9. I like my toes #2
“Okay, you've made your point. I get it. You clearly have no care for your personal image. This is me raising the white flag. I don’t want to play this game anymore because I, in fact, do care about my image.” I hold an imaginary flag, waving it back and forth, but Luke is not on board.
“And miss seeing your face turn that beautiful shade of red again? Not a chance. Who’s next?” He scans the crowd.
“I really think—”
“Oh, hey, Kerri!” Another victim spotted. A middle-aged woman carrying a tray of beers and expertly navigating around other patrons.
“Yeah?” she calls back over her shoulder, dropping drinks at various tables.
“Do you like your toes?” he yells. A few heads turn to look Kerri’s way, seemingly curious for her answer.
“What? No. I don’t think anyone likes their toes, do they?” she calls over her shoulder as she places the last of her beers on another table and heads back to the bar.
He asks another passerby, who hates that her second toe is so long, and another who claims their big toe isn’t big at all, so can it really be called a big toe? We laugh at the ridiculousness of it all until my stomach muscles ache and my eyes water.
“See? No one—no one—likes their toes. Can we please stop bothering people now? I’m embarrassed for you,” I say.
Holding the wineglass to my mouth, I take a polite sip, licking the drops left behind that coat my lips. Luke follows the motion, eyes darkening. The moment stretches until an older gentleman approaches our table, popping the bubble of tension mounting between us.
“Son,” he says, looking at Luke seriously, placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder.
“Mr. Brooks, how are we doing this evening? This is Liv. She’s from out of town.” Luke gestures toward me, and Mr. Brooks nods in acknowledgment before turning back to Luke.
“Listen, kid. I’ve listened to you ask several people about their toes now, and I just gotta know.
What the hell are you on about? Is this some fetish of yours?
‘Cause I gotta tell ya, if it is, that’s private stuff.
There’s a website I learned about for people like you.
Foot fetishes and all that weird shit. What's it called?” He snaps his fingers, trying to recall the name of the website.
“OnlyFans?” I ask, failing to conceal the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
“OnlyFans! That’s it. From what I gather, you can enjoy yourself there in private.” Mr. Brooks pulls at his suspenders.
Luke’s mouth hangs slightly open as if he’s trying to figure out how to respond, and then turns to me. “Gonna help me out here?”
“I think you’re doing a great job.” I prop my chin in the palm of my hand.
I snicker at the look he gives before he returns his attention to the man standing beside us.
“Appreciate the advice, Mr. Brooks. I’ll uh, I’ll consider that.” He scrubs his hand across his neatly trimmed beard.
“Well, alright then. Leave these people alone, would ya?”
“Sir.” He nods.
Mr. Brooks wanders back into the crowd after giving Luke a long, incredulous look.
“I can’t believe you left me hanging there.”
“You brought that on yourself. You just had to ask all the people. Live and learn, Luke. Live and learn.” I finish my glass of wine and glance out into the crowd. Josh is still twirling Viv about. They’re laughing and singing.
“So difficult,” Luke says.
Difficult. My head snaps back, meeting Luke’s stare. His eyes dance playfully across my face. I clear my throat, bringing my attention to the stem of my wineglass I’m twisting between my fingers.
“I like difficult.” His voice has dropped to a deeper octave, and it should be sexy, but I’m spiraling. Am I being difficult?
Snap out of it! I inhale deeply, collecting myself and meeting his gaze once more.
“Well… apparently difficult is something I’ve got in spades.
” That didn’t come out as lighthearted as I hoped it would.
With the way Luke is watching me, I think Luke senses that.
Mind racing, I try to think of ways to deflect and change the subject.
Viv and Josh return to the table laughing, saving me. Little beads of sweat glisten along Viv’s hairline as she holds her hair up off her neck with one hand, chugging water from the cup held by the other.
“Ready to get going?” she asks, breathless from drinking so fast.
It’s late. It’s been a long travel day, and still all I can think is how good a bath would feel right now. I need to check on Sunny, and pajama pants are calling my name.
“I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.”
“How are you ladies getting home?” Luke lifts his nearly empty beer to his mouth, downing the rest.
“We walked here earlier since it was such a lovely night—”
“Please, for the love of it all, tell me you’re offering to bring us back to the B&B, preferably in a vehicle, so I don’t have to walk? I did not expect to be dancing so much.” Viv’s head drops back, shoulders drooping.
“That settles it then. We’re parked out back.” Josh hooks a thumb over his shoulder.
Josh insists I ride up front with Luke, wiggling his eyebrows like he’s in on some secret we share. I wish I knew the secret too.
The drive back is short. Viv and Josh talk quietly in the back seat about things we should try to do this week, but I’m too busy studying the man next to me to listen.
I never really paid much attention to a man’s hands, but Luke’s are big and strong-looking, as though he works with them often. I imagine them, calloused and rough, exploring all my most sensitive places. Eyes closing, I drift off, lost in thought for the briefest of seconds before they open again.
I clock every detail. His forearms are muscular, with a few veins, vascular and thick, weaving along them. Sexy hands, sexy forearms—does the sexiness ever end?
With a soft sigh, I trace the line of his shoulders and along his neck.
His beard, trimmed close to the skin enough to expose a chiseled jaw, accentuates his soft, pillowy lips.
He has a nose with a slight bump at the top and, much like his one crooked tooth, I like that it’s not perfectly straight.
Luke’s eyebrows furrow as if he’s deep in thought, and a lock of brownish-blond hair slips down over his forehead.
My hand twitches, and my teeth graze my bottom lip.
I’m tempted to brush it out of his face.
I imagine for a moment climbing onto his lap, the steering wheel pressing against my back, running my fingers through his hair. Rough hands gripping my waist, pulling me into him. Involuntarily, a soft moan escapes me, surprising me out of my fantasy. What am I doing?
Luke clears his throat, his eyes flicking in my direction before returning to the road.
Once upon a time, I was a composed, entirely-in-control, put-together-in-a-variety-of-circumstances kind of woman.
My face and my emotions were mastered. Stick me in front of Luke Huffman though, and suddenly I’m a horny, sex-deprived woman who seems to have no control over having a full-blown fantasy about this man while he’s sitting right next to me!
The need to escape this moment right here and now is overwhelming. How much would it hurt if I threw myself out of the truck? I glance out the window at the sidewalk. Okay, nope. Not doing that.
We arrive at the house minutes later. Josh hops out of the truck, opening Viv’s door and then mine.
“Thanks, Boo.” Viv playfully strokes her hand down Josh’s arm and makes her way to the door.
“Anything for you, my love,” he replies, his tone just as light.
“Okay, so… goodnight. Thanks for the ride,” I call out to Luke, who’s staring out the front window.
He clears his throat and nods, sending a quick look my way. What happened? What’s changed? I clear my throat and turn from the truck.
Josh dips into a low bow and, draping his arm out in front of him, says, “I bid you adieu, beautiful lady.”
A laugh burst from me. “G’nite, Josh.”
I’m nearly at the door when I hear the truck door slam.
“Trip, hang on a second.” Luke rushes up and gently grabs my hand.
His touch is whisper-soft and ignites a spark of desire within me.
He doesn’t let go once he has my attention.
Instead, he holds me there, fingers wrapped around my hand, while his other hand brushes through his hair, pushing it away from his face.
I glance down at our hands before looking back up. The look he’s giving