19. Daphne
19
DAPHNE
T uesday starts off hectic and only gets worse. I barely see Luke when he comes to get the proposal because I’m on the phone with the feds about paperwork from Cavendish Enterprises. It’s my dad who walks through the details with him and sends him on his way.
I’m still on the phone when Luke leaves.
The day drags out, filled with cross-checks on documents for the feds. I talk to the human resources coordinator at Cavendish Enterprises several times, checking dates and details that are somehow different between various forms. We’re getting it all sorted when she asks me to hold.
A moment later, she’s back. “If we’re done, Daphne, there’s someone who’d like to talk to you.”
“I think we are,” I say, curious.
“Mike Cavendish here, Daphne.” He sounds embarrassed, which is odd.
“Hi Mike. Is there a problem?”
“No, no, not that. I was, um, wondering how things worked out in Havelock yesterday.”
I sit back, intrigued. “You mean with Luke?”
“Yes. That is exactly the situation I mean.”
How strange that he’s being obscure. “Is someone listening?”
“Absolutely,” he says heartily. “I’m glad you don’t mind me checking on this.”
“All’s well that ends well,” I say. “Since Patrick didn’t want to press charges.”
Mike coughs and puts a hand over the receiver. “Be right there!” he calls cheerfully to someone, then lowers his voice. “I didn’t pass the message along,” he confides. “I thought someone was due for a break.”
I spin a little in my chair. Curiouser and curiouser. The Cavendish boys are breaking rank with Patrick. Not a lot, but I never expected them to do that at all. “You sound like Jake.”
“Yeah, well, we had a talk over the weekend. No time like the present to make a change.”
“Patrick will find out.”
“Not in time to influence the result, clearly.”
I smile a little. “Is this a secret?”
“Probably smarter for it to be,” Mike agrees and I think I can hear a smile in his voice. “Thanks for all you’ve done, Daphne.”
“I didn’t do it for Cavendish Enterprises.”
“I know. It’s time someone had other interests in mind.” There’s a shout and he excuses himself, leaving me with something to think about.
I don’t have long to consider it because my phone gets a text.
From Rafe.
OMG! May 15
This is followed by an entire line of emojis, conveying great excitement.
What on earth is he talking about?
I call him and he answers right away
“I’m coming,” he says with heat. “You can’t stop me.”
“Bit of an intimate conversation opener, don’t you think? Maybe too much information?”
“Daphne!” Rafe chortles. (He actually chortles.) “The Carpe Diem Café opens on the 15 th for dinner. I have to be there. I have to have a table. You have to make us a reservation.”
“Can’t you do it?” I’m not Rafe’s secretary or anyone else’s, thank you very much.
“Of course, I can, but you have to go over there. You have to get the best table. I don’t know the layout of the place. I want to see the kitchen. I want to watch her.”
“Should I tell Merrie that she has a stalker?”
“I’m not a stalker. I’m a fan .”
I have to razz him, just a little. “So, this isn’t a date?” I pretend to sound disappointed. “You aren’t coming to see me?”
“God, no. You were just here.”
I laugh. “Thank you for that.”
“Ask somebody else to join us if you feel compelled to matchmake. I don’t care. I’ll be eating.”
I spin in my chair considering who I might fix up with Rafe. He’s not bad, even though he’s not my type, and some women might love how much money he has. Cameron would definitely take him home. Mackenzie? Tough to say. Willow would despise him on sight. “Speak to me of your plans for the evening,” I say.
“Dinner and then dessert.”
“In terms of the company.”
“Conversation optional. Shared plates imperative. Eye candy is always welcome, which is why you’re invited.”
“Sport sex?”
“You are not offering.”
“I am not offering. But I’ll choose which of my friends should join us based on your reply.”
“How can I say yes or no with no more information than that?”
“A scale then. Ten is absolutely. Zero is no chance.”
“Six,” he says with resolve. “Because it depends and even though I might be distracted, I am not dead. Am I allowed to state a preference for blondes?”
