Page 16

I didn’t know why, but a dark cloud dropped over Lukas’s beautiful features, and the pan clattered onto the stovetop. Curry sauce splashed over the edge and onto the front of the apron.

“Shit!” Lukas yelled.

“It’s okay. That’s what aprons are for.”

He undid the ties around his waist and pulled the loop over his head. He tossed the apron into the sink and ran cold water over the stain. “Could you get out some silverware? It’s in the drawer to the left of the fridge.”

I did that silently, wishing I could rewind the last ten seconds and take back my stupid comment. I didn’t know what was so bad about what I’d said, but it had obviously been the wrong thing to say.

“Maybe we should just get going with the interview,” I suggested.

“Whatever you say.” He set two plates on the counter beside the stove.

“How do you feel about the trade?”

“I had a great time in Baltimore.” He pulled a serving utensil from a drawer and put a pile of rice on each plate. “The fans were great, and I’ll miss the locker room. But if you want to be a pro athlete, trades are to be expected, and I’m always up for the next adventure.”

“Diplomatic.” I set the table.

“Always.”

He ladled chicken over the rice, then brought our plates to the table. We took our seats.

The whole thing felt stiff. Way too formal. This was the guy who used to shoot popcorn across the room for me and Evan to catch in our mouths.

“How does it feel to be playing with my brother again?”

Lukas dug into his food. “It feels good. I didn’t think I’d be seeing him again, so… It’s good.”

I took a bite of my own meal and was surprised to find it was restaurant quality. Still, the tension in the room kept me from fully enjoying it.

And while Lukas did manage to answer several more questions about hockey, his career, and the trade—he never fully relaxed either.

Finally, I had to address the elephant in the room. “Hey, I’m sorry about the comment I made, about you making a good husband. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“It wasn’t bad,” he said, with a shrug that was clearly meant to look cavalier, but was contradicted by everything else in his demeanor. “You made an assumption about me. You wouldn’t be the first.”

“I should have known better. Your reputation being what it is, I’m guessing marriage or—I guess for you it would be finding a mate? —isn’t on the agenda.”

His expression flattened, and he blinked once. “My reputation?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know what O’Rourke said. Whatever I write will be a one-eighty from the elevator photos of you with those three women in Baltimore.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Those women were junior accountants.”

“Oh.” I would have guessed they were models, but I supposed even junior accountants were allowed to be beautiful and out for a good time with the dazzling Lukas Bakken.

“Their firm hosts a charity golf tournament for children’s cancer,” Lukas explained. “I was the event’s celebrity guest.”

“I see.” Obviously, I’d misjudged the photo. And those women. And Lukas. My little finger trembled against my leg as I felt the tense mood going tenser.

“That photo,” he said with unrestrained irritation, “was taken after the tournament at Johns Hopkins Hospital. They were escorting me to the room of one of the kids who was supposed to be at the tournament, but his blood counts were too low. They thought it would be nice if I could pay him a special visit.”

“That was really nice of you.”

“It was my pleasure. And he was a really cool kid.”

“ Creature Confidential didn’t say anything about that.” It was a lame excuse for my rush to judgment, but it was the only one I had to offer.

“Those journalists—if you want to call them that—didn’t ask, and they didn’t care. They were only interested in my face and creating click-bait headlines. Those three women didn’t deserve that crap.”

I nodded and wiped my mouth with my napkin, wishing I could crawl underneath the table and disappear.

“I can’t believe you’d buy into any of it,” Lukas said bitterly. “That photo and the insinuation was based in even less reality than the photo they published of the two of us.”

I blinked once. Even less reality? Did that mean he thought there was some reality to the insinuation about us?

Of course he didn’t. There went my imagination again. It had gotten me in trouble with Lukas before. I couldn’t be such a fool to let it keep happening.

“Thanks for dinner, Lukas. It was really good.”

“You’re welcome.” He got up, brought our empty plates to the kitchen, and set them in the sink. “I think you’ve got enough info on me for whatever you’re going to write.”

“Oh.” I was a little startled by the abruptness, but I got the message loud and clear. “I think so.”

“Want me to unplug your ring light?”

“No, I got it.” I got up from my chair and collected my things.

There was no long goodbye. Lukas walked me to the door.

We’d just reached it when I swore I felt his hand brush against mine in an intentional way; it lingered just a little too long to be an accident.

But when I turned to face him, he opened the door and said, “Have a good rest of your night.”

“Lukas—”

“I’m beat. Good night.”

I stepped backward into the hallway, and the door closed between us.

“All righty then. Message received.”

As soon as I was in my own apartment, I sat on the bed with my head tipped back against the wall, replaying everything I’d said, and what Lukas had said, and wondering if my brother might be able to shed some light on where I had gone wrong .

