“It’s okay…” I trailed, looking everywhere but at him.
Good God. Was his air conditioning on?
It was hot as hell. Stifling, even.
“You seem jumpy, Joey,” he murmured, coming to a stop a foot or so away, so close I could smell his breath, nothing but mint drifting my way. “Do I make you nervous?”
“I’m fine,” I lied, desperate to get a grip, not an easy task with him wearing next to nothing. “You’re half-naked, so I’m trying to be polite.”
He chuckled, a low rumble rolling between us. “You knew how I was dressed when you came in.”
“Who answers the door in their underwear?” I blurted, stamping wildly at the fire burning through my mind, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch him, to see if those muscles felt as good as they looked.
He grinned, running a hand through his beard. “Who comes inside when a man answers the door in his underwear?”
“An idiot,” I muttered.
Another slow roll of laughter echoed from him, each wave making my heart skip a beat. “What was that, Joey?”
I kept my hands and eyes to myself, ready to escape before I combusted. “Nothing.”
“Go ahead. Look around.” He stepped back, cutting off the pull between us, not that he could keep my eyes away. “I’ll hang out on the couch.”
He sauntered to the sofa, back as tattooed and muscled as his front, ass hugged tight by thin cotton.
“I don’t want to invade your home, Luke,” I admitted, suddenly feeling awkward. What if he had a woman in his bed? I would die of embarrassment.
“It used to be just as much yours as mine,” he pointed out, flopping down, his dog hopping up beside him.
“Do you have any pictures…?” I trailed, taking in every inch of the space, wanting nothing more than to see Nan and Pops’ faces again. I spied the kitchen table I’d sat at with Nan, a sudden knot forming in my throat.
He nodded, popping up and strolling across the room, passing just inches from me, his scent heavy as he grabbed an album off a shelf, a worn brown leather book that had seen better days. He thrust it toward me, his eyes locking with mine again, this time the fire behind them blazing out of control.
While he returned to the couch next to his dog, I sat on the plush ottoman, flipping open the cover to reveal a photo of the Barrett boys and their grandparents.
“This used to be on the wall behind you,” I murmured, smiling at the photo.
Nan looked peaceful as ever, her gray-streaked locks secured in her signature long braid, while Pops rocked suspenders, his impossibly bushy mustache wild. Luke was tiny, his two front teeth missing, and Jason stood tall with his hands resting on a mischievous Ethan’s shoulders.
“Yup,” he replied, reaching out to pat his dog. “It’s stored in the attic. It got depressing seeing it every day.”
I turned to the next page, giggling at Luke and Ethan in their teenage years down on the dock, a moody Jason glowering in the background wearing the awful tattered jacket he loved. The photo was from around when we started hanging out, Luke impossibly young and innocent compared to the hairy ogre on the sofa.
The next page revealed a photo from Pops’ birthday, his last before he passed. It was a group shot of the boys and their grandparents with Pops’ cake, one I’d taken out on the deck.
The difference in Luke was night and day between the photos, so much so I had to flip back and forth, a genuine smile on his face in the birthday photo.
I could still remember lighting the candles on Pops’ cake, seventy-two taking forever and a day. Luke helped, but Nan and I chased him out when he kept swiping icing.
“He loved that cake,” he murmured softly.
We made his favorite, strawberry, with real berry filling, disguising the pink cake with a manly blue buttercream that stained Luke’s lips, outing him as the icing stealer. At a closer look, I spied the faint blue hue to his smile in the photo.
The next page brought with it a stab to the heart, a picture of Nan, Pops, and I around the table paused for a photo mid-card game, likely engaged in a spirited round of Bullshit. “You kept this?”
“Of course I kept it,” he grumbled, his face contorted in disgust. “You’re family.”
You don’t turn on family.
You don’t offer them up as a sacrifice.
“Can I make a copy someday?” I asked, biting my cheek to keep tears at bay.
“Copy any photo you want.”
“Thanks.” I closed the book, knowing I’d sob like a baby if I wandered any further down memory lane. “I have to go. Liv and Linc are waiting for me.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, climbing to his feet. “Wouldn’t want your precious little sister to think I’m corrupting you.”
“You’re hardly corrupting me in your panties, Barrett.” I stood and handed him the album, keeping plenty of space between us.
He climbed to his feet, muscles flexing all the while, standing inches away. “Is that so, Joey?”
“Yup.” I fled towards the door, thoughts of him bending me over the couch flooding my mind, those massive hands pawing at my hips as he brought me to the edge.
What was wrong with me?
It wasn’t some random sexy guy for the taking; it was Luke. A taken Luke. I’m sure Tally wouldn’t appreciate me fantasizing about her man. And what kind of creep invited a woman inside dressed like that when he had a girlfriend? And why did I go inside?
Despite it all, nothing dulled the attraction as he came toward me, a slow-motion collision in the making, each of my back steps met by one of his long strides forward. Before I knew it, I was
