Chapter 30
thirty
It’s our last morning at the cabin, and I’m currently refusing to move from my spot on the bed.
The one keeping Luke pinned under me.
“We can come back any time you want,” he mumbles into my hair.
“I’m not done dissociating yet. So I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His chest hums under my cheek. “You know what would make things better?”
“Do tell.”
“Freshly baked cookies.” In a flash, he’s thrown the covers off us, planted me on my pillow and tucked my naked body back beneath the sheets.
“Now stay your cute little ass in bed while I run into town and get you the last batch of the morning, so we can munch on them on the drive back.” He takes off in search of his clothes.
I’m too busy staring at his bare ass to notice that he’s being ridiculous. “Hey. Take those clothes back off and get in bed,” I say grumpily.
He pulls up his jeans and chuckles while buttoning up. “Never gonna tire of those words coming out of your mouth, Daze. But I am a man of my word, and I’ve promised my woman a sweet treat, so I must deliver.”
He darts around the bed quickly. By the time I’m able to untangle myself from the sheets, he’s already fully dressed and grabbing his keys.
“At the very least wait for me.” I look around the disaster zone of discarded clothing, unsure of when I stripped out of any of those items since Luke and I have developed a habit of ripping them off each other’s bodies.
He places a hand on my cheek and another on my hip, bringing me close to him. “I’ll be quick. Thirty minutes tops.”
I pout. “It’ll take at least forty unless you plan on ignoring every speed limit in town.”
He ignores my estimate as he carries on. “And after, maybe…” He clears his throat nervously, which suddenly has me on alert. “Maybe after, we can take a drive and I can show you a bit more of the property? I’ve got some ideas I want to run by you.”
“Okay… You looked nervous for a second there. I thought it was something bad.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I swear to God, if you declared your love for me yesterday just to show me your murder shed today, I’m going to be beyond pissed at you, Luke Weston.”
His shoulders relax as his eyes shine with humor. “Daisy, you’re cute.”
“Thank you—”
“But a little bit psycho.”
“What?” My jaw drops.
“It’s endearing. Really. Suits your whole innocent vibe. And it reminds me not to piss you off since your true crime obsession has taught you over a dozen ways to make a body disappear.”
“And don’t you forget it,” I grumble.
He slowly backs up to the front door, arms up with a sly grin on his face. “Be back soon. I’m setting the alarm, so stay inside. I don’t want to worry about you going off looking for my murder shed, tripping over a raised tree root, and ending up with a sprained ankle.”
“That only happened one time. Okay, two times, but I swear that root wasn’t there the last time I checked.”
He steps out but pops his head back in one more time. “Thirty minutes, and then I can properly praise you with warm cookies and an orgasm before we hit the road. How does that sound?”
I cross my arms over my chest as I lift my chin. “Like I’m okay with you breaking the speed limits.”
I’ve pulled my hair into a high bun and finished packing our things, and I’m throwing on my cozy cardigan when I hear the alarm disengage.
I wash my hands and look at the time on my phone, then shake my head. “Really, babe? Thirty minutes? Is a box of cookies really worth getting pulled over for?” I ask as I walk out to meet him.
But I freeze when I get a look at the person standing in front of me.
The stunning woman standing in front of me.
Long wavy blond hair that almost reaches her ass. Sharp makeup that accentuates her pretty hazel eyes, and a smart camel trench coat that’s tightly cinched at the waist and shows off her curves.
Who the hell is she? And how the hell did she know the code to get in here? Or that here even exists?
I love and trust Luke, so I’m trying my hardest not to jump to conclusions. But I’m also the kind of woman who’ll only ever be 99.9 percent sure someone isn’t a serial killer. Therefore, in my mind, there is always a chance something will go wrong.
I should be concerned that she might be a crazy ex. A silent assassin. Someone sent by Damien’s campaign to cut off “loose ends.”
But instead, I’m more concerned by the slight upturn of her lip as she scans me from head to toe and the way it hitches higher with every pass she makes.
Finally, she speaks. “Well, well, well. So this is why he hasn’t been answering my calls.”
“I—Who—”
Tires screech beyond the open front door, followed by a door slamming. Heavy footsteps run up the front porch before Luke’s bursting into the cabin looking none too pleased at our latest arrival.
His chest rises and falls heavily as he seems to try to get his breathing under control.
It’s odd; I’ve witnessed Luke ripping people’s heads off for small infractions on the field, so I would assume he’d be running mad if someone was breaking into his house.
I’m even more surprised when his voice comes out calm, as if he’s trying to make peace with this woman rather than sending her packing. What the fuck is going on?
“I told you not to come inside until I got here. Could you not follow those simple instructions?”
She full-on grins now, and I’m starting to feel like the odd man out.
“Is she—” I stop, not knowing how to organize the mess in my mind.
“Should I go?” I point behind me, as if my home is somewhere in the woods.
A place I would happily run off to if I discover that Luke has a secret hot hookup who apparently decided to stop by.
“Daisy, it’s not like that.” He starts to make his way toward me, stepping into the space between me and her, when she makes a gagging noise.
“Ew. No. Gross!” She moves closer to me and sticks her hand out. “Hi, I’m Valentina. Luke’s sister. And if this place had a decent signal, you would have seen me blowing up his phone. I’m pretty sure I’m listed as the poop emoji in his contacts.” She snickers as I take her hand and slowly shake.
Sister. This is Luke’s sister.
“H-hi. I’m Daisy.”
He’s mentioned her before, but now that I’m meeting her in person, I feel like there’s so much more I should have asked.
As if she can read my mind, she interjects. “Oh, we’re not related by blood—Thank God—because I love showing emotions far too much to respond in monosyllables like this one seems to prefer, and I fear that might be genetic.”
“You know Mom doesn’t like it when we say adoptive. Makes her weepy. Plus your parents always called me mijo,” he grumbles down at her.
She smiles tenderly at that and lifts her fist up sideways. Luke taps it twice with his in a move that tells me they’ve done this thousands of times.
“Now that you’ve bulldozed your way into my home, would you please tell me why you’re here instead of back in the city finishing up your move?”
She waves his comment away. “Moving boxes make for great coffee tables while I wait for my stuff to arrive. And besides, I was over in Burlington shooting a wedding and I needed to check in on you after I heard the news that she—Daisy—didn’t get married.” She loudly whispers the last part.
“Thanks for the breaking news,” he deadpans.
She rolls her eyes, and I think I fall in love with her a little bit right then.
“I’m a smart cookie. I put two and two together after Daisy was nowhere to be found in the tabloids and you were up here avoiding my calls like the plague.
And I was fine with calling to needle you and see if you’d finally told her that you’ve been in lo—”
“Val.” He stops her from continuing.
She pulls her phone out of her purse and unlocks the screen. “Anyway, I would have waited for the chisme when you got back like a good sister. But when I saw this, I knew I had to get up here and show you before you headed back into the city and went full King Kong or something.”
“What is it?” he asks, extending his hand for her phone.
She pushes it toward me instead with a grimace on her face.
“It’s Damien Fischer. He sent out his official statement. It’s a save the date. To your rescheduled wedding. Two weeks from now.”