Even if people made unfair assumptions about Lukas’s playboy lifestyle, my comment about making a good husband shouldn’t have cast such a pall.

I rolled toward the nightstand where I’d set my tablet but stopped when I heard a crinkling sound in my pocket. I rolled back, reached inside, and pulled out the slip of paper Lukas had given me.

I stared at the name of the website for quite a while before eventually grabbing my tablet and typing it in.

A menu of thumbnails with crazy titles filled the screen. I tapped on the first one. The people in it were at least fully clothed. It seemed to be like a mini-movie. At least, it attempted to have a plot.

A man with a tool belt rang the doorbell, the housewife opened the door…she led him into her kitchen, then bent over her counter while showing him her clogged sink.

“Seriously?” I murmured to the screen. “You don’t bend over in a skirt that short.”

The next thing I knew, the housewife’s shirt was off, and she was in a red silk thong and a matching leather bustier that didn’t cover her breasts.

The plumber hoisted her onto the kitchen counter, pried her legs apart, ripped the red silk right off of her, and dropped to his knees. Immediately his mouth was on her, and in less than a minute, her orgasmic cry of pleasure was way louder than I expected it to be.

“Jesus.” I cranked down the volume so Lukas couldn’t hear and realize what I was watching.

Unfortunately, I was too late.

“What do you think?” Lukas asked, his muffled yell coming through the wall behind me.

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience. It was like he’d completely forgotten that not five minutes ago he’d been closing his door in my face. “It’s fine.”

“Just fine?” he asked.

Oh, for crying out loud. There was no way we were going to have this conversation through the wall. I opened the contacts on my phone and called his number.

He answered right away and repeated, “Just fine?”

“It’s not very realistic, is it?” Were we seriously going to have a normal conversation about this? Now? After our dinner? After he’d practically kicked me out of his apartment?

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Well, I guessed we were.

“For starters, no one screams like that when they’re having sex.”

Lukas’s subsequent silence made me feel stupid, like I’d just confessed to the magnitude of my naivety and given credence to Daniel’s complaint.

“Um…do they?” I asked quietly.

“Don’t you? ” he asked, and he sounded legitimately sad for me.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds. “We’re not talking about this.”

“Fine. We’re not talking about this. Go to the next scene.”

I blew out a breath and did as he said. It was of a threesome, two men and one woman. I would have thought it would be the other way around. And the way the men were serving her…like she was some kind of goddess…

“What’s going on?” Lukas asked. “Give me the play by play.”

Yeah, he could forget about that because one of the men had just put some lube on his finger and stroked it through the woman’s folds, all the way to the back.

“Not much is happening.” My skin felt prickly and hot, but I forced myself to keep watching. I didn’t want Lukas to think I was a prude. I could make it through one whole clip without turning it off. They were just actors. It was just pretend.

But then the man was inserting a pink silicone bulb into the woman’s ass.

“Oh my god!” I cried. “Is that really how big butt plugs are?”

I’d never seen one in person, and I hoped this was just more of the same—pretend, exaggerated fantasies setting up unrealistic expectations. Except that it looked very, very real.

“I can’t see what you’re looking at,” he said, “but they come in all sizes. You can start small and work your way up.”

“Yeah, no thank you.”

“You never know,” he said, “you might like it.”

“I doubt it.”

“How would you know?” he asked, chuckling.

“It’s just not… right .”

“Again, you’re entitled to not like something without being judgmental of others. That’s the beauty of sex: there’s so much variety. Something for everyone. But you have to try it to know you don’t like it.”

I turned toward the wall and yelled, “I don’t have to try that to know I don’t like it.”

He chuckled. “Just finish the scene.”

I returned my gaze to the screen. The man was kneeling behind the woman, penetrating her. There were pale-pink welts on each of her ass cheeks where he’d spanked her, and when he slapped her again, I echoed her low moan.

“You’d like that?” Lukas asked, apparently hearing the slap right through the wall.

I didn’t answer, mainly because the thought of Lukas doing something like that hardened my nipples and tightened my core.

I watched several more scenarios with various groupings of people doing things I’d never even imagined were possible.

By the end, I was holding my breath and had nearly forgotten that Lukas was still on the line, listening.

“I think I better hang up.” My voice came out dry and scratchy.

“Yeah.” Lukas’s own voice sounded strained. “That’s probably a good idea.”

I wetted my lips. “Good night, Lukas.”

“Good night, Elli.”

“Thanks again for dinner.”

“Any time.”

“Really?” We were neighbors now. At least until I found a new place. Was this going to be a recurring thing?

“Sure,” he said. “Until there’s no time left.”

“No time left for what?” I asked.

There were a few beats of silence before Lukas answered, “For me.”

He clicked off before I could ask, leaving me to wonder, now what in the hell was that supposed to mean?