“Are you going to be a gentleman?”
He laughs. “Always, Daphne. Always.”
He is. I’ll ask Mackenzie.
“Meet you there. Six?”
“Six,” he agrees.
“And you’re paying, Rafe.”
He heaves a great sigh. “Oh, don’t I always?”
Then we laugh together. “How did you find out anyway?”
“She’s got a website and shared an interview. Honestly, Daphne, I’m salivating already. Whoa. I’ve got to go.”
And he’s gone, dispensing justice to someone somewhere. I follow the breadcrumbs from an online search to Merrie’s new website, from there to The Empire Chronicle’s site—which I’ve never heard of before now—which has posted a pair of audio interviews. One with Luke and one with Merrie.
Go ahead. Guess which one I listen to first.
Girls’ night is at Cameron’s this week, which means an evening of pampering. We bring everything for manicures and pedicures, facial masks and scrubs. We wear our fluffy robes and light candles and dance around her living room to the oldies. It’s so much fun.
There’s no question of my missing it, even though I dread the inevitable interrogation.
Maybe there won’t be one. Maybe they’ll read the truth on my face.
“So, are you doing him yet?” Cameron asks when she opens the door to me and I wait just a minute to let her look. Clearly, she expects me to say no.
“I did,” I say mildly and step past her into the house. She gasps and nearly drops her bottle of nail polish. Mackenzie makes the save, then they both stare at me. Since Mackenzie is wearing a facial mask, she looks particularly alarmed.
“No,” she says.
“Oh, yes,” I repeat.
“Told you!” Willow calls from the kitchen as Cameron demands details.
I tell them a bit but not a lot, because I’m still hugging it all close. I don’t know what the future holds for Luke and me.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” Cameron says.
“You’re always having what she’s having,” Mackenzie notes.
“I think Daphne is having doubts,” Willow says and they all look at me.
“Why?” Cameron demands. “It sounds great.”
“He says all the right things…”
“But she doesn’t know whether to believe him,” Willow says, finishing up my sentence.
“Do you have to believe him?” Cameron asks and I blink. “Just go with it. Enjoy them the way they enjoy us.”
“Absolutely,” Mackenzie says with approval.
“You don’t have to expect everything in exchange for some satisfaction,” Cameron insists.
“You’re shameless,” I say to her, not really outraged at all.
“And my stress level is nonexistent. Try it. You might like it.”
I change the subject by asking Mackenzie about meeting me and Rafe for dinner, which means I have to tell them about Rafe—and Cameron wants to call in sick to work so she can check him out. I look for pictures of him on my phone—there has to be at least one—then we all confer about Willow’s hair. She likes Sierra’s hair and wants to do something similar. She’s brought a selection of hair colour products and Cameron makes a plan.
Willow’s hair comes out amazing, but that’s the power of teamwork.
Much later, I walk home across the lawn in my sandals, admiring the glimmer of my freshly painted nails against the darkness of the grass. It feels like it might rain and the skies are overcast, but for the moment, it’s dry enough. I’ve just worn my big fluffy bathrobe home, and my face feels all tingly from the facial mask. I’m relaxed and there’s only one thing lacking in my world. I’m ready for a little carpe diem .
I see a shadow move on my porch and my heart leaps, because there he is.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” Luke replies in a soft drawl. “Love the look.”
I laugh and take the seat beside him. I study him in the shadows and see uncertainty lurking in his eyes. Has he come to tell me bad news? If so, let’s have it. Diving in is officially my new philosophy.
“I thought you’d be with Sylvia,” I say and his surprise shows.
“Why? There’s nothing between us, Daph. I just want to do right by Sierra.”
“I haven’t seen much of you this week. I thought that was why.”
“No.” He’s emphatic. “I don’t want to offer you damaged goods. I want to get this sorted first.” His gaze bores into mine. “You’re the principled idealist, remember? I’m the one who breaks all the rules. And I don’t know if Sierra is a dealbreaker for you.”
