“Hank?” Luke asked.
“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “Your assistant.”
He slowed us down and stared at me. “He is my assistant.”
I winked. “Sure, he is.”
“No, he really is.”
I stopped dancing. “So Hank isn’t gay too? Damn, I pegged that one all wrong.”
Luke pressed his lips together in a tight line as if trying to keep from laughing. “He’s probably fucking someone in the backseat of the Jag right now. By someone, I mean a woman. He has no problem picking them up.”
I crinkled my nose. “Eeeeww. I think I’ll take an Uber home.”
Luke tossed his head back and laughed so hard, I started to laugh with him. Then he looked at me and slowly shook his head. “Goddamn, you are refreshing, Brighton Rogers.”
I grinned. “I try. Do you like fashion at all?”
“Um, not really.”
Frowning, I said, “Well, damn.”
Luke cleared his throat. “How about we go get a drink and step out onto the balcony for some fresh air? They have some heaters out there.”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
He placed his hand on my lower back, and my stomach did a little flip. Down, girl, he isn’t into you.
When we stopped in front of the bar, Luke turned to me. “What would you like?”
“A French 75, please.”
“And for you, sir?” the bartender asked.
“Double whiskey, neat.”
The bartender quickly got to work on our drinks.
I looked at Luke and gave him a good once-over before I spoke. “Double, huh?”
“Trust me, I need it. And don’t look now, but my mother is currently watching us and most likely planning our wedding.”
“What?” I asked with a slight chuckle as I turned back in the direction of Luke’s parents. I nearly started laughing when his mother waved, smiled, and gave me a thumbs up.
“Told you.”
Facing Luke, I asked, “Why don’t you just tell your mom?”
The bartender placed our drinks on the bar and Luke slid him a tip.
Reaching for mine, I said, “Thank you.”
Luke nodded and picked up his drink. “Tell my mother what?”
“You know,” I whispered.
He ignored me and took a drink of his whiskey. “If it was up to my mother, I’d be living in the suburbs of Boston, married to a beautiful wife who lives for charity work, and we’d have two-and-a-half kids already.”
“Two and a half?” I asked.
“Two kids and a dog.”
Laughing again, I raised my glass to his. “Your mother and my mother sound very much alike.”
“Pressuring you to marry, huh?”
I shrugged. “Among other things. She thinks I work too much and hates that I’m not dating anyone. And if I left it up to her, I’d be living in Boggy Creek and working as a kindergarten teacher or some bullshit like that.”
Luke chuckled. “Is that where you’re from, Boggy Creek?”
Nodding, I took a sip of my drink. “Born and raised.”
“Cute town. I remember driving through plenty of times on the way to Lakewood. It’s beautiful in the fall up that way.”
“I like it there too. And, yes, it is. I’m sure I’ll get tired of the city life eventually and move back to open my own law firm or help my folks run their bed and breakfast.”
He stared at me for a moment. “Is that what you want to do?”
Looking down into my drink, I ignored that small little voice in the back of my head that said I wanted what all of my friends back home were getting.
Marriage and kids.
I was tired of working long hours and hearing about marriages breaking up. I wanted what my folks had. I glanced back up at him and plastered on a smile. “Yes. At least part of it.”
His eyes searched my face, and I swore it was like he could read my mind. “My dad was bragging how you’re an amazing lawyer, Brighton.”
“Well, he had to say it with me standing there,” I replied in a teasing manner.
“People.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Well, I don’t know about amazing, but I do work my ass off.”
He let his eyes drift down my body, and I was positive I saw them darken with heat. Okay, so maybe he was into guys and girls. I could be down for that. He was beyond handsome and looked just like Gene.
He lifted his drink to his mouth and finished the whiskey in one gulp. “Let’s dance again.”
Before I could even say a word, we were back on the dance floor. An oldie started, and I gasped. “Gene Kelly! I love him so much, and I especially love this song. Oh, that scene in Singing in the Rain when Gene sings ‘You Were Meant for Me.’ I think that’s when I fell in love with him.”
Luke grinned. “A Gene Kelly fan, huh? Since you said I looked like him, does that mean I have a shot at getting more than a dance out of you?”
I felt my cheeks heat as I looked up at him. “Why, Mr. Morrison, are you flirting with me?”