lie for us on the other side, but watching his chest rise as his eyes darken, I’m having a hard time caring.

I just can’t cross that line with tangled hair and a scratchy throat.

“So…” I break the silence and hate myself for doing it. “What else did you want to ask me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He blinks a few times and I bite back my smile knowing he was just as far gone as I was. “Any news on your car? I had to go to The Barkery the other day for Mister Bubbles and saw it wasn’t there anymore.”

Oh god. My car. I bite back my groan.

“It’s been the bane of my existence.” And not in the fun, sexy Bridgerton type of way, either. “It’s in the shop and it should be ready for me. I just need to go and pick it up once I’m feeling better.”

And after I get my refund from Petunia Lemon…although I’m starting to think that’s never going to happen.

“That was fast,” he says, with the perspective of someone who hasn’t been biking to their workplace for the last eight hundred years. “It wasn’t the engine, then?”

“No, that was one small mercy granted to me in this mess. They said it was the…” The answer’s on the tip of my tongue, but it’s hard to focus when he’s so close, looking at me like he wants me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. “A blown head gasket.”

“Damn.” He lets out a long whistle. “That’s better than an engine, but that still sucks.”

“It does, but I don’t know if you remember Tom, the grumpy old man from The Barkery?

” Luke nods and I continue. “He’s friends with the mechanic who towed my car in.

Apparently, Tom can be extra nice when he wants to and he put in a good word for me.

They knocked a thousand dollars off of the price, so it’s bad, but not nearly as bad as I deserved. ”

I’ve already set oil change reminders in my phone for the next two years. I’ve learned my lesson and will not be making this mistake again.

“I’m glad to hear that. I had to get a gasket replaced on my old car and I ended up turning that car over and getting a new one.

And don’t tell Tom…” He leans forward and drops his voice to a whisper even though we’re the only ones here.

“But I wasn’t buying his grumpy act in the first place.

He snuck Isla two bow ties and a cat toy for Mister Bubbles.

He didn’t think I saw him adding them to the bag, but I did. ”

“I mean, he’s at the shelter more than I am.

” Which says a lot considering I’m one of their top volunteers, but animals are much easier to be around than people.

I didn’t think Tom hated me, more that he tolerated me for the sake of The Barkery.

“I knew he had a squishy soft center, but I never thought he’d go out of his way for anyone who doesn’t have four legs. Especially not for me.”

Luke lets go of my hair, dropping his hand to mine and pulling me closer. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” I want to look away, but his emerald gaze holds me hostage.

“Why do you go out of your way to help others and then have such a hard time accepting that people would want to go out of their way for you too?”

“Why do people keep saying that?” Did Keisha get to him somehow? This feels like a setup. “I don’t have a hard time accepting help. I just much prefer to be the giver when possible.”

His full lips pull into a straight line and his thick eyebrows furrow together. I don’t need to know him well to know exactly what that look means. He’s calling bullshit and he’s not wrong…

I’ll just never admit it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I grab the pillow next to me and lob it at him across the couch, but he dodges it easily. “I do accept help. You literally helped me in the parking lot…twice!”

And I was very grateful and only mildly resentful.

I mean really, what do these people want from me? I’m just a girl!

“Not two whole times.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I was wrong, you’re great at accepting help and taking criticism.”

I almost throw another pillow at him, but it’s tucked between my back and the couch and I don’t want to readjust. So I stick to using my words instead.

“Whatever, smart-ass.” I stick my tongue out at him, not at all sorry for resulting to the fighting tactics of my kindergartners. “I am great at those things. Actually, I’m great at all things. So there.”

“I’m so sure,” he says and just that fast I rethink my no-violence stance. “If you’re so great at asking for help, then I expect a phone call when you’re ready to pick up your car from the shop. I am your neighbor after all.”

“I would do that, but I don’t have your number.

” It sounds crazy considering how often we’ve been around each other, but it’s true.

The first night we met, I was set on keeping it a one-night fling and then we got into a fight the next day.

I guess I have his number somewhere at school, but using student information for personal use is a boundary I’d never cross. Not even for Luke.

“That can’t be right.” He grabs his phone on the coffee table and swipes through it until he sees that I’m right. Like always. “Damn. I feel like we should’ve done this months ago.”