“It’s complicated,” I cede, sitting back. I can feel the tension emanating from him, and I’m relieved that he’s so worried about the halo effect of his actions. “I wasn’t thrilled when you seemed to be a deadbeat dad, but you aren’t.” I meet his gaze. “And I admire how you’re stepping up. Not many people would do that.”
His smile dawns slowly, lifting one corner of his mouth and then the other before it lights his eyes. “I thought you might smite me dead,” he murmurs and I can’t help but smile.
“There’s still time.”
Luke laughs. It’s rare for him to laugh so long and so loud and I end up staring at him, smiling. “You should do that more,” I say and he grins.
“But if I told you to smile more, you would smite me.”
I have to cede that. Our gazes lock for one of those electric moments and I smile right into his eyes, a veritable welcome mat. He takes the hint and places his arm around my shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle me beneath my ear. He sighs contentment. “You smell good, Daph.”
“So do you. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“I was missing you.” He presses a kiss to the top of my shoulder and I don’t care which parts of me he was missing. If he’s just here for sex, that’s fine by me. I’m going to make the most of his presence, for as long as it lasts. Those lashes sweep up and his gaze bores into mine. “But I’ll go, if you’d rather.”
I love that he gives me the choice.
“I was missing you, too,” I admit, watching his eyes light.
His gaze clings to mine. “Huge relief.”
“I’m not that scary.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Luke replies in the low growl that makes me flutter.
I don’t understand how it can be both reassuring and thrilling to sit with him like this in the shadows, but I’ll go with it.
“You could have texted me, Daph.”
“Sex on demand?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Not what you want?”
“Not all that I want.” We eye each other and then he kisses me, one of those smouldering slow ones that could start a conflagration. It certainly sets a fire in me.
He’s the one who pulls back and clears his throat. “Have dinner with me?” he asks finally.
“Oh. Boo. Just dinner?” I feign a pout.
Luke chuckles. “Daph, I’m trying to be a gentleman and court you…”
“Court me?” I sit up to look at him, assuming he’s joking. He looks completely serious. “How nineteenth century of you.”
“Court you,” he repeats with resolve. “I want more than a hook-up and I want you to know that it’s about more than sex. I didn’t make that clear by jumping right in, so we’ll start over.”
“I want more, too,” I admit and hear him catch his breath. “How are we starting over?
“With a dinner date. Friday night, if you’re free.”
I’m surprised and pleased by this. I like that he’s not taking me—or sex with me—for granted, and I can tell by his manner that this is important to him.
I have no objections to courtship, it turns out. “Okay.”
“I know just the place. You can’t wear a skirt.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m driving.” I realize he means we’re going on his bike, and that doubles up my anticipation. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
“What if it rains?”
“Then we’ll get wet. Suit up appropriately. Such are the limitations of motorcycles.”
I don’t tell him that Cameron calls them ‘donorcycles’. He’s probably heard the term before. “I could drive if it rains.”
“Live a little, Daph. Ever been on a bike?”
“No.”
“Trust me then. It’s good, even in the rain.”
I smile. “Okay. See you then.”
He leans closer, his arm tightening around me. “I do like the look,” he murmurs, his gaze roving over me before he bends closer and gives me a kiss. I can tell it’s supposed to be a quick sweet one—a courtship kiss, maybe—but I have an opinion about that, too. I lean into it and deepen the kiss, tangling my fingers in his hair to pull him closer. He makes a little groan of capitulation and pulls me closer, our tongues tangling as the temperature rises on the porch.
Luke pulls away with obvious reluctance, his eyes dark. “You’re not playing fair, Daph,” he says with quiet heat and I smile.
“It is my diabolical plan to get you naked again,” I admit.
