Chapter 13 #2
“Couldn’t miss her if I tried. She was arguing with some guy about IPA versus stout, just going off about hop varieties and malt profiles. Sexiest thing I’d ever seen.”
Emma chokes on her wine. They must have ordered before we arrived “Sexy? Beer knowledge?”
“Intelligence is sexy,” Luke says simply. “Passion is sexy. Your cousin has both in spades.”
“And what do you do for work?” Trevor asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Security,” Luke replies. “Private protection, asset management, that sort of thing.”
“Like a bodyguard?” Lisa or Laura, I can never tell them apart, asks, staring at him like candy.
“Sometimes. Other times it’s more about securing locations, making sure valuable items get from point A to point B safely. It’s varied work, keeps me on my toes.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Mother observes, that fake concern creeping into her voice.
“Can be. But I’m very good at what I do.” Luke grins. “Plus the danger pays well. Very well. Just bought a place up near the mountains, actually. Six bedrooms, pool, huge land, the works.”
“Six bedrooms?” Aunt Beatrice’s eyes narrow. “That’s quite large for a single man.”
“Well, I’m not planning on staying single.” His arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. “Am I, baby?”
My face burns. “Luke?—”
“And what exactly made her so special?” Mother is watching him closely now. “What drew you to our Cynthia specifically, not just her talking about beer?”
I swallow hard.
“You mean besides the fact that she’s gorgeous?” Luke squeezes my shoulder. “She’s brilliant. Funny. Independent. Doesn’t take shit from anyone… sorry, doesn’t take nonsense from anyone. Called me on my bullshit within five minutes of meeting me.”
“Language, please,” Mother says coolly.
“Right, sorry. I work with a rough crowd sometimes, forget my manners.”
“Are you from around here?” Monica speaks up.
“Born and raised. Never saw much reason to leave. Everything I want is right here.” He glances over at me when he says it, and my stomach does that swooping thing again.
There’s a beat of silence, like they’re all recalibrating, unsure of what to do with the man who’s clearly staking a claim.
“And your parents?” Aunt Beatrice asks. “What do they do?”
I stiffen. They aren’t even pausing with their grilling.
“They died when I was eight. Car accident.”
My heart hurts, as I had no idea either, so I lean in closer to him, whispering, “So sorry.”
“Oh.” Even Aunt Beatrice looks momentarily human. “I’m sorry.”
“Long time ago. Made me who I am, you know? Had to grow up fast, learn to take care of myself.”
I glance at him, something tight and hot blooming behind my ribs to hear his pain. And they’re still not asking me anything.
“So you have no family?” Emma asks, and it sounds like she’s pointing out a deficiency. A lack. Something she’s relieved not to see in her dating pool.
“I’ve got chosen family. Brothers who’d take a bullet for me. And now I’ve got Cynthia.” He presses a kiss to my temple, soft but claiming. “That’s more than enough.”
It should make me melt, and part of me does, but the rest of me is just… aware. Aware that I’m sitting here at a table of people who haven’t asked me a single thing. Not about my job. Not about my life. Not about why I didn’t call.
“How romantic,” Sarah says in a tone that suggests it’s anything but.
I smile tightly, sip my water, and resist the urge to ask if they even remember why I left in the first place. Or if they just needed someone new to judge now that I’ve stopped making it easy for them.
A shadow falls across the table, and I glance up, expecting Arrow. But the figure placing a drink in front of Luke is wearing server attire—black pants, white button-up, and?—
Wait…
A black eye patch. Like a pirate. Like a fucking pirate.
It’s Holt.
My brain stutters. He’s supposed to be in the hospital. Concussion. Rest. That’s what Luke said.
But here he is, very much upright, and apparently working.
“Your usual, sir,” he almost growls, setting down what might be the most ridiculous cocktail I’ve ever seen. It’s bright blue with an umbrella, a sparkler, what looks like dry ice making it smoke, and at least three different fruits garnishing the rim.
Luke doesn’t miss a beat. “Ah, my favorite! Thanks, man. You know me so well.”
Before I can say a word, he kicks the back of Luke’s chair hard enough that Luke jerks forward, catching himself on the table with a grunt.
I blink, still stuck on the damn eye patch. What the hell kind of hospital discharge includes accessorizing like a villain in a Halloween play?
“Oops, sorry, sir. These new shoes are slippery.”
“No problem,” Luke says cheerfully, taking a sip of the monstrosity. “Happens to the best of us.”
