Chapter 9
Genevieve
Luke’s got to be kidding, right? There’s no way I just heard him ask me out. Well, technically, he asked me to pretend to be his date so I could bid on him.
The small shimmy my heart gives at the thought of bidding on and winning one grumpy, yet exceedingly attractive Luke Nichols.
And yet, I’d give anything for J.B.’s annoying ringtone to interrupt our conversation. Watching Luke absentmindedly rub Bogey’s head, I can tell he’s uncomfortable with my silence, but I’m still trying to process what just happened.
With the brim of his hat pulled down like it is I can’t read anything his eyes might express about what he’s feeling.
Does he actually want to go with me, or am I just the convenient option?
More than that, do I want to go with him? Even if it is just pretend?
What if he’s teasing me? Would he do that? Would he really take the chance of making me angry by joking with me?
My pulse races, and despite any rational argument against it, I’m considering saying yes.
Pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, I inhale before asking, “Why would you need protection from the sweet little old ladies at Evergreen Whisper Hall?”
“Sweet?” Luke scoffs, and I notice red creeping up his neck just as he lifts his hat before cramming it back on his head. “There isn’t anything sweet about a group of seniors using you for the subject of their art class.”
“Subject?” An eyebrow lifts, my curiosity piqued. “Tell me more!”
When his lips flatten, and the color on his neck darkens, I snort. I really do enjoy a frustrated Mr. Nichols.
“C’mon,” I push his shoulder and instantly regret it as tiny sparks shoot down my body at the warmth radiating off him. “It’s not like it was you! Spill the beans.”
Luke lets out a sharp breath, one that has me questioning whether he’ll tell me anything about the other athlete and why he doesn’t want it to happen to him.
Bogey is lying on the ground, snout resting on his front legs; whatever his owner is feeling, the husky isn’t concerned. Which means it’s more about the ego of the man standing in front of me than anything else. Luke fidgets with the brim of his hat.
“They had him…” My gaze falls to his throat as he swallows. I feel the corner of my mouth tug up at his obvious unease. “Pose.”
He shivers as he says the last word, and my thoughts immediately jump to someone wearing fig leaves.
“Naked?” I breathe out, surprised.
Luke’s eyes get so round I can actually see the whites of them under the brim of his hat, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Worse.”
“Worse?” My brows knit together, confused at what could be worse than posing for a group of old biddies without a stitch of clothing on.
When he shivers again, I can’t stop the laughter I’ve been holding back. “Mitch Blue is one of J.B.’s other clients. He plays Tennis.”
“Oookay.”
“They had him pose, with his racket, tennis shorts, and…” My eyes narrow, and a brow quirks as I can’t help but think he’s being overly dramatic. “Without a shirt on.”
My eyes widen, and I can’t help but wonder how Mitch Blue would look in only his white tennis shorts. “Doesn’t sound so bad—”
“One painting is hanging on the wall at Evergreen Whisper Hall’s entryway—”
“I don’t believe you!” I exclaim, cutting him off. “There’s no way the administration would allow that.”
“I told you those women are crazy! They can do whatever they want. It’s like Mean Girls…the senior version.”
A huge smile stretches my mouth, and I shake my head. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Oh?” His lips flatten again, and his head tilts. “Ask me what they did with a second picture. Go ahead.” His fingers are taunting me as they pull in toward him. “Ask.”
“What did they do with the second one?” I ask, barely containing a grin.
“They submitted it to the annual Starhaven/Oakhaven art contest. And they won.”
A giggle escapes me as the painting hanging in the library spotlighting all the winners pops up in my head.
I don’t have to wonder what Mitch Blue looks like without a shirt, because he looks good.
Ridiculously good. Whoever painted him was a true artist in every sense of the word.
They knew all about creating contour, depth, and shadows.
That man’s back and pecks are well-defined and extremely lifelike.
“That painting hanging in the library is a masterpiece!”
Even though I can’t see Luke’s eyes, I’m positive he just rolled them at me. “I don’t care how good the artist was, I’d prefer not to be on display half naked, hanging on someone’s, or multiple someone’s wall, thank you very much.”
