Heels (Boots Book 2) Page 6

  I opened my mouth, but a deep voice from within the garage cut me off. “Hey, Peaches.”

  Luke walked out into a patch of sunlight. His coveralls were tugged down to his waist, revealing a black tank top. He was wiping his hands with a rag, causing his biceps to flex. His hair was a mess, his face stubbled, and his eyes were firing at me, coupled with a smile that conveyed he was very, very happy to see me. And like that, my mouth went dry. Words failed me. Because Luke standing there with a grease stain on his neck and sweat beading on his temple was a fucking vision. Vision.

  When I found my voice, I managed to say, “I brought you lunch.”

  His eyebrows went up for a moment, just a brief second that let me know I’d surprised him. I grinned.

  “Damn,” Harry muttered. “You been here a month and got the town sweetheart bringing you lunch at work. Color me impressed.”

  “Bet she’s got her cookies in there, don’t ya, Miss Sam?” Michael asked, shaking his head.

  I pulled my lips between my teeth and nodded.

  Michael groaned.

  “I got enough for all of you, no worries,” I said.

  “For real?” Michael’s eyes widened. “Damn, all right. Don’t piss her off then, Trainor. It’s your job to keep us in cookies now.”

  “I’ll do my best to keep her happy.” Luke hadn’t taken his eyes off me. I felt like a million bucks. “Are you eating with me?”

  I hadn’t really thought this out, because yes, I planned to eat with him. But I didn’t know where we were going to eat, or if he even had time for lunch. “Um, I didn’t eat yet and brought enough for myself…”

  “Take the table out back,” Harry said. “No rush. Miss Sam drove out here with food she made to eat with you, then you’re going to sit and eat with her.”

  “Thanks, old man,” Luke said. “Come on, Peaches. I’ll take you out back.”

  I followed him around the side of the garage, and in a patch of grass beyond the back parking lot was a picnic table. It’d seen better days and white paint peeled off of it in strips, but it was a table.

  “Let me wash my hands and I’ll get something to cover the table.” Luke glanced at my clothes. “Something for the bench too. Be back in a sec.”

  I waited patiently, the cooler at my feet, as he disappeared back into the garage. A few minutes later, he returned with several stained cloths. “I know they look bad,” he grinned. “But they’re clean.”

  “You don’t have to go through the trouble. My clothes will wash.”

  “Nah, this table will probably give you splinters.”

  He spread out a cloth on the bench, then the table, then picked up the cooler and slung it over his shoulder. “Not going to lie, I’m starving.”

  “Well, I’m glad,” I said as we sat down across from each other. “I made a lot of food.”

  He unzipped the cooler and I pulled out the spread—plates, flatware, and carefully packed food containers. We helped ourselves to heaping plates and Luke dug in with gusto.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “You made all this?”

  “Um, yes.” I pointed to each container of food as I mentioned it. “I seasoned and grilled the chicken. Made the pasta salad. That’s easy though. Just boiling the pasta and cutting up all the ingredients then mixing the dressing. The bruschetta is a recipe I make so much that I have it memorized, and um… I baked the cookies.”

  When I glanced up he was staring at me while chewing a mouthful of food slowly. He swallowed and then pointed his fork at me. He opened his mouth, blinked, then huffed. He looked back down at his plate. “Not even sure what to say.”

  Oh no, was the chicken undercooked? Pasta too al dente? “About what? Is everything okay?”

  “Is everything okay?” he asked. “Are you fucking serious?” He circled his fork over his plate. “This is goddamn delicious. I’ve been trying to cook myself since I moved here. I thought, hey if I have a recipe, it’s not so bad right? Wrong. I wasted so much money fucking up food and then I was pissed because I was out money and I was hungry. Now you show up with a whole damn smorgasbord of food.”

  “Luke—”

  “I need you to be bad at something. Right now, all I got is that you can dance, you’re gorgeous, you read silly books to little kids, you can cook, and your pussy tastes like peaches.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  He wasn’t done. He stabbed at a piece of pasta, muttering, “Tell me you have dandruff or you’re a bad driver or something.”

