5. Five
Five
Lila
“Try it now,” Luke calls from under Agatha’s hood. He’s been working on my car all morning, his strong hands moving confidently among the engine parts. I’ve been trying not to stare at how his tattooed muscles flex when he reaches for tools or how his t-shirt rides up, exposing a strip of firm, tanned skin.
I turn the key, and for the first time since I’ve had her, Agatha starts without a single complaint. The engine purrs smoothly—no rattles, no worrying clicks.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, stepping out to join Luke at the hood. “What did you do? ”
He wipes his hands on a rag, looking pleased with himself. “Just showed her some attention. I replaced the spark plugs, adjusted the timing belt, and fixed the loose connection causing the rattle.” His grin is boyish and proud. “Want to hear the best part? Turn her off.”
I do, and instead of her usual protesting shudder, Agatha powers down quietly.
“Luke!” I squeal, climbing out of the car, and without thinking, I throw my arms around him. “You’re amazing!”
He laughs, his hands settling naturally on my waist, and suddenly, I’m very aware of how close we are. His chest is solid against mine, and he smells like motor oil, sweaty male, and… Luke.
I step back quickly, my cheeks burning.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I got excited.”
“Don’t apologize.” His voice is a little rough. “But you know what this means, right?”
I eye him suspiciously. “What?”
“Now that she’s running properly, we should clean her up.” He gestures to both our cars parked in the shared driveway. “My Jeep could use a wash too.”
This is how I end up in my driveway on a sunny Saturday afternoon, armed with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge. Luke’s got his own bucket, and he’s already started on his Jeep, which honestly doesn’t look all that dirty to me.
“You’re doing great,” Luke calls from the other side of Agatha, his voice laced with amusement.
“You’re not even watching,” I shoot back, scrubbing the passenger door. “For all you know, I’m doing a terrible job.”
“I’d know,” he says, stepping around the car. He leans against the hood, crossing his arms as he surveys my work. “Not bad, actually. You missed a spot, though.”
“Where?” I ask, frowning.
“There,” he says, pointing to a completely clean section of the car.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re messing with me.”
“Maybe a little,” he admits, his grin widening.
Rolling my eyes, I splash my sponge back into the bucket and keep scrubbing. The sun is high overhead now, warming my skin and making the soapy water glisten on Agatha’s newly scrubbed exterior .
He softly whistles as he works, and I try not to notice how good he looks with his shirt damp from the occasional spray of the hose.
Focus, Lila.
I finish washing the last spot on Agatha and stand back, admiring my work. “Done!” I call out, brushing a stray curl out of my face.
Luke glances over, raising an eyebrow. “Not bad. But you’ve got soap in your hair.”
“What?” I reach up with wet, soapy hands but find nothing.
“Just kidding.” He laughs. “Or I was, now you really do have soap in your hair.”
“Where?” I lean over to check out my image in the side mirror and suddenly feel cold water hitting my back. I spin around to find Luke grinning with the garden hose in his hand. “You didn’t!”
“Oops?” But his innocent expression is ruined by the unrepentant glint in his eyes.
“Oh, it’s on.” I dip my sponge in the bucket and fling it at him, water arcing through the air. It hits him square in the chest, darkening his gray t- shirt.
“Now you’re asking for it,” he growls playfully, advancing with the hose.
I shriek and dodge, but he’s quicker. Water sprays everywhere as we chase each other around the cars. I manage to get him with another sponge full of suds, and he retaliates by catching me around the waist with one arm while wielding the hose with the other.
“Surrender!” he demands, laughing as I squirm. He shakes his head, sending cold water raining down on me.
“Never!” I grab for the hose, but he lifts it higher, using his vast height advantage.
Finally, able to grab the hose away from him, I turn, sending a stream of water straight at him. Luke yelps, jumping back, but it’s too late—his shirt is soaked now, too, clinging to his chest in a way that makes me immediately regret my decision.
“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” he says, laughing and lunging for the hose again.
“You started it!” I say in defense, laughing just as hard.
We struggle for control, still amused, until I slip on the wet concrete. Luke catches me before I fall, but the sudden movement throws us off balance. We end up against Agatha’s side, my back pressed to the old car, Luke’s body heavily pinning me there.
The laughter dies in my throat as I realize our position. We’re both breathing hard, clothes soaked through. Water drips from his hair onto my face and his eyes—God, his eyes are so blue when we’re this close.
I’m suddenly painfully aware of my white t-shirt, now completely transparent and clinging to every generous curve, my nipples hard as they rub against the wet fabric. Luke’s gaze drops for just a second, then snaps back to my face, his pupils dilating slightly.
“Lila,” he says, voice rough. His hand is still on my waist, burning through the wet fabric.
A car horn blares from a distant street, making us both jump. Luke steps back quickly, running a hand through his wet hair.
“We should, uh...” He clears his throat. “We should probably finish washing the cars.”
“Right,” I say, my voice higher than usual. “The cars.”
We work in silence for a few minutes, carefully maintaining distance between us. I’m hyperaware of my wet clothes, crossing my arms over my chest when I catch Luke sneaking glances at me.
What am I doing? He has a girlfriend—who probably never gets into water fights or wears see-through t-shirts. The thought is like a bucket of cold water on my heated skin.
“I should go change,” I say abruptly, setting down my sponge.
“Lila—“ He starts to reach for me, then seems to think better of it.
“Thanks for fixing Agatha,” I say quickly, already backing toward my door. “I’ll, um, I’ll make dinner later to pay you back.”
I don’t wait for his response, escaping into my house. I watch him stand there for a long moment through the window, still dripping wet, before he turns back to the cars.
