I'm a mother with her child in the car seat headed to a play date for goodness' sake.
I'm flirting with disaster and I know it. And yet, I can't stop myself.
When I roll down the window, Luke stops what he's doing and sets down his roll of wire and pliers. He turns toward me. I swear he moves like something out of a movie, as if he's walking in slow motion. He might as well have a soundtrack to his movements as he saunters over to me. I don't know where to focus as he walks – on the smug smile on his face, or on his chest muscles, covered in tattoos, glistening in the sunlight, sweat rolling down them in rivulets. It's probably fifty degrees outside and he's shirtless like it's summertime.
He's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. And I'm gaping at him like I'm a silly lust-struck teenager.
Luke leans over, his forearms on the edge of the car window, and peers inside. "Hey, Olivia," he says, his voice a singsong he seems to have adopted just for her. She giggles and says hi back. He grins at me. "I think she might like me."
"She likes licking the floor in the kitchen, too," I say, trying to sound flippant, except I can't wipe the stupid grin off my face. Or ignore the insistent throbbing between my legs. "So there's obviously no accounting for taste."
How the hell does he smell so good? He should smell like crap, working outside for hours like this doing manual labor. Fuck, even his sweat smells sexy.
"Aww. Now she's developing good taste," Luke says. "Like her mother."
I force my eyes away from him, looking straight ahead – businesslike, professional. If I were to look at him, at his lips just inches away from me, I don't think I could help myself. I breathe in deeply, trying not to picture the way his lips felt against mine, or the way his touch sent a shiver through me, to my core.
I clear my throat. "I'm going into town after visiting a friend," I say. "Should I bring back some lunch for you and the guys? I mean, it'll be more of an early dinner by the time I get back, but I figured I'd ask." Am I babbling? I force my voice to be steady, clearing my throat again to hide my sudden nervousness.
"Sure, Red. That'd be nice."
"I told you to stop calling me that," I complain, except I'm not sure I mean it anymore. I've always hated stupid pet names, but the way Luke does it is growing on me. The nickname rolls off his tongue – languid, familiar, intimate – and it makes me picture him saying it while he's close to me, his lips against my ear.
Hell, it makes me think about him saying it while he's inside me.
"Whatever you say, Red." When he slowly saunters back to the group of guys, like he knows I'm watching his every move, I find myself exhaling the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
"Play date with June," I say to Olivia as I put the car in reverse and back down the access road. But it's not a reminder of where we're going; it's a reminder to myself to get my damn head screwed on straight.
June hands me a glass of iced tea, then collapses into the rocking chair beside me.
"Seriously, I should be getting that for you, you know." I take a sip. "I don't know how you're running around after little Stan and taking care of a new baby and keeping up with the bed and breakfast. Oh, and making iced tea."
June laughs. "Well, Cade has been immensely helpful," she admits. "He's my saving grace, really. He's cutting back on hours at the bike shop, and has taken up more around the house and at the B&B. He's inside right now doing daddy duty with Callie so I can enjoy a little girl time."
I watch as Olivia takes a plastic car and runs it over the sandcastle Stan is building in the sandbox. He lets out an ear-piercing scream. "And peaceful kid time," I observe. "Olivia, that is not nice. Tell him sorry."
June laughs as Olivia wraps her arms around Stan, which immediately appeases the easygoing kid. "I think this is as relaxing as it's going to get for a while," she says. "The bed and breakfast has been busier lately, especially since River moved to West Bend, and Cade has had more demand for custom paint jobs the past month or so."
"That's great, right?" I ask.
River Andrews is a movie star — a big one — and she stayed at June's bed and breakfast when she first came out to West Bend. Then she fell in love with a guy from the town and moved here. Supposedly, a studio is making a movie out of it. It's like a fairytale romance. June's bed and breakfast has gotten a big boost in tourist traffic because of River.
June sips from her glass. "When it rains, it pours, right? Anyway, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Being a surgeon was good training for parenthood – at least for the sleep deprivation part of things, anyway."
"I'm really not sure I can picture you as a Navy surgeon," I say, looking at the June I know here, the one who's so laidback, calm, and casual.
"Says the woman with an MBA from Wharton who ran a multimillion-dollar bourbon company," retorts June with a laugh.