Page 9 of Love… It's Messy
Down the hall, I see Luke standing at the end. He looks sleepy and rumpled. Kind of like how he looks after making love in a canopy bed with the ocean breeze blowing through the windows. His eyes are hooded, and I swear I see a semblance of a lusty haze. I adored that haze once.
I bend down and scoop the tomcat off the ground. “Joe’s sleeping with me tonight.”
I close the door and then snuggle with the only man in the house worthy of my affection. The worst part is, this is the first man I’ve shared a bed with in five years.
three
“MORNING, BUDDY,” LUKE CROONSin a soft whisper. “I see you gave me up for the first pretty girl to enter the bedroom. So much for do-or-die brothers, huh?”
I wake to the sound of Luke’s voice as he talks to the kitty on the dresser. His back is to me as he rummages through a drawer in nothing but a towel. His broad back is on display, and every muscle ripples as he flexes and moves.
I need to know the time, yet I don’t want to move. If I do, he’ll realize I’m awake. I’m not a voyeur. It’s just that this situation would be awkward, to say the least, should he turn round and see I’m staring at his half-naked frame.
My jaw hits the duvet as his towel falls to the floor, and I’m now staring at Luke’s well-defined and very muscular behind. He has two divots on the sides of his rear. Plump, round. Perfect. It’s not appropriate for me to be gawking the way I am, so as he grabs a pair of black boxer briefs from his dresser, I close my eyes and pretend to be sleeping so as not to cause any unwanted attention toward the bed.
I’m saving us both the embarrassment, you see.
Joe lets out a loud mew, as if shouting at his owner that there’s a peeping Tom nearby. Another drawer closes, and I hear a slight moving about when the door to his bedroom closes.
I roll over, and Joe is now on my chest, meowing in my face, as if to ask,Did you like the show?
The clock on the bedside table dictates I don’t have a lot of time until I have to be at the brunch, and I desperately need to get to a store to find something to wear.
The stench of smoke from last night is pouring off me, so I get up and use Luke’s bathroom. The mirror is still foggy from his shower. With my index finger, I make a smiley face in the mirror. It’s a habit of mine from when I was little and something Ainsley and I do often. Lately, we’ve taken to playing tic-tac-toe and hope there’s a winner before the steam fades.
I turn on the faucet and walk into the shower and wash away the horror of last night. Luke doesn’t have feminine-smelling shampoo or soap. He doesn’t even have conditioner. I do my best with Old Spice and Irish Spring.
Turning the water off, I realize there isn’t a towel on the bar. I move the curtain to look around the bathroom, but don’t see one in sight. My hair drips down my back as I step onto the mat and look briskly around the room, but to no avail. There might be something in Luke’s room, so I open the bathroom door, only to scream at the top of my lungs at the sight of a man standing in the doorway.
My hands make quick work to cover my sexy bits as I hunch over to hide my body from the prying yet seemingly amused eyes of Luke Incendio.
His palm flies to cover his face. “I heard the water and figured you needed these.” He holds out a towel and a clean robe while his hand does nothing to cover the smile on his face.
I rip them from his grasp and cover my body. My own eyes squint at him in accusation. “Your eyes had better be clenched tightly.”
“A gentleman would never.”
“A gentleman you are not.”
“I’m not the one who was pretending to be asleep ten minutes ago,” he states with an amused tone.
I close the door in his face and catch my breath from the flourish of nerves and embarrassment I feel. Joe is now standing on the hamper. I turn around and slide Luke’s robe on.
“Well, Joe, hopefully, that’s it for the morning theatrics. It’s only eight, and I’m already over the day.”
There’s a hair dryer under the sink beside a small, unmarked bottle. I lift the bottle of what looks like sand and inspect it. It could be from anywhere, yet there’s something about the color and the fine texture of each grain that reminds me of the Caribbean. I shake off the idea that it has anything to do with the white sands of Aruba and a wistful night on the beach. Thoughts like that can get a girl in trouble.
I blow out my long red hair and think of Ainsley and how I should be calling her now and singing our good-morning song. It’s a melody I came up with when she was a baby, and it’s now something she looks forward to. Who am I kidding? The day she’s too big for a sunshine song from her mama will be the saddest day for me.
Joe jumps on the counter and tilts his head, as if asking for my thoughts. I pet his head.
“I miss my little girl. She’s a lot like you. Demanding, opinionated, and the sweetest snuggler ever. Too bad you’ll never meet.”
I can’t go to the store in a robe, so I fluff my hair and walk into the living room to ask Luke if I can borrow clothes.
Imagine my surprise to see we have company.
“There she is,” Luke announces as I walk down the short hallway to where he’s standing in his living room, holding a coffee mug, like he didn’t just see me in my birthday suit.