I toss the ticket back to the table, like they’re diseased. “Then why did you agree to this?”
He opens his mouth, but closes it again and instead of answering, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I could use another drink,” he says. He seems to be hedging a lot tonight, but I’ll give him that. The break-up might just be too fresh to talk about.
“I’ll get it.” I walk to his kitchen, and grab two beers. I twist off the lids and hand one to him. As he takes a big swallow and downs half the liquid, I look at him, really look at him. Jesus, his shoulders are so tight they’re practically touching his ears, and if he clenches any harder he’s going to crack his teeth.
“Sit,” I say and point to his sofa. “Your muscles are so tight, you’re about to snap.”
He walks to the sofa and a little sigh catches in my throat. Yeah, I know. We don’t look at each other with interest, but how can I not admire a work of art when I see it? I take a big sip from my bottle, set it down and place my hands on his shoulders. The second I touch him, he tenses even more.
“You’re in bad shape, Luke.”
“Yeah,” he grumbles, his voice dropping an octave. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I work my fingers into the knots, and they soften beneath me. As a massage therapist—specializing in sports therapy—and Luke’s own personal masseuse, I intimately know every inch of his body. Well, not intimately in the way lovers know each other. I almost laugh at the thought of us being lovers. Ludicrous, right?
“That feels so good,” he mumbles and lets his head fall back. His mouth parts, exposing perfect white teeth. I let my gaze move over his face as his lids droop over deep blue eyes. How could Arianna be having second thoughts? Not only is Luke the nicest looking guy I’ve ever seen he has a good heart and would move mountains for those he cares about. I, of all people, know that. I was a chubby girl with a learning disability when I was young, but he saw past that, saw me for who I really was, and he liked that girl. When I was diagnosed with dyslexia, he learned everything he could about my disability, and I swear to God, I only made it through high school because of him. He pushed me, studied with me, and never gave up on me. When I didn’t have a date for the prom, he went with me, even though his friends teased him about it. But Luke never cared what other people said about him. If they said anything bad about me, however, they usually ended up with a black eye, and that was saying something, since Luke doesn’t much care for violence. But when push comes to shove, he’ll shove.
“This position isn’t working.” I run my fingers down his arms, and he moans his approval.
“Oh, it’s working.”
I laugh at that. “I can’t reach your back. Let’s move this into the bedroom.”
“My bedroom?”
“Yeah, my massage table is in the car, and I’m not running back out there. I have no interest in getting wet again.”
A strange groan sounds in his throat. “I’m okay. You don’t need to give me a massage.”
“Yes, I do. Now get up.” I shove his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.
“Why are you so bossy?”
I laugh at that. “Would you want me any other way?”
“No, you’re perfect just the way you are.”
I whack him. “Yeah right,” I say. He’s always saying things like that to me. But we both know my flaws. “Get up.”
He climbs from the sofa and my eyes go to his chest. My God, the man really does have a beautiful body. I sigh, and follow him into his room. He flicks the lamp beside the bed on, flops down onto the mattress and buries his face in his pillow. Since it’s too difficult to work all angles from a standing position, I pull the towel off my head, and climb on top of him. Another little groan rumbles in the depths of his throat as my knees tighten around his sides.
“I know. I know. I’m not a lightweight. You don’t have to drive the point home by groaning.”
“I told you. You’re perfect just the way you are. Why don’t you believe me?” I wiggle until I’m settled on his firm backside.
His muscles ripple as I place my hands on him, working them over his body until he’s a little looser beneath me. “Luke.”
“Mmm…”
“I really am sorry about tonight,” I say quietly. I don’t want to press if he doesn’t want to talk about this, but this is my best friend and I’m here to listen if he needs me. “Do you have any idea why Arianna needs time to think?”
He goes quiet. Too quiet, and once again I get the strange sense there is something he’s not telling me.
“I think a week to think is going to do us both good,” he finally says.
“I’m sure she’ll come to her senses,” I say. When Luke moved away to Arizona State, I was lost without him. Sure, I was busy getting my massage therapy certification, but my nights and weekends were lonel
y. I’d spent so much time at the rink watching him practice or play, I’d found myself wandering over, just to feel close to him. “After one week away, I’m positive Arianna will realize her mistake.”