Luke: A West Bend Saints Romance

Then I went and broke the second rule. No sticking around after sex.

 

Now, I’m standing here about to knock on the front door of her house, so I can break another rule. I’m going on a date with her? And, a million times worse, I’m coming to her house to cook dinner for her and her kid?

 

I’m in way over my fucking head.

 

She’s messing with my head, making me want to break all the rules I have. I don’t know what it is about her, but I should be running and I’m not. Instead, I’m here, armed with supplies like I’m Joe Regular, coming home from a normal nine-to-five to my house in the goddamned suburbs.

 

I knock on the door, and she pulls it open, her cheeks flushed, hair falling in messy wet tendrils down her shoulders. She's dressed in a thin cotton bathrobe that’s worn so well that it's nearly sheer, knotted loosely at the side but falling open to reveal her cleavage. “Sorry,” she says, breathless. “I was working, and Greta left early, and Olivia – I think she’s teething and she’s been a hot mess the past couple of hours and I just barely got out of the shower.”

 

“You look –“

 

Autumn interrupts me. “Trust me, I know. I’m almost as much of a mess as Olivia,” she says, pointing to Olivia, who’s standing in the middle of the hallway, her eyes rimmed red. Lucy immediately bounds down the hall, and Olivia squeals with delight, her entire attitude suddenly changing. “I’m sorr –“

 

I don’t even bother to wait, because I can’t. I bring my mouth down on hers, silencing her excuses, until she pulls away, still breathless, but this time for a different reason. “You look perfect,” I say.

 

Fuck, that’s some lame shit. I immediately want to slap myself. That’s cheesy as hell, like a line from a movie or something.

 

Autumn just laughs, trying to step away from me. “You’re lying,” she says.

 

Hell, now she thinks I’m just messing around with her. Except I’m not. It doesn’t matter what she’s wearing, makeup or not; I can’t get enough of her. I pull her against me, into my hardness, my lips close to her ear. “That says I’m not lying.”

 

She giggles, pushing me back. “You obviously have low standards.”

 

“I think it’s the other way around,” I say, walking down the hallway toward the kitchen, greeting Olivia on my way. Olivia and Lucy trail closely behind me, following the food source.

 

“I’m starting to think kids really aren't all that much different from dogs. And I totally understand dogs."

 

“Oh, you think?” Autumn is standing in the kitchen, her hand on her hip, fabric from the bathrobe falling loosely around her curves and God help me, all I can think of is how much I want to pull the tie that holds her robe together and let the entire thing come undone.

 

God, how I want her to come undone.

 

“Yep.” I set the bags on the counter and look over my shoulder at Olivia, who’s on her hands and knees mimicking Lucy’s posture with head on her hands and rear end in the air. “In fact, if you want to put on clothes – not that I think you should, mind you, since I much prefer you this way – I think Lucy has the whole babysitting thing covered.”

 

“Okay,” she says.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yes,” she says. “I’m right upstairs, though, if you need anything. Don’t put any pans on the front burners, and just watch that nothing splatters if you turn the stovetop on, and…”

 

I turn around, leaning against the counter, watching her tick off items on her fingers, mentally running through every possible catastrophe that might befall Olivia while she’s upstairs. “Got it. No deep frying on the stove when the baby is on the floor,” I say. “Or dangling hot pans in front of her.”

 

Autumn sticks her tongue out at me. “I’m sure there are other dangerous things I’m forgetting.”

 

“She’s allowed to use knives, right?”

 

Autumn narrows her eyes at me. “I think that was sarcastic, but on the off chance that it’s not…”

 

“That was incredibly sarcastic,” I say. “Everyone knows toddlers can only peel potatoes, not use chopping knives.”

 

“Fine,” she says. “I’m leaving.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

I wait until she’s walking away to squat down in front of Olivia. “Are you thirsty?” I ask. “You drink out of a glass now, don’t you? I brought wine."

 

“I heard that!” Autumn yells from the stairway.

 

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