Chapter Three
Helping A Sort-of Friend Out
A bigail
Watching my huge and insanely attractive neighbor put together furniture for the entire day before taking a seat at my kitchen counter and enjoying a beer has me smiling the entire time. He is funny and sarcastic, giving me shit the whole time about nothing in particular.
I have caught him staring at my legs several times throughout the day and I have to say I am not hating it. It makes me feel desirable, which I haven’t felt in ages. I usually just feel like I’m a breath away from falling apart.
“The pizza should be here in a minute,” I say as he finishes half his beer in a couple of gulps. When did watching a man drink beer become a sexy thing? It must be the sexual deprivation. I haven’t been with anyone except my vibrator since before the divorce. “I’m just going to put Tyler down, but there is money on the bookshelf for the food. You know, the one you assembled with your fancy tools.”
“Damn right, I built that shelf.” He puffs out his chest in what I assume is fake self-importance and I laugh. Luke doesn’t strike me as the type of man to toot his own horn. He seems much humbler.
After putting my son in his crib, I join Luke in the kitchen where he already has one of the pizzas open and is putting two pieces on a plate he hands to me.
“Thank you.”
It’s strange, sitting here eating dinner with a virtual stranger and feeling more content than I have in the past year. Actually, it is probably far longer than that. My marriage was strained and uncomfortable long before I caught my husband cheating.
I don’t know this man, but I do know he is easy to be around. And I am insanely attracted to him, not that I will be acting on any of the dirty thoughts running through my mind. I am a mother now and I can’t just throw caution to the wind.
“Tell me,” he says after finishing his first slice of pizza. “Where is Tyler’s father?”
“Why?” The word comes out more defensively than I intended.
He chuckles. “Relax, Abbi. I just want to make sure some dude isn’t going to take a tire iron to my truck when he finds out I spent half the day assembling his woman’s furniture.”
I watch him carefully, looking for any indication that he is being dishonest. Not that I would be able to tell. I’m shit at picking up on people who are actively screwing me over if my history is anything to go by. Everyone knew Darren was a cheating dickhead and kept it from me, even people I thought were my friends.
“He isn’t in the picture,” I say, trying to decide what exactly I want to say. “Darren and I have been divorced a little over nine months.”
“Nine months?” he asks in shock. “How old is Tyler?”
“Three months tomorrow,” I say with a shrug, stuffing more pizza into my mouth, hoping he’ll let it go.
“What a prick.”
He looks angry. What a strange reaction. I think of all the friends I shared with my husband, people I loved like family, who simply pushed me aside when we got divorced. Everyone blamed me for the demise of my marriage. All those that lied to me and helped him hide his affairs. And yet, this man who has only seen me twice automatically takes my side.
“Why would you assume he was at fault?” I ask, curious about his thought process.
“I can’t think of a single thing that would make a married woman want to be a single pregnant woman, or a single mother for that matter.”
“What if I cheated?” I didn’t do a damn thing wrong but I want to know what he is thinking.
“Did you?” He raises a brow as he continues to watch me.
“No!” I’m immediately defensive.
He shrugs. “I already knew that,” he says. “I’m pretty good at reading people.”
“Tell me then. What do you see?” I want to know. For some reason, which I don’t understand, his opinion of me feels like something important.
He studies me for a moment before answering. “I see a woman who is overwhelmed by the circumstances she has found herself in. I see someone who wants to laugh and live but doesn’t, out of fear of being hurt again. I see a mother who loves her child. I see a fighter, a survivor, a damn strong woman.”
I feel tears gather in my eyes. It’s been a long time since someone said anything nice to me.
“That’s a lot to see in only two encounters,” I joke, trying to break the tension.
“I’m observant like that.”
Laughter bubbles out of me at his serious expression.
“So, what do you do for a living?” Luke asks, steering the conversation to something lighter.
“I’m a veterinarian. I used to have a practice in the city.” I love animals. And I really have missed working with them. I can’t wait to get back to work.
“And now?” He leans forward, completely focused on me.
“Now ... I need to start over. Find a premises and build a new client base.”
He chuckles. “My best friend is going to be stoked about this. He always has to take Tyson to the city if anything happens.”
“Tyson?” I ask, leaning forward as well.
“My friend, Alistair, has a rescue pit bull he loves like a child, and he has been slowly but surely adding to his ever-growing brood. He can’t leave a stray or a rescue alone to save his life. My sister doesn’t help matters. She keeps adopting animals and taking them to his house because she can’t have them in the apartment.”
More laughter shakes my frame as I listen to this man describe his friend. They sound more like brothers than friends.
“I’m an only child,” I say sadly. “I wish I had that kind of closeness to anyone.”
“I love my sister, but you can have her if you want. But I do have a ‘no refunds, no returns’ policy.”
“Oh my God,” I say, slapping his shoulder as I move around him to drop the plates in the dishwasher. “You can’t just give your sibling away.”
“I know.” He sighs. “It hasn’t ever worked, no matter how hard I’ve tried.”
Bending over to load the dishwasher, I hear a muttered curse behind me. Glancing at Luke, I find his gaze fixed firmly on my ass while he adjusts his hard-on. Well, shit. I didn’t even know I could still have this effect on a man. Since giving birth, I haven’t loved my body as much as I once did. His reaction is a massive ego boost.
I finish my task with a smile, feeling good about myself for the first time in over a year. Lust flows through my veins. Luke is everything I avoided in men my entire life. He’s too wild, too different from me and the life I want for myself. He is dangerous and free where I am cautious and staid. We would never work, but I honestly can’t think of a single damn reason not to climb the man like a tree.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask, leaning against the counter.
“I own the tattoo parlor in town with my two best friends.”
“I’ve always wanted to get something done,” I say with a shrug. “But it’s so permanent. What if I don’t like it?”
He smiles with a shake of his head. “Tattoos are very personal. You need the right artist to bring your vision to life. I’d be happy to work with you if you ever decide to get some ink.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of his big hands on my skin while he marks me permanently. Why the hell is that thought so hot?