Chapter 3
Genevieve
Arriving at the address Luke gave me, I stop in front of the house and take a deep breath. I pull down the rearview mirror to check my appearance.
Staring into my eyes, I see the hurt still lurking there, the same hurt from when the man I’m going to see left me broken-hearted.
When he left, he never called or texted. Even Claire didn’t know exactly what was going on. The only thing she said was that he was struggling with their father's expectations. None of it made sense; it still doesn’t. But staring at his house, it hurts in a new way.
“What am I doing here?” A chill runs through me, and I consider just leaving.
“You can do this, Gen,” I tell myself. “He’s just another client who needs your help.”
Ugh. Why did I say I would do this?
“No. Stop.” I run my hand over my hair, smoothing it out, then methodically pulling it back into a hairband. Then I loosen a single strand that drapes over the side of my face and gently push it behind my ear. My fingers freeze for a second.
Slowly inhaling, I give myself a short nod. “You’ve got this.”
Before I can talk myself out, I pull into the driveway. A brown blur runs past the gate and off into what looks like a few acres of property. “Well, at least he has a fence,” I mumble, just as I step out of the car and make my way to a gate.
“BOOOOOGEY!” The deep voice of my past ripples through me, gripping my stomach and making my already racing pulse jump.
Luke doesn’t see me yet, so I have a moment to inspect him. The polished man I remember is nowhere to be found. Dark smudges stain under his eyes, his hair is completely disheveled, like he was blown through a wind tunnel, and a growl falls from his lips.
I press my lips together to keep a grin from sneaking out at his obvious distress.
Not my finest moment, but definitely a satisfying one.
A typical Husky yowl cuts through the air, more challenge than acquiescence.
I can’t help the snort that escapes.
Surprised brown eyes snap in my direction. Luke’s gaze finds mine, and my stomach lurches.
His eyes pop open, cheeks turn pink, and he rubs his hand up and down his face before grumbling. “He got away again.”
Reminding myself that I am a professional who has worked with clients much hotter, I mean tougher, than Luke Nichols, I blow out a sigh and calmly say. “I see that. Does he do this often?”
Luke’s head whips in my direction, his eyes narrowed. Once again, I feel an overwhelming delight in seeing his frustration.
“Yeah, he likes to run.” Luke’s eyes follow the energetic pup as he runs past him…’woo-ing’ the entire way.
“Guess we have our walk cut out for us.” I place my hand on the gate and let myself in, just as Luke starts walking after the dog, which only has him running away faster.
When I step into the yard, the Husky turns his gaze toward me and runs over, only to run away again when Luke reaches out to try to grab his collar.
“First lesson,” I say sternly. “Dogs think chase is a game. The more you chase or try to grab him, the faster he’ll work to stay out of your reach.”
Making my way over to his deck, I put my scheduling book on the table and settled in one of the chairs. When I glance up, it’s to find Luke staring at me, a question in his gaze. “I’m getting comfortable while we wait for—” I shift my gaze to the dog, “What’s his name?”
“Bogey,” Luke says sheepishly, and my eyes snap to his face.
“Bogey? You’ve never gotten a bogey in your life.”
“It was supposed to be ironic.” He shrugs, and I roll my eyes.
“Oh, it’s ironic for the guy who has a higher percentage of getting a hole-in-one than a bogey.”
Luke’s brows pull together, and his inquisitive brown eyes study me. Dang it. I just let him know I’ve been following his career.
How do I get myself out of this?
Just then, Bogey helps by running over to us and staring. Luke goes to reach out. “Don’t.” I stick my arm out toward him, as Bogey’s mouth widens into a canine smile before taking off again. “That’s exactly what he’s looking for. Grab a seat. This is going to take a while.”
“Aren’t you going to show me how to stop this?” He snips, pointing at Bogey as he makes another lap around the property like he has energy to do this all day long.
His Adam’s apple bobs just as he pulls out a chair and sits.
That’s right, Luke Nichols. Sit.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I look past him. Ditches and piles of dirt are scattered on the side of the yard. “He’s a digger too?” I jut my chin forward toward at least a dozen holes in the ground.
Luke turns his head, looking in the same direction. “What makes you think that?” His voice is hard and flat.
“Look.” I shoot up, grabbing my book, ready to leave right now. “If you keep acting like this, I’m gone.”
Luke’s head dips, and he looks down before he mumbles, “Sorry.”
Exhaling, I sit and roll my neck.
We sit in silence. My neck is stiff, and my shoulders locked, every nerve vibrating with how close he is. The faint scent of his cologne on a soft breeze assaults my nose, bringing up memories I want to leave in the past before Bogey makes his way back around to us.
But like before, he doesn’t come near Luke or me, but stares at us before dropping into a play bow and running off.
“Second lesson,” I say, breaking the heavy silence. “The waiting game.”
Luke scowls, and I can see he wants to say something sarcastic, but smartly keeps his mouth closed, making the corner of my lip pull up, and enjoying being in charge a bit too much.
“A dog with Bogey’s stamina and love of running is a dog you don’t chase. You need to let him tire himself out, get bored, and come to you.”
“What if he starts digging?” Luke scoffs.
“One thing at a time, Nichols. What are we working on right now?”
“Not chasing.”
“Yes. Something that should be very easy for you.” Internally, I slap myself for letting those words leave my mouth.
His head whips toward me, and tiny pricks of heat move around the side of my face, but I keep my eyes locked on the back field where I can see Bogey.
“What we need is for him to give us something to work with.”
“What do you mean?”
When I turn to meet his gaze, there’s genuine curiosity staring back at me, and I shrug. “Bogey is a smart boy, and we’re going to wait him out until he does what we want.”
Luke continues to stare at me, confusion etched on his face. “What do we want?”
“He chooses to come to us,” I say softly, my heart ramming against my ribcage.
I wanted him to come back. To choose me.
The back of my eyes sting, and I swallow.
But he didn’t.