He gives a mock roar and swings me up in his arms, kissing me once more before he puts me on my feet in front of my own door. “Friday. Six,” he says, as if I could ever forget, and then he jumps off the porch and strides into the darkness. He’s moving with purpose, as if he knows he won’t go if he lingers any longer, and I watch with a smile.
It’s so good to know that I’m not the only one in lust.
I can’t wait for Friday.
Funny how time can pass both quickly and with excruciating slowness when you’re looking forward to something. I see Luke coming and going on Thursday. There’s a constant stream of tradespeople at the café, and Willow must be working there full-time.
Friday morning, my dad and I have our routine breakfast meeting. They have a quiche special at Eggs-traordinary so I go for that, reasoning that I’ll skip lunch.
My dad has been quiet but once we’ve ordered, he slides an envelope across the table to me. I must look wary, because he smiles. “Go on. Open it.”
“What’s this?” I ask as I flip it open. There’s a copy of a property title inside and I feel my eyes narrow as I read the address—on Queen Street in Empire.
“Me being reminded of a basic truth,” he says, stirring his coffee then taking a sip.
I’m counting buildings and trying to identify the address. “Is this the Foreman building?”
My dad nods. “Last Thursday night, I noticed your young man waiting for you on your porch and spoke to him.”
“He’s not my young man, Dad.”
It seems like such an old-fashioned way to refer to Luke that I have to protest.
On the other hand, I can’t say to my dad that Luke’s my lover. Not out loud.
Even though he knows.
Dad raises a hand and continues. “Whether he is or not, he knows something more about you than I did. Or maybe he just understands you better.”
“Luke?”
“I asked him why he’d included that property in his list for Patrick.”
“So Patrick would have something easy to eliminate.”
My dad shakes his head, taking another package of sugar. He’s trying to cut back, but it’s a battle he loses with his first coffee. “Luke planned to give that property to you.”
I blink.
“He has this idea that there’s merit in giving someone what they most desire, or the opportunity they want most, rather than just paying them in cash. He wanted to give you the opportunity which he believed you must want.” My dad meets my gaze. “That is, to set up a practice on your own.”
“We talk about this all the time,” I remind him, my heart in my throat, and he nods, his expression a little rueful.
“We do, but I haven’t really listened to you. I was sure that I knew best, that it would be the smartest choice for you to learn my business and eventually inherit it.” My dad empties that package of sugar into his coffee and stirs it again. He nods approval when he tastes it this time, then he looks at me again. “I was reminded that you are a clever and ambitious woman, and that the weakness of my plan was your inevitable boredom. Luke reminded me that smart people need challenges and purpose, and that paperwork for Cavendish Enterprises was unlikely to offer that kind of fulfillment.”
“He did?”
“He did.” My father takes a long drink of his coffee. “And I was disinclined to agree with him, at least before I arrived on Friday morning and realized that Luke Jones perhaps knew more about my daughter than I’d guessed.” His eyes are sparkling and I’m mortified. “I went to see Patrick that morning, instead of coming here for breakfast, and he agreed to sell me that property.”
“Because he thought you were right?” I realize that it wouldn’t have mattered if Mike told Patrick about Luke breaking into the house, since by then, Patrick didn’t own it.
I look down. I did, though only my dad knew as much at the time. Patrick thought my dad owned it.
My dad shrugs. “I think he was looking forward to Luke returning to him to ask for it again, and being able to say that he no longer owned it.” He becomes serious. “Patrick is not an easy client, but he’s a good one. He generates a lot of revenue and he pays his bills on time. It’s not always easy to remember which side my bread is buttered on, but overall, ours has been a profitable relationship.”
I caress the envelope. “I thought women only needed husbands.”
My dad chuckles. “Maybe in Patrick’s world.”
“What about Margaret’s house? Luke wanted that for Abbie.”
My dad frowns. “That will be a more difficult achievement. This property was disposable to Patrick. He doesn’t care about it either way. But Margaret’s house is very important to him, as he grew up there himself.”
“Why wouldn’t he want someone living there, then, someone like Abbie?”