  I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing. I couldn’t remember a time I laughed that loud.

  “What?” he cried with a mouth full of food. “Do you clog the shower with hair? Leave toothpaste in the sink?”

  “Stop!” I bent at the waist, stomach cramping as I sought to catch my breath.

  When I lifted my head, wiping at my wet eyes, he was grinning. “So?”

  I heaved a breath. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Give me a flaw, and I’ll stop.”

  I rolled my eyes, bubbles of laughter still shaking my shoulders. “Okay, um. Let’s see. I’m trying not to think of anything too embarrassing.”

  He put his fork down and folded his hands in front of him. “Hit me.”

  I bit my lip. “Okay well I guess an annoying, pet-peeve-like flaw is that I usually can’t get through a meal without spilling food on myself.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Terrible. I can’t live with that.”

  I laughed. “And I guess a deeper one would be…I cry. When I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I’m angry. I cry. I hate it because growing up, I was made fun of. Tears are weak, or so kids think. But they’re my outlet and how I cope with things. I cry. Tim hated—” I closed my mouth and looked away. I hadn’t meant to bring him up. I didn’t want him here between us. But Tim had hated when I cried. And because life with him was so miserable, I cried a lot, which only made things worse.

  Luke didn’t say anything for a long time, and I kept my gaze to the side, staring at a small storage shed at the edge of the garage lot.

  “Sam,” he said, finally, his voice deep.

  I pursed my lips and turned my head slowly. When my eyes met his, I clenched my fists on my thighs. His eyes were molten. “That your ex?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “He didn’t like when you cried?”

  I shook my head.

  His eyes tracked my face, up to my hairline, down to my chin, until finally meeting my eyes again. He nodded once, and a muscle in his jaw jerked. “Your ex, Peaches. He’s a piece of shit.” He picked up his fork and continued to eat. “I’m glad I know his name now.” A smile spread across his face. A cold smile.

  Ice slithered down my spine. “Luke, he’s not…please forget his name. Forget him. I’m not sure you understand how nasty he is.”

  Luke’s smile went from cold to sinister. “Good to know.” He continued to eat while I sat there wondering what kind of grenade I’d just thrown into my life. Yes, Tim was a nasty piece of work, but Luke was a wild card. The scars, the muscles, the smile that didn’t scare me, but made me scared for others. I didn’t move, my back straight, my hands clenched on my lap, watching as he finished his food.

  He dropped his fork on his plate and leaned back, rubbing his stomach. “Damn I’m not sure I have room for dessert, but I’m going to make room.”

  I smiled faintly. “You can take them home for later.”

  He shook his head and dug in the cooler for the container of cookies. “By the way, want to know my flaw? I mean, I got loads, but the biggest is a doozy.”

  I didn’t want to know. Except I did. My voice shook. “What’s your flaw, Luke?”

  He peeled the lid off the cookies and selected one. He took a bite and moaned. “Damn these are fucking good. You’re a master.”

  “I’m glad you like them.”

  “My flaw…” He propped his elbow on the table, cookie dangling from his fingers, that cold smile froze on his lips. “Is
that, when fuckers mess with people I care about, I turn into a vengeful destructive bastard.”

  I swallowed. “Okay.”

  “So you think Tim is a nasty piece of work? Don’t care, because I’ll tell you what baby, I’m one thousand times nastier.”

  “Luke,” I said quietly. “I don’t like violence. Or threats.”

  His face didn’t change. “No violence. No threats. Just saying. He fucks with you, and he’ll find out what I think about motherfuckers like him. Understand?”

  “You’re scaring me a bit,” I said honestly.

  His face changed, almost instantly. The hard edges smoothed out, and his smile softened. He leaned closer to me, holding my gaze. “You never have to be scared of me.”

  “I-I know,” I said. “But I’m scared what you might do to Tim.”

  He shrugged. “Valid concern, but you said no violence. So no violence.”