Everyone is watching Luke drink this ridiculous cocktail that’s still smoking and sparkling, and he’s playing it completely straight, like this is actually something he orders.
“Interesting choice,” Mother observes.
“I like to live dangerously,” Luke says, pulling out a piece of pineapple and eating it. “Plus, look at this presentation. It’s art.”
I catch Holt’s eye as he’s backing away, and he smirks before disappearing toward the kitchen. My brain is spinning. Holt is here, not the hospital. This is insane.
“Cynthia, you’re being very quiet,” Mother observes. “Don’t you want to tell everyone about your life? Your little job? What have you been doing instead of being with your family?”
I cringe on the inside. “Work as an assistant brewer at a local brewery. I’m learning the trade.”
“Of course you are,” she says in that tone that means How amusing that you think this matters . “But how is that sustainable long-term? Surely you don’t expect Luke to wait around while you chase your little business ventures.”
“I’m not chasing anything,” I say, voice tight. “I’ve built something. It matters.”
“Don’t get defensive, sweetheart. I’m only thinking practically. Luke here seems like a man who knows what he wants. Doesn’t that include family? A more… settled future?”
I open my mouth, ready to fire something back, but Luke gets there first.
“I adore that she’s a career woman,” he says smoothly. “It’s one of the first things that drew me to her. She’s ambitious. Passionate. The kind of person who doesn’t wait around for life to happen. She builds it herself. And I support that completely.”
He looks directly at my mother as he says it, his thumb brushing the back of my hand under the table.
“She’s not playing at anything,” he adds. “She’s doing it. And doing it damn well.”
Mother’s smile tightens, but she doesn’t respond.
Aunt Beatrice sips her wine, clearly disappointed that no one is spiraling yet.
“I think what Cynthia does is incredible,” Luke continues, drawing the spotlight firmly back to me. “Do you know how complex brewing is? It’s chemistry and art combined. She’s been developing this seasonal ale that’s going to put the entire brewery on the map.”
He says it like it’s a fact, like it’s already happening. Like he’s proud of me in a way no one at this table ever has been.
And for once, I let myself breathe in that pride. Let it settle deep.
Mother tilts her head. “That’s quite a sales pitch, Luke. You should consider politics.”
“No need,” he replies easily. “I already got what I wanted.”
“Beer,” Aunt Beatrice says dismissively. “Such a masculine pursuit.”
“Some of the best brewers in the world are women.” I snap the words out before I can soften them.
“Of course they are, dear,” she replies with a tight smile that makes it clear she believes the exact opposite.
Arrow appears then, saving me from saying something I’ll absolutely regret.
“Good evening, everyone. I’m Arrow, owner here at Savor. I wanted to personally welcome you and take any additional drink orders.”
He starts at the far end of the table, but when he gets to Luke, he just says, “Your usual, sir, again?” with a perfectly straight face.
“Already got it, thanks.” Luke raises his ridiculous blue cocktail.
Arrow continues around, and I order wine with a desperate edge that makes him pause.
“Make it a large,” I mutter.
“You bet,” he assures me quietly.
Once he has all the orders, he clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.
“We’ve prepared a special banquet menu for your group tonight.
Seven courses, beginning with an amuse-bouche of butternut squash soup with brown butter and sage, followed by a mixed green salad with pomegranate vinaigrette and candied pecans… ”
He goes through each course with the kind of detail that has even Aunt Beatrice looking impressed. When he finally leaves, Mother immediately reaches for Luke again.
“So tell me, Luke,” she begins. “Working in security must mean odd hours?”
“Sometimes. But I make my own schedule, mostly. Perks of being the boss.”
“You own the company?”
“Co-own with my friend. We started it together.”
Luke slips his hand into mine beneath the table and squeezes.
“And this business of yours,” Mother continues, “it’s successful?”
“Very,” he says without hesitation. “We’ve got contracts all over the state. Just landed a deal with—” He pauses. “Actually, I probably shouldn’t say. Client confidentiality and all that.”
“Of course,” she replies, clearly irritated that she can’t measure him by name-dropping alone.
Luke shifts in his chair slightly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand now. I don’t realize how tight my shoulders have been until they start to ease.
“Cynthia thinks I look hot in a suit too,” he adds casually, flashing me a grin that’s half devilish, half sweet.
I nearly choke on my breath.
“Luke!”
“What?” He shrugs, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You said so. I just like being accurate.”
“Moving on,” I say, louder than necessary, cheeks burning.
Sarah leans forward, all fake innocence. “When was this? While you were getting ready together?”