Page 389 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

LUKE

“I can’t believe Priscilla died in an elevator accident.”

We were on my huge couch watching the first season of NYC ER.

Chinese to-go containers were on a tray on the floor, long forgotten.

For someone who didn’t watch TV, she was really into it.

I’d never watched the episodes from start to finish before and it was a little weird to see, knowing how they were filmed and what was happening behind the scenes.

Even more so with Aspen who never watched TV and had never seen me act. Ever.

“Her contract was up,” I explained about the Priscilla character.

“But you couldn’t save her,” she said, shaking her head in shame. “I thought Shep Barnes didn’t let anyone die.”

“Can’t save them all, tiger.” I reached for her feet and tugged so they were over my lap, her dress sliding a little up her thighs.

Her legs were bare and silky smooth. Toned and gorgeous.

I’d had her this afternoon on the plane, and I wanted her again.

I loved having her to myself. No chaperones. No tabloids.

“You’re a pretty convincing doctor.”

“Only pretty convincing?”

She tore her eyes from the TV and Priscilla’s funeral to look at me. “Well, I know the real you.”

“I’m not cut out to be a real doctor, huh?” I asked, not put out.

“Mallory would push Theo in front of a bus if she thought she had a shot with you.”

“I’m aware, and so is Theo,” I grumbled.

“Women love you.”

“They love Shep.”

What about you, Aspen? Do you love me, the real me? Do you love Luke? Could you?

Seeing her watch the show made me wonder if I, Luke, was enough for someone like Aspen. She saw the plane. The house. The TV show. She said she knew the real me. But did she like him–Luke–or was she expecting more? Could I be enough?

“And your hair,” she added.

I couldn’t help but grin. I had good hair. Wavy. Curly. Dark. “I think it needs its own contract.”

She cocked her head, then shifted her feet off my lap, spun around and settled back against me. I moved so her back was to my front as she was tucked beneath my chin, my arm around her shoulder. Fuck, this was better. “How did you get into acting?” she asked.

I reached for my cell, swiped to photo mode, and took a picture of our entwined legs on the couch and the show on the TV across the room. I didn’t plan to post this one–or all of the others I’d taken of us together so far–but took it for myself.

I’d never had a woman in my house before.

Not my couch or my bed. Bed, yes, but not this one specifically.

If I slept with a woman, it was at a hotel.

Not here. I never brought a woman here because then she’d know where I lived.

That said a lot about me because it meant I was a little afraid of crazy women and their knowing the secret location of the bat cave.

It also showed that I never cared enough to even consider sharing this part of me. My house. How insane was that?

But Aspen was on my couch and later would be in my bed. We ate Chinese and binge watched TV. It was amusing to see the show from a newbie’s eyes. Aspen was the only person I knew who’d never even heard of the program.

Or me.

Or my hair.

“It all started when I was door number two in the Nativity play at church when I was four.”

She tipped her chin to look up at me. I couldn’t resist kissing her.

“Door number two?” she asked, bemused. “I wasn’t aware that a door, let alone two of them, was a big part of that religious event.”

“Of course, it was. A manger in December would be awfully cold without doors. It was a pivotal part. My mother was thrilled because all she had to do was find me brown pants and a brown shirt. She didn’t have to make a camel costume like she did two years later for my brother.

And I’ll point out that he had no talent as a camel whatsoever. ”

She grinned. “That was how you got discovered then? As a door?”

I grinned. “Nah. That was my first and last church activity. I did plays in school like the theater geek I was.”

“So you got discovered playing Danny in Grease or a salesman in The Music Man?”

“Nope.”

“Came out here to LA and waited tables and got discovered?”

“I was working as a cashier at a grocery store in Omaha.”

She blinked, probably debating whether I was joking. “Really?”

“A producer’s mother-in-law lived in Omaha. He was there for a wedding. He told me it was the hair.”

She reached up, messed with it. “It does show well on TV. Like the sex scenes. Very realistic.”

I shifted and pulled her beneath me. “Really? As realistic as this?” I rolled my hips into her.

“I know the real Shep Barnes.”

Settling over her, propped up on my forearms, I said, “You know the real Luke Graham. Only you, Aspen.” Only her.

“I’m the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had,” she admitted with a proud smile.

“Well, better than Lacey and she really is a fake girlfriend. Which reminds me, you need to be careful if we ever meet her. Hopefully you won’t, but I need to warn you, someone like her will use and do anything to make herself look good.”

Aspen shrugged as if she wasn’t concerned. “I can handle her.”

I was sure she could, but I now felt like shit for putting her in the position where she might have to.

I didn’t want to see her hurt. Not physically, unless you could be wounded by fake nails.

The one thing I liked about Aspen was her heart.

She felt deeply. For her daughter. For Mrs. Waddle.

For her girlfriends. Even those in her yoga classes. She was genuine.

Nice.

I didn’t want to taint that with Lacey or the LA/acting lifestyle. Maybe I already had.

Unlike Lacey, there wasn’t anything fake about being here with Aspen other than the title fake girlfriend. To me, this was real, but I’d have to give her up and let her walk away. I’d get my movie role and she’d get Duncan the Dick off her back. Simple?

Absolutely not. Because the more I held her, the more I wanted to keep her. Permanently. She was that perfect.