Our meals come and we fall silent for a moment, waiting for the waitress to leave again. “The thing you must understand about Patrick is that he loves control. He wants everyone to defer to him about everything. For me, that’s comparatively easy. I just call him about every decision, no matter how small, and this makes him happy. For his kids, that’s tougher. Of course, they want some autonomy. Of course, they might wish for a few crumbs to fall from his table. I think he wants them to ask, or even to beg.”
“I think Abbie knows that.”
“Which might be why she never came back. But the very fact that she didn’t come back means that he sees her as beyond his control. He doesn’t suffer that circumstance well, so he won’t be generous to her. She would have to come back and defer to him.”
“And even then, it might not matter,” I conclude. I can’t see Abbie doing that, either way.
“Exactly. I’ll try to nudge him on that, but I can’t make any promises, Daphne.”
“Bread and butter,” I say with a smile and he smiles back.
He taps the envelope with a fingertip. “I didn’t realize how much of Patrick’s view I’d taken onboard, not until Luke challenged me. I’m sorry, Daphne. Of all people, I should have recognized that you needed more than I was offering.”
I grip his hand and thank him and he beams at me. My throat is tight with relief and excitement, and the awareness that Luke has provoked a change in my life that I won’t soon forget.
I want to tell Luke but there’s no chance. I get back to another lot of questions from the feds and I work though lunch to get it sorted. I see him drive off in Merrie’s Jeep in the afternoon but don’t see him come back.
I know he’ll be on time, though. I leave the office early so that I can have a shower and change before six. I’m jumpy with excitement and anticipation.
I arrive home to find Sylvia on my porch. She has a stubborn look about her, as if she’ll wait through the end of time to have her say.
“What’s up?” I ask, fingering my keys as I stand on the steps. I have very mixed feelings about her seeking me out. I don’t want to think about her and Luke together, even sixteen years ago. I don’t really want to think about the complications that are likely to ensue. I want my date night, plain and simple.
“What do you know about it?” Sylvia asks.
“Luke said he seduced you and you left town.” I shrug.
Sylvia smiles and looks across the lawn. “Did he tell you he was drunk?”
“He implied that he might have been. Something about J?germeister.”
“Lots of it,” Sylvia said. She pats the bench beside herself, her manner so inviting that I have a better feeling about the whole thing. I sit beside her, putting my bag on the porch. I’m expecting her to tell me something I don’t know but she still astonishes me. “I was pregnant before that night with Luke.”
“What?”
Sylvia nods. “I knew it. Mike and I had been fighting a lot. I wanted –” she sighs “–I wanted him to propose even before I told him. I wanted him to want to marry me without knowing about the baby.” She gives me a look. “Our baby.”
M.C. = Mike Cavendish. I feel stupid for missing it.
Sierra isn’t Luke’s daughter.
I’m glad to be sitting down, given the power of my relief.
“We had just fought again when I saw Luke that night. Mike made some comment about Luke being unworthy of being a Cavendish or similar crap. I was already mad at him so I left. And I approached Luke because I was angry, and I went with him, just to be anywhere else. We went to the Foreman place. It was empty and I guess someone was using it to keep a stash of booze. He found the J?ger there, a new bottle. I knew better than to mess with that stuff. It’s fierce.”
I watch her, thinking how weird it is that I own this building now.
Sylvia sighs. “You have to know that I went with Luke because I felt safe with him, and that never changed. He never came on to me, not at all. That’s why when he passed out, I couldn’t leave him there. I managed to get him walking and took him home to Una, because I knew she’d know what to do. He barely made it to the house, but Una made him drink a lot of water then tucked him in on the porch. I went to bed. Alone. Not exactly the prom night of my dreams.” She frowns and I touch her hand.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. But the worst part was that Mike came around in the morning. He was disappointed that I never showed up at the prom, even though I was supposed to be his date. I was mad that he didn’t miss me enough to even look for me. He came looking for a fight and he found one. We both said a lot of things.” She swallows and looks away, clearly remembering every word.
