8
Abby
One week later, I pull into my driveway, shut off my car, already excited to see Lukas. We’re having a quiet dinner in tonight, but I’ve learned quiet nights in with Lukas leads to a plethora of fantasies being checked off my list.
The man drives me to distraction. In today’s staff meeting, I’d drifted off, replaying the dirty, fantastic things we did together, so when it came time to give my report, I’d been so lost in fantasy one of my coworkers had to prompt me. At lunch with Janet the other day, I’d finally had a chance to confess everything that has happened with him, and my giddiness kind of embarrasses me.
But Janet didn’t mind, after all, she’s seen Lukas. She gets it.
I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and close my eyes.
It was getting harder and harder for me to focus on only the sex. It turns out he’s an awesome guy. I like spending time with him. He’s fun and knowledgeable and interesting. He has depth. Why can’t he be a buff, good-looking sex god whose only hobby is his next party?
That Lukas Marlow, the one I’d propositioned the night of my drunken birthday, I can handle. But he’s a hell of a lot more than a pretty face.
I sigh, and it sounds all dreamy and romantic. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.
We talk, a lot, about anything and everything. He’s told me all about his big, close-knit family. How as the baby, he’d been teased mercilessly by his brother and three sisters. How disappointed his mom had been when he followed in his father’s footsteps. How guilty he felt that, when his dad retired and his mom finally breathed a sigh of relief, he’d gone off and joined the department.
I can’t blame her. When Lukas had been just my neighbor, I hadn’t thought much about his job other than to fulfill my men-in-uniform fantasies. After listening to the reality of his profession, the first time he headed off to work, I hadn’t been able to relax until his car pulled into the driveway the following day.
Of course, he had to go ruin all my perceptions by being a great listener. Despite my best intentions, I kept talking about things I’d rather keep private. Somehow I’ve told him about my family and my troubled but beautiful big sister. I confessed how I’d spent my formative years never wanting to cause waves, wanting to make life as easy as possible for my preoccupied parents.
And damn it, he makes me feel special. Like I matter. Like I’m even a little exciting. He pushes and prods past my boundaries, yet is so encouraging, so supportive and understanding, I feel safe.
I blow out a breath. I can’t deny it. I’m falling for him. I’ll worry about it later.
I raise my head, gather my belongings, and climbed out of the car.
The second I slam the door, Lukas’s head pops out from behind the bushes—reminding me of the day our fling began. He gives me his best bad-boy smile, that damned, irresistible dimple flashing.
My heart gives a hard thump. No question about it. I’m falling hard.
Maybe if we didn’t spend every second of free time together it would be easier, but he’s like a magnet, drawing me in by some impossible-to-resist force.
“Hey, Abby girl, I was just getting in a little yard work before you got—” He stops abruptly, gaze narrowing.
I frown at his expression “What’s wrong?”
He points a shovel at me. “What are you wearing?”
Confused, I peer down at my outfit, not seeing anything amiss. “A dress, what does it look like?”
His jaw takes on a stubborn line I’ve begun to grow accustomed to. “I don’t like it.”
My shoulders jerk strait, and I scowl.
Jerk.
To think I’d been having gooey thoughts about him. Gooey thoughts or not, I’m not taking this shit.
“Well, too bad for you.” I walk up my driveway, irritation in every step. I’d fallen in love with this dress and he sure as hell isn’t going to ruin it for me. As part of my life overhaul, as a birthday gift to myself, I’d taken two thousand dollars out of my hard-earned savings to fund a new wardrobe.
I’d had one criterion for my purchases—I had to feel fabulous in them.
And I felt awesome in the formfitting black shirtwaist dress, so he can go screw himself tonight. The figure-hugging retro dress with its million tiny buttons, pencil skirt and a three-inch-wide belt looks fantastic on me. A fact verified by numerous accountants during the course of my day.
If Lukas doesn’t like it, too bad.