My heart is racing, and not just from our water fight. The way he’d looked at me, his body pressed against mine—No. No, I can’t think about that. Luke is my friend, my next-door neighbor, and he’s taken—end of story.
But as I peel off my wet clothes, I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my waist, and I wonder how long I can keep pretending I don’t want more .
I planned a thank you dinner for the Wild Band, and tonight is the night all of them were free. Well, everyone but Cass and his family. By seven, my kitchen is filled with the aroma of a slow-roasted pot roast, Emily’s insider tip about Luke’s favorite comfort food paying off. The potatoes are perfectly creamy, the carrots glazed with honey, and the homemade rolls are just coming out of the oven when the doorbell rings.
“Something smells amazing,” Nate says as I let them in. Vince follows, carrying a six-pack of craft beer. Emily, Sam, and the baby arrive next.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” I say, grateful for their presence. After this afternoon’s incident, I needed witnesses to keep things friendly.
Luke arrives last, freshly showered and wearing a black button-down that makes his eyes look impossibly blue. Our gazes briefly meet before I busy myself with serving.
“Something sure smells good,” Vince declares, taking a seat. “I knew you could cook, but damn.”
“Wait till you taste it,” Luke says, and something in his voice makes me blush .
Dinner is a lively affair. The guys trade stories about their early days, and Emily and I laugh at the tales of misadventures and near-disasters on their first tour.
“Remember when Luke tried to crowd surf at that club in Tampa?” Nate grins. “And everyone just... moved?”
“I still have bruises from that,” Luke groans good-naturedly. “In my defense, I thought the crowd was paying attention.”
“They were too busy watching Cass,” Vince says. “Or those of us playing the guitar. No one notices the keyboard player.”
“Hey, some of us notice,” I say without thinking. When they all look at me, I add quickly, “I mean, the keyboard parts were always my favorite. In your songs.”
Luke’s eyes meet mine across the table, intense enough to make my breath catch. I quickly look away.
“What about us drummers? Nobody notices us either,” Nate points out quietly.
“Why should they, when they’ve got me to look at?” Vince jokes arrogantly.
Everyone groans and Luke asks for seconds. I smile, feeling the food is a hit. Sam makes a dramatic show of declaring the pot roast ‘the best thing I’ve ever eaten,’ and Emily asks for the recipe. Even Presley wakes up in time to enjoy a little mashed potato, earning delighted laughs when she smears it across her face.
The meal is everything I hoped it would be—light, fun, and filled with the kind of energy that makes being with friends fun.
When it’s time for dessert, I pull out the apple pie I’d baked earlier.
“This is so good,” Vince says after his first bite of pie. “Luke, if you don’t start dating this girl, I will.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. Luke’s knuckles go white around his fork.
“And on that note,” Nate says, standing, “we should probably all head out.”
Luke stands, recovering. They bicker, good-naturedly, as everyone gathers their things. I hug them goodbye and thank them for coming.
“Thanks for dinner,” Emily quietly says as she hugs me. “And for making Luke smile like that again.”
Before I can ask what she means, they’re gone, leaving Luke and me alone in my suddenly quiet kitchen .
“That was fun,” I say, moving to wrap up the leftover pie.
“It was.” Luke steps closer, and I can feel the heat of him behind me.
“Glad you liked it,” I say, glancing at him. “You deserved a good meal after fixing Agatha.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“Sure, I did,” I say, smiling. “It was the least I could do.”
The silence stretches, and I realize he’s still watching me. His gaze is steady, warm, and just a little too intense for comfort.
“Thanks. Not just for dinner, but for asking about my favorite food.”
I turn around, intending to make a joke about Emily’s loose lips, but the words die in my throat. He’s so close, looking at me with an intensity that weakens my knees.
“Lila,” he says softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face. His fingers linger on my cheek, and I find myself leaning into his touch without meaning to .
He bends down slowly, giving me time to pull away. I know I should. That this is wrong, and I’m setting myself up for heartbreak.
But his lips are inches from mine, and I can feel his breath on my face, and—
The sharp ring of his phone makes us both jump. Crystal’s name flashes on the screen.
Reality crashes back like a harsh wave. I step back quickly, putting the kitchen island between us.
“You should get that,” I say, proud that my voice only shakes a little.
He looks at the phone, then at me, conflict clear on his face. “Lila—“
“It’s fine.” I force a smile. “Really. Thank you again for fixing Agatha.”
He answers the phone reluctantly, still watching me. “Hey, Crystal... Yeah, I’m just leaving Lila’s. The band had dinner...”
I turn away, unable to watch as he talks to her. My hands shake slightly as I finish wrapping the pie.
After hanging up, he says, “I should go. Crystal’s father is having some kind of emergency meeting.”
“Of course.” I keep my voice light and casual. “You should leave.”
Luke freezes, his expression unreadable. I think he might object for a second, but then he nods, stepping back. “Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “You’re right.”
The air between us is thick, with everything unsaid, and I feel like I’ve just escaped something dangerous and intoxicating all at once.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I say, forcing a lightness I don’t feel.
“Yeah,” he says again, offering me a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Tomorrow.”
After he leaves, I sink onto my couch, pressing my hands to my burning cheeks. I almost forgot about Crystal—his gorgeous, successful—thin girlfriend.
One thing’s clear: I need stronger boundaries. I can’t trust myself around him, not when my heart races whenever he looks at me.
I can still feel the touch of his fingers on my cheek and see how he looked at me right before Crystal called.
Yep. Stronger boundaries. Starting first thing tomorrow.