  I titled my head, a bit of confidence and rising in me. “And you’ll listen when I ask you to do something?”

  “If it’s reasonable, I will do everything in my power to honor your requests.”

  “That sounds quite formal.”

  “Yeah, I was kind of proud of that sentence.” He shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth, grinned, then reached for another.

  “Where did you move from? And what did you do before this?”

  “Jersey,” he said quickly. “Can’t tell from my accent?”

  “I wasn’t sure.”

  “And I worked odd jobs, here and there. Came down here to start over.”

  “Why’d you pick here?”

  “Honestly? Closed my eyes and dropped my finger on a map.”

  I laughed. “You did not.”

  He held up his hand. “True story. Scout’s honor.”

  I scoffed. “You were never a boy scout.”

  He laughed. “Also true.” He finished off his second cookie. “So I’d love to take you somewhere and make out, but I should get back to work. Harry said to take my time, but I’m not trying to abuse my boss’s good faith.”

  I blushed. “No, you’re right.” I pointed at the cookies. “Keep those for the guys?”

  “They’ll be thrilled.”

  “I’m looking forward to dinner.” I stood up from the bench and brushed off my skirt.

  “Me too. Thanks again for lunch.” He stepped into my space, kind eyes heated. He pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then grinned. “Walk you to your car?”

  “I’d love that.”

  We packed up the cooler, and Luke carried it all to the car for me. He helped me inside, ever the perfect gentleman, although I was fully aware anyone driving down the main street would see us. And they would talk.

  “Drive safe.” He shut my door and walked back toward the garage, cookies in hand. I watched him go, and it wasn’t a bad view.

  Seven

  If you didn’t grow up poor, you didn’t understand what it meant to look poor and actually be poor. I’d seen the funny memes—women who were carefree and didn’t think one thing about going to the grocery store in their stained sweatpants or unwashed them. To them, it was funny and quirky. Because they didn’t have to do it. They didn’t know what it was like to be the poor girls in the town who didn’t shower because there was no hot water, who didn’t have clean clothes because the washing machine was broken. Who didn’t have the whole damn town looking at them with pity.

  I vowed when I made my own money that I’d never look like that in public again. Maybe that was shallow, or materialistic, but looking put together meant something to me. I didn’t have to look rich—but clean and well-dressed? A necessity.

  Luke had said dinner and movie, nothing really fancy, but that didn’t matter to me. I’d curled my hair, I’d put on makeup—not a lot, I didn’t have the skills, but I’d learned a thing or two from Reva and her friends. And I wore a teal sundress that complemented my hair and skin and hugged my curves. I’d bought it after I divorced Tim because it was the type of dress I’d always wanted but knew Tim would hate.

  My doorbell rang as I was slipping into my strappy heels. I flung open the door, not even trying to act casual, because I was so excited to go on my first date in years.

  Luke stood on the doorstep, looking delicious in a pair of dark jeans and a button down rolled up at the elbows. He held a bouquet of lilac tulips. “Oh,” I gasped, taking the bundle from him. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you. You didn’t have to buy me flowers.” I snuck my nose in a bloom and inhaled, loving the fresh scent. “Let me get them in water, and then we can leave.” I turned to walk down the hall, but stopped when I realized he hadn’t stepped over the threshold yet.

  I looked over my shoulder. Luke hadn’t moved, and his eyes were on my ass. I stopped and turned fully to him, hand on my hip. “Are you coming?”

  His gaze shamelessly lingered at my waist, before traveling up, stopping for a long while at my breasts, before finally meeting my eyes. “Am I coming?”

  “Yeah, do you want to come into the kitchen with me while I put these in a vase?”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked strangely.

  What on earth? “Well, yes. We’re having dinner, aren’t we?”

  He didn’t let up that intense stare. “If you’re hungry, then no I’m not coming into the kitchen with you. I come into the kitchen with you and I can’t be held responsible for my hands peeling that dress off you. So since you’re hungry, I’ll wait here, where I’ll behave myself because I’m still in public.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Babe. Deadly.”