“There was a lot of resentment between the brothers,” I say, wanting to mitigate this for her.
Sylvia shakes her head. “I know, but that argument helped me decide to leave. I had no idea how hard it would be, but once it was done, it was done. I went to my aunt’s, in Toronto, and she helped me. After she passed away, I just stayed in the city. I never said anything to anyone about that night, not until now and you.”
“But why did you dump the pitcher of water on Luke?”
She smiles. “I thought he was Mike. From behind, they resemble each other. He was sitting with his back to me and I hadn’t seen either of them in years. I just saw red. By the time I realized it was Luke, the pitcher was empty.” She grimaces. “And then when he wanted to give Merrie the chance she’s been dreaming about as long as I’ve known her, I thought, well, what’s the harm in it? Everyone will guess that Sierra is a Cavendish and Mike doesn’t want any part of her. Luke will just leave, so no one will be hurt by letting people believe he’s her father.”
Sylvia shakes her head. “It wasn’t right, Daphne, and I’m ashamed that I ever thought it could be. I just wanted to come home again. I was tired of losing everything because I was ashamed, while Mike stayed here and had everything. I missed Empire and I missed Una and so we came back.” She looks at me. “I never thought he’d offer to pay child support and want to actually become involved. I mean, we’re talking about Luke Jones! He’s supposed to be the irresponsible one!”
“He’s also the one person in Empire who knows what it’s like to have your father deny you,” I remind her gently.
Her eyes widen and her voice drops. “Of course. I never thought of that.”
We look across the lawn together, a poignant silence between us.
“I’m sorry, Daphne. I owe an apology to you and to Luke. I was just thinking of Sierra.” She pauses. “And I was being unkind, without thinking it through.” She holds up an envelope that looks familiar. “I can’t sign this. I can’t accept this. He deserves to know the truth.”
“I’m glad you aren’t going to leave Luke twisting in the wind.”
“Well, that’s the other thing. He’s arranged for me to be here and I could resent that, but I’m so glad we came. Una is stubborn. She never told me about her test results, she never wants to impose, but she really needs us here.”
I smile because Luke is making things right everywhere he goes.
“So, should I tell him?” Sylvia asks. “Or would you like to do the honours?”
“I think you should tell him. You’re the most reliable source of information, after all.”
Sylvia nods but doesn’t move.
I have to ask. “Are you going to tell Mike?”
She grimaces. “He knows. I wrote him, every year at Christmas and on Sierra’s birthdays.” Her throat works. “I sent him pictures and told him about her. I thought that even if he didn’t really love me, he had to love her. She’s so awesome.” Her voice is husky. “But he never even answered me, Daphne. Not one reply in almost sixteen years.”
“Maybe he didn’t get the letters.”
“He got them. I called once and asked the housekeeper. Mrs. Wilson.” Her lips set. “She even told me to stop bothering him, that he had more important things to do.”
“Did you?”
Sylvia’s expression is fierce. “No! I kept writing him. And he kept his silence. So, now, here we are, and we have to figure out how to all live in the same town again.” Her lips tighten. “It’s not going to be easy, but I’m glad to be back. I’ve missed it. And a childhood here was Sierra’s legacy. I gave it up once, but I’m not giving it up again. I’m sick of running and hiding, of being ashamed that I loved so hard and so much that I conceived a child by the man I expected to marry. And if Mike Cavendish has ideas about that, I’ve got some ideas of what he can do with them.”
“If you need any help legally, just let me know.”
“Aren’t you and your dad in Patrick Cavendish’s pocket?”
“Not any more. I’ll be setting up on my own, at the old Foreman place.” It feels audacious to even say it out loud.
She nods and straightens. “That’s good to know. I may need you. Thanks, Daphne.” We share a hug, one I sure wasn’t expecting when I got home. “Where do I find Luke? He left the café earlier this afternoon and didn’t come back. I thought he might be staying here.”
