Chapter 10
Broke
Idon’t sleep well that night. I toss and turn, going through our encounter in my mind over and over again.
Luke’s hands on me. His kiss. The intense, passionate way he fucked me.
I flop onto my back and let out a sigh. I know what happens from here. A guy will chase and chase until he gets what he wants, and then he loses interest.
All that simmering tension comes to a boiling point, and then there’s nothing left for it to do but cool off.
By the time the sun is up, I’m just as tired as if I’d never gone to sleep at all.
But I pad downstairs to let Buster out, to which he woofs gratefully.
Next, I put on a pot of coffee for me and Dad and give Buster a fresh bowl of water.
After that, I start cracking some eggs into a bowl and sprinkling salt and pepper on top.
There’s a yawn behind me. “Morning, honey,” Dad says.
“Morning, Dad.” I give him a side hug as I pop a couple of pieces of toast in the toaster. Buster scratches at the back door, so I let him back in. “Want an egg white omelette?”
“With bacon?” Dad asks hopefully.
Buster’s ears perk up at the word.
“Don’t even think about it. Both of you.” I point the fork at Dad. “Especially not you, with your cholesterol numbers. Don’t tell me Billy’s been sneaking you burgers and fries when I’m not there.”
Dad’s guilty look says it all.
“I can’t eat that rabbit food you make for me every day, Maddie.” At my glare, he adds, “I mean, it’s good. For rabbit food. But I’m a carnivore.” He pats his belly.
I sigh. I adore my father, but he’s stubborn as a goat.
“I need you to take care of yourself,” I say softly. “I need you to plague me til your ripe old age, you hear?”
He ruffles my hair as he passes by to fill up his coffee cup. “Your pop’s a tough son of a bitch, Maddie girl. Like a piece of gristle.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ew.”
Buster, once again, perks up at the word “gristle.” His nose pokes at my thigh hopefully.
Rubbing his head, I shake my head with disgusted affection. “It’s hard being the only girl in a house of stinky old boys, you know that?”
Buster makes a “woof” sound of agreement.
When my phone starts buzzing on the kitchen counter, I assume it’s a scam call. So when I look at the caller ID and see “Luke Brennan,” I’m filled with a mixture of surprise, pleasure, and dread.
Why would he be calling me at eight in the morning?
Under the pretense of letting Buster out again to do his business, I slip out the back door facing the yard.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey.” Luke’s voice sounds deeper than normal. Tired. Like maybe he’s been up all night too. “How are you?”
As Buster digs through the dirt in search of some unknown treasure, I say, “Fine. What’s up?”
“You free to meet up today? We should talk.”
We should talk. The most dreaded words in the human language between two people who just had sex.
I pretend to be cool and unbothered. “Okay. Where do you want to meet?”
“Can you come to my place? I know it’s a long way away for you.”
“It’s fine. Text me the address and I’ll be there soon.”
I wish I could say that driving an hour out of my way to get the break-up speech was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever done for a guy, but sadly it wouldn’t even make the top ten.
As I drive to the address Luke texted me, I can’t help but admire my surroundings at least. Rolling foothills in the foreground, majestic snow-capped mountains in the background.
Winter is turning to spring, and things are just beginning to blossom.
It’s a sunny day, and the air smells fresh and clean.
When my phone navigation prompts me to take a left turn, it’s beneath a wood overhang with a sign proclaiming Sundance Ranch.
Fences stretch for what looks like miles. Cattle graze in some pastures, while horses roam in others. The barns are the first buildings I spot, followed by equipment sheds and a long line of corrals. Everything is big and well-kept and beautiful.
Luke said this place had fallen on hard times, but nothing here looks abandoned or failing. It looks busy. It looks cared for.
When the house finally comes into view, it’s also bigger than I imagined. Big enough to fit half a dozen of my own house inside it, easily.
I slow the car, taking it in, and realize I had the wrong picture of this place entirely.
