“You’ll be by where?” I halted near his door, and he joined me, leaning against the wall. The leaning showed off muscles in his upper arm that I didn’t know the names of because I wasn’t a doctor or a student of anatomy but which my eyes couldn’t ignore.
“By your house.”
“Uh …”
“To change your oil?” The sides of his eyes crinkled, but he didn’t quite smile. “It’s the first step toward checking whether you’re ready to hear my explanation.”
“Fine. But I get an answer to at least one question.”
“Just give me the address.” He made no promises.
“Are you saying you don’t have my address, but you know where my parents live? You obviously know my address.” Since he’d been stalking me and knew everything else about me, down to the Jasper thing. As long as he didn’t know the name of my favorite landscape artist, or where I kept my favorite drinking glass, I couldn’t totally freak, though.
“I swear I don’t.” His eyes moved to the right. “I feel like I’ve been there, but I haven’t.”
What did that mean? “Luke.”
He cleared his throat. “I must have seen it in a dream or something.”
It didn’t sound like he was joking. There was zero jokey-lilt to his voice. In fact, he sounded troubled, and then I felt troubled and I wanted to give him a cranium shake to find out what he was hiding from me. Or a hug to comfort him. My yo-yo feelings and I weren’t sure which.
“Are you going to tell me the address or not? I’ll throw in an oil filter.”
I gave him my address. Because I’m a moron like that.
At least when I’m around Dr. Luke Hotwell.
“So we have a deal.” He stepped right into my comfort zone. Or, my discomfort zone. My comforts all went haywire. I pushed the flower vase between us and then fled toward the elevator.
I wasn’t always going to have a vase of flowers with me when I met up with this guy. So, what was I going to do?