“No, he’s at the Maple Leaf Motel.” I check my watch. It’s another hour before he’s picking me up, so maybe he is there.
“Okay. Thanks.” She gives me another smile, then heads off, walking with purpose toward the end of Forest Drive. No doubt she’ll take that shortcut behind the United Church.
Luke isn’t Sierra’s father.
Luke didn’t do the one thing he’d always vowed he wouldn’t do.
And yet still, Luke tried to do the right thing. One thing’s for sure—I think a lot more of Luke’s character than that of his brother, Mike.
Now, I just barely have time for a shower before Luke arrives. Maybe I’ll have time to change the sheets, too.
A little optimism never hurt.
Right on time, Luke pulls to a stop in my driveway, looking more like trouble than anyone I’ve ever known. What is it about him? I have to wonder if his effect on me will ever change.
I zip up my jacket and lock the door. He smiles as he surveys me, from my leather jacket to my black boots. I’ve conjured my best biker-chick-in-leather look and I see that it meets with approval.
“Yet another variation of Daphne Bradshaw,” he murmurs.
I lift my hands and turn around to show off. My jeans are black, just denim not leather, and a slim cut. I’m wearing a charcoal turtleneck under the black leather jacket, just in case it’s chilly in the wind. I love these short boots, too, with their pointy toes and spikey heels. Willow calls them my witchy boots.
Luke gives a low whistle, which makes me smile. He has another helmet, a cherry red one, and he helps me to put it on. I see that he has a red helmet, too.
“Borrowed them from Bruno,” he says. “He and Marissa ride together.” He puts his on, then taps the side by my ear. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes! How do you feel about not being a dad after all?”
He grins. “Relieved. I hated that I could have forgotten something so important.” His gaze searches mine and he doesn’t have to ask out loud.
“Relieved,” I admit. “But proud of you for making that offer.”
His eyes gleam. “And you say that when I can’t kiss you. Part of a plan, Daph?”
I laugh because I’m supposed to, but I feel lighter and happier than earlier in the day.
Luke straddles the bike then helps me into the seat behind him. It’s wonderfully sexy to be crushed right against his butt, my legs wrapped around him. I slide my arms around him and flatten my hands across his chest, my move making him chuckle.
“Behave yourself,” he growls. “We need to get there and back in one piece.”
“Yes, sir,” I say and just hang on as he turns out of my driveway. I feel I’ve lived a very sheltered life since I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before. I’ve actually never had the urge. Safe Daphne, securely on the straight and narrow path.
Hmm. Even my boyfriends were safe choices, driving safe vehicles, safely to our dates.
No wonder Luke is irresistible. He’s exotic.
A little bit dangerous.
And if there’s going to be a first time for anything, doing it with Luke is the way to go.
He accelerates as we head out of town and I realize why he likes the bike so much.
It feels like freedom, the wind buffeting us and the bike humming beneath us, the strength of Luke beneath my hands. In a way, it’s indecent to be wrapped around him like this, and in another way, it’s primal and just perfect.
It’s addictive, just like he is.
He turns into the parking lot of a little restaurant on the other side of Havelock far too soon for me. It looks like a casual Italian place and smells really good. Wood-fired pizzas are advertised on the sign. I reluctantly get off the bike and when I take off the helmet, the clip comes out of my hair. Luke bends to retrieve it for me, then smiles down at me.
“Now you’re a siren,” he murmurs, brushing his lips across mine. He looks into my eyes and smiles, his own glowing. “Leave it down?”
“Your wish is my command,” I joke and he grins. “Maybe you’ve let the djinn out of the jar.”
“Careful, Daph,” he growls. “You could end up in dangerous territory.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just grabs my hand, and I match my step to his.
I’m thinking that there’s nowhere else I’d rather go, at least not if I can go with Luke.
Going with the flow is all new for me, but I like it.
I could even get used to it.