  “Luke.”

  “Peaches.”

  “It’s just a dress.”

  “It’s a fantastic dress on your body with those heels. Don’t fucking tell me I’m not looking at what I’m looking at, which is a woman who’s making me hard. Now go put the flowers in some damn water then get back here so we can leave.”

  I had no response to that. None. So I walked into my kitchen and robotically pulled down a vase from the top shelf of a cabinet, fill it with water, and arranged the flowers inside. The whole time, Luke’s words played on a loop in my head. He found me that desirable that he didn’t even want to come into my house for fear he’d ravage me. It sounded ridiculous and maybe it was a little bit, but yet I could not deny how good it felt to be that wanted by a man as magnetic as Luke Trainor.

  I knew confidence came from within, but it sure didn’t help to be admired from someone you wanted to impress.

  I returned to the front door, maybe with an extra sway in my step, and a larger grin than before. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  After making sure I locked the door, he grabbed my hand and led me toward his large truck sitting all white and gleaming in my driveway. It hadn’t occurred to me to think about what Luke would drive but if I had to guess, it’d be this truck.

  “Welcome to my girl,” he said, holding out a hand toward it. “I bought her when I moved down here and she’s my favorite possession I think I ever had. Never trusted a truck as nice as this where I lived before. Someone would have stolen it or slashed the tires or some shit.”

  I ran a hand along the shiny hood. “She’s very pretty.”

  “Thanks, she appreciates when you compliment her.” He shot me a grin, then helped me inside before rounding the front and getting into the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition and his smile got brighter when the truck roared to life. “Love that sound.” He backed out of my driveway and then switched gears to head down my street. With a hand braced on the steering wheel, his eyes scanned me. “So with you looking like that, I feel like I should be taking you to a fancy dinner in a big city somewhere.”

  “I like to look nice in public.” Maybe it was the intimacy of the small space, or the fact that I didn’t have to meet his eyes, but I decided to give him a little of myself. That was what a date was about, wasn’t it? He’d find out sooner rather than later anyway. “When I grew up, I didn’t have th
e money or the means to look anything but poor. And dirty. I always vowed when I grew up, I’d make something of myself and I’d never have to go to the grocery store in stained ill-fitting clothes again if I didn’t have to.”

  He didn’t speak for a while, and his fingers tapped the steering wheel in time to the slow rock song playing on the radio. “Grew up the same way,” he said. “And I promised myself I wouldn’t bring a kid into a world where little boys have to pick up bats to prevent men from fucking with their families.”

  My stomach dropped into my toes. “What?”

  He smiled, and it was the one I didn’t like, the cold eerie one. “Ma had a lot of johns and they weren’t always nice.”

  Johns. “Oh Luke, I’m sorry she had to do that to provide for her family.”

  His crack of laughter made me flinch. It was a harsh sound devoid of actual humor. “Provide for her family? Nah. She fucked dudes to keep herself in booze and heroin. There wasn’t any providing going on.”

  I didn’t say a word, dread slithering down my spine and spreading out to my limbs. My fingers went numb, and I swallowed around the knot in my throat. “Luke.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t have mommy issues or anything. I had great women in my life. My mom just wasn’t one of them.” He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  My voice was hoarse when I spoke. “My mom just chose bad men. Always. She tried, but she wasn’t a good mom, so my sister and I looked out for each other. I’m sorry you didn’t have anyone.”

  He didn’t respond to that, only stared straight ahead as a muscle in his jaw jumped. After about half a minute of awkward silence, his hand rested lightly on my thigh and squeezed. I glanced up to see a soft smile on his face. “Enough baring our souls, yeah? It’s a date. We’re supposed to laugh.”

  “We’re supposed to get to know each other too. And I feel like I know you a little better now. That can’t be wrong.”

  He took his hand back and gripped the steering wheel. “Guess not.”

  Twenty minutes later, we pulled into Ironside Grille, a restaurant outside of Gentry near the movie theater.