As if I have no control over myself, my gaze falls to Luke’s chest and arms. He’s filled out since I last saw him. He might actually look better than Mitch. I push past the cotton suddenly lodged in my throat and push out. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad.”
“You know what?” he throws his hand in the air, and huffs out a frustrated breath. “Forget I asked for your help.”
“But you did ask.” A smirk lines my lips.
“Yeah, but now I’m not so sure you’d actually help me.”
He’s not wrong. After seeing the work the old biddies of Evergreen Whisper Hall can do, I’m tempted to let them get their hands on ‘Golf’s Grim Reaper’. But I’m not sure if it’s to humiliate him or to have him permanently… preserved.
“I guess it would depend,” I tease, crossing my arms.
“Depend on what?” His voice is wary.
“Oh so many factors, Mr. Nichols.” I take a step closer to him and grab the brim of his hat, lifting it so I can look in his brown eyes. “The first being if I was in a good mood.”
Luke’s eyes darken, and he blows out a slow breath.
My gaze falls to his lips, and my pulse quickens.
I’m still holding his hat and only now realize just how close I am to him.
What started as me innocently teasing him has become me remembering what it feels like to be in his arms, his lips on mine.
Shoving his hat back down, I take a step away before turning to face the cars so I can get as far from him as possible before I do something unwise. Looking over my shoulder, I see Bogey standing up, stretching, and Luke just standing there staring after me.
Or I assume he’s staring at me, since I still can’t see his eyes under the brim of his hat. And with the muscle in his jaw ticking, that’s probably for the best.
“Are you coming?” I tilt my head toward the parking lot and watch his shoulders stiffen before he gives me a quick nod. Chewing on my bottom lip, I wait for him and Bogey to catch up.
We walk in silence, moving slowly as Luke remembers to follow the steps we went over to keep his husky from pulling.
His determination is always something I’ve admired, and seeing him apply it to this dog is touching me in a way that’s throwing me for a loop. Affection warms me watching him.
Heck, Luke is throwing me. He’s the same as before, and yet he’s different. I can’t put my finger on it… Except now he’s able to be patient if Bogey doesn’t do as asked immediately.
Pulling my eyes away from the man and the husky, I look down at the vibrant grass, tug at my braid, and ask, “When’s the fundraiser?”
“In a few weeks, on a Saturday night,” he responds a few paces behind me.
I shouldn’t say yes. I shouldn’t even be entertaining this. I agreed to help him with his dog, saying it was strictly professional. Going out with him, even if it’s pretend, is crossing a dangerous line.
And that’s exactly why you should say no.
“Let me think about it and get back to you.” Pulling my keys from my pocket, I move them between my fingers rather than unlock my car. Turning around to face Luke, I see him watching me, his hand mindlessly running through Bogey’s fur again. He gives me a slight nod.
And I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, bringing my mental focus back to why we’re here.
Dog Training.
“There’s something I think we should work on that your sled dog would love. It would also help you get in a workout at the same time. Do you have a bike?”
“I think so.” Luke’s head tilts in that way it always used to when he was uncertain of something.
My stomach flips. Yup. I should definitely say no to the fundraiser, but the desire to spend more time with him has me certain I won’t be able to.
“Great. You’re going to need it for bikejoring.”
“Bike what?”
“Bikejoring,” I say again, referring to the sport where the dog runs ahead of the cyclist and pulls the bike, like sledding but on dry land. “I’ll get you a list of everything you need.”
Unlocking my car, I slide in and start the engine, giving a quick wave before I step on the gas pedal.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, I watch as Luke opens the back of his SUV and Bogey hops in.
A tiny flicker of excitement flits through me at the thought of walking into the Fur-Ever Homes fundraiser on Luke’s arm. He is in a tuxedo, me in a gown, all eyes on us.
“Whoa, Gen. Remember it wouldn’t be real.”
Even as I tell myself that, the flicker of excitement becomes a flame.
I have to buy a dress.