I thought Luke was struggling, like me.
But this is the kind of ranch that families pass down from generation to generation. And it sure doesn’t look like it’s struggling.
As I pull my Jeep up beside the assemblage of trucks parked outside the house, Luke is already coming out of the front door. A border collie bounds out beside him and greets me with a happy bark as I get out of my car, circling me with energy that suggests she’s powered by nuclear batteries.
Luke is in full cowboy mode today, from the boots to the faded jeans and flannel to the cowboy hat.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him wearing one.
He looks way too damn good.
I stand awkwardly, hands in my pockets. “Hi,” I offer him as he closes the distance between us.
He pulls up short, his eyes flicking down to my hands. I guess my body language is giving defensive vibes, because he doesn’t reach out.
“Hi,” he says quietly. “You look beautiful.”
Did I get all done up to get broken up with? Yep, and not for the first time. Might as well go out a bang, if we’re not going to be banging anymore.
Except Luke’s not giving me that guilty look that guys give you after they fuck you and got what they wanted, so now they can move on.
He’s giving me that same deep, serious look as always.
And it sure seems like he can’t take his eyes off me.
My defenses crumble a little despite myself. Removing my hands from my pockets, I step towards him for a hug.
Immediately, he pulls me into his arms.
His embrace is warm and firm. He smells so good. Feels so good.
As he presses a kiss into my hair, I melt against him even more.
I’ve gotten goodbye kisses before—a literal kiss-off, as it were—but this doesn’t feel like one of those.
As he holds me, his body is relaxing against mine.
Like maybe he needed this hug too.
Like maybe he’s really glad to see me.
None of this is what I expected.
For once, a guy has managed to surprise me—in a good way, no less.
“So what did you want to talk about?” I mumble into his flannel shirt. “Because I gotta tell you, ‘we should talk’ is a very scary pairing of words.”
“Yeah. I get it.” His hand strokes slowly along my back. “Almost as scary as having your girl run off like you did last night.”
Cringing, I pull away to look at him.
But he doesn’t look mad or annoyed. He’s looking at me with patience, waiting for me to explain.
Your girl.
The idea he thinks of me as his girl makes my heart do a little happy dance.
“I might have freaked out a little,” I say slowly.
“I noticed.” His knuckles stroke along my cheekbone. “Why?”
“I thought I’d messed it all up. Our friendship. Our working together.” This next part is harder for me to admit, but I have to do it. I’ve been hurt in these ways before, and it’s done some damage to me.
It feels scary to be so honest about it with Luke.
“I thought,” I say, looking down at my feet, “that maybe you’d lose interest, now that the chase was over. Lose respect for me. Especially after doing it in your truck, of all places.”
“I’d have to lose respect for myself too, in that case.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way for guys.”
He cups my cheek in his hand, making me look into his eyes.
“Let’s get a few things straight, Madison.
We’re still friends. We’re still gonna work together just fine.
There’s no loss of respect—for you or for me,” he adds with a teasing smile.
It fades as he says the next words. “And as far as losing interest…”
He slowly shakes his head. “I thought I was losing my mind before, thinking about how good it would feel to be with you. Turns out my fantasies didn’t even hold a candle to the real thing.
I spent all night replaying it in my head.
What we did, how incredible you felt.” His thumb drags across my lower lip.
“I still can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop thinking about you. ”
It’s pretty much impossible not to kiss a man after he tells you something like that.
I pull him down to me and his lips find mine. The first brush is soft but scorching, and then we’re all in. Tongues tangling together, bodies pressed tight. His hand slides up under the hem of my shirt, fingertips skimming my waist, sending a full-body rush of pleasure racing through me.
“There’s something else I needed to talk to you about,” he says when we finally pull up for air again. “Don’t freak out, but—”
My body goes tense. “That’s another scary word combo. As soon as you say it, I start freaking out.”
His hand are still resting on my waist. They tighten a little as he says, very calmly, “The condom broke.”