He’s right, of course. After Mimi… I don’t let anyone get too close. Especially someone like him, who’d enjoy nothing more than to take a sledgehammer to the walls around my heart, given half the chance. Men like Luca live for a good challenge, love nothing better than the thrill of conquering something most men would consider out ofreach.
He’d wreck me just to prove apoint.
I do realize, if I’d only sought him out when we first met, his interest probably would’ve vanished faster than a plate of double chocolate cupcakes placed in front of pregnant Gemma. Even I can see the irony: my determination to stay away from him is the sole reason he’s so fascinatedbyme.
They call it a catch-22. A circumstance with conflicting or mutually dependent conditions. I can’t get close to Luca without jeopardizing the dynamic of our entire friend group… and yet, my current strategy of pretending he doesn’t exist only seems to be making him more inclined to seekmeout.
Basically, I’m caught between a rock and Luca’s rock hard abs, with absolutely no way to extract myself gracefully. Which would be fine, if it was the only problem on my docket, but I’m dealing with so much other drama right now, boy troubles are the last thing I need tocontendwith.
Following him outside, I yank the hem of the sweatshirt down to cover my upper thighs, sticking close in Luca’s shadow as we pass a group of early-morning joggers out for a run along theharbor.
Who the hell runs this early?Voluntarily?
I catch a few strange looks cast my direction as we walk toward his bike. Understandable — the garters and heels are a bit much, for this time of day. (Or any timeofday.)
I’m steeling myself for another windswept ride on the back of the Ducati when Luca’s hand lands on the small of my back, bringing me to an abrupt halt on thesidewalk.
“We’ll take my truck.” He clicks a button on his keys — the taillights of the giant black pickup truck parked directly beside the bike flash inresponse.
I narrow my eyes at him. “And you decided against driving the truck to pick me up from jail, thereby sparing me humiliation and saving the citizens of Boston from an unsought viewing of my butt cheeks,because..?”
He shrugs. “Was more concerned with getting to you as fast as possible than anything else. Didn’t cross my mind you might not be dressed appropriately for a motorcycle ride. Next time, I’ll ask what you’re wearing before I pick a mode oftransportation.”
“There won’t be a next time,” I grumble, heading for thepassengerside.
“Whatever yousay,babe.”
Ugh!
I admit — I slam my door a little harder than necessary as I scramble up into the cab. (So, I’m not perfect. Sue me.) I manage to keep my eyes fixed stubbornly out the window the entire twenty-minute ride to my place. Half sulking, halfseething.
Luca seems equally content to stew insilence.
In truth, we’re both a little wary, after the past few hours together. Perhaps we said some things we didn’t intend to, crossed lines we weren’t supposed to, traded out our careful distance for startling intimacy too fast to course-correct. I’m not sure, exactly, but things certainly seemed a hell of a lot simpler when I didn’t know what his eyes look like from a millimeter away, when he couldn’t describe those near-translucent freckles that dust my nose in indisputabledetail.
We are Icarus, flying foolishly toward a low-hangingsun.
Tooclose.
Tooquick.
I fear a lethal fall isimminent.
When we pull up outside my building, Luca doesn’t even have a chance to shut the engine off before my fingers find their way to the door handle. I need to get out of this truck, away from this man, before I do something stupid like smack him across the face. Or kiss himsilly.
“Thank you.” I clear my throat. “For coming to my rescue. I don’t know what I would’ve done withoutyourhelp.”
“You’d have figuredsomethingout.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” I try out a smile. “Those police officers were a hell of a lot nicer toBlaze Buchananthan they ever weretome.”
His eyes never shift from mine. “You’d have been just fine. Doubt there are many things on this earth you can’t handle,Delilah.”
I swallow hard.Shit. I can handle his gruff commands and sarcastic commentary no problem… but when he’s sweet, something in my chest starts to feel tootight.
“I’ll pay you back for the bail money. I might not be able to right away, because… well, you know my financialsituation.”
He nods. “You don’t have to pay me backatall.”