All in all, I’d call it a successful day.
Until Luke comes home.
Mr. Five O’Clock Shadow.
Literally. The first thing I notice when he walks into the backyard just after five is that he does indeed have a slight shadow along his jawline. Somehow it makes his features even sharper, and by sharper, I mean more handsome, intriguing, and shiver-inducingly delicious.
It also makes him look more like an asshole when he narrows his eyes at me and asks about dinner. I thought, technically, my time was supposed to be my time after five, but I choke back on my tone since it wouldn’t come out with an ounce of respect, and I like to adhere to the old—if you don’t have anything nice to say, shut your trap. The world’s a big enough shit hole already—adage.
“You’re going to have to order something again. The cupboards are empty, and there was nothing for me to do shopping or go anywhere.” I say it as nicely as possible.
Luke’s dark eyes track over my face. They narrow, observing me, trying to dig beneath my outer layer and get inside. I shiver, but it’s not an entirely creepy shiver. I bet there are lots of ladies who would let Luke inside. Like, literally.
Lemon pudding and chocolate cherry cheesecake! That is not me. I am not one of those women.
I ignore the fact that, according to the pattern, my ovaries now feel like they’re burning, and instead, I stare back. Shade comes up and takes Luke’s hand, leading him inside through the patio door. I follow at a distance, giving my body a chance to calm down. I’d douse myself in cold water if I could, but it’s not going to help. Luke is too good looking for his own good. For my own good. For everyone’s own good. Why couldn’t I have worked for an ugly boss? If he were ugly and mean, at least I wouldn’t feel guilty right now. Because finding someone attractive when they’re not overly nice isn’t right.
I walk into the kitchen to find Luke pulling a credit card out of his wallet. He thumps it down on the counter and follows it up with a set of keys and a wad of bills.
I stare at the bills. There’s probably a grand sitting right there, and he just pulled it out of his freaking wallet.
My parents don’t even do things like that.
“Uh, do you have a budget? A list? Things you like? Allergies?”
“Mmmhmm.” He pulls out his phone and turns to Shade. “What’s it going to be tonight?”
“Burgers and ice cream!”
“Something healthy because we had cereal for breakfast and lunch?” I insert hopefully.
“Burgers and ice cream it is.”
“Yay!” Shade goes racing off into the living room while Luke places the order.
I can only imagine what place he’s calling that will deliver ice cream and a burger. That’s weird. I don’t wait around. Honestly, I’m hungry, but not really. Not hungry enough to stay in Luke’s company a second longer than I have to.
I have no idea how long I’m going to have to endure this, but I hope it’s not long. I feel bad for Shade. Honestly, I really do. He’s a great kid. Too bad his dad is a total dorkwad. Maybe that’s not entirely his fault. I know his wife died, and I do feel for him. Really, I do, but still. He’s basically a monster. The fact that my lady cave somehow finds it to be a turn on totally disgusts me. Yes, I am disgusted with my vagina. Maybe I should be disgusted with my brain too because it’s where hormones get made, I think. Shit, I was terrible at science.
Let’s just say that, right now, I’m seriously PO’d at whatever part of the body is responsible for the attraction.
I stalk up to my bedroom and shut the door. I can hear Luke and Shade laughing together downstairs. At least the guy treats Shade right, which is probably his one redeeming quality.
He needs it because he has a lot of other not-so-nice qualities. He’s intimidating, and he scowls too much. He also walks around like there’s a black cloud over his head as if someone is continuously peeing into every meal—not just his breakfast—before forcing him to eat it. He expects me to do everything, including having dinner ready. I think he just wants me to fail. He wants me to admit I can’t do this.
I have no doubt he knows who I am. He’s capable of running an internet search, and he knows Sam. He probably knows everything, minus the reason I left home. Maybe he’s torturing me. Or maybe he’s just the representative of a word that starts with the letter P and ends with RICK.
I should call Sam and check-in, or have a shower, or get my laptop and start looking for a real job. I should do a lot of things, but after not really sleeping last night, I’m exhausted, so I flop down on the bed. I intend to just shut my eyes for a second, but honestly, if I fall asleep for the night, that’s okay too. At least I won’t have to think about all the things I don’t want to dwell on. It’s a pretty big list for someone who used to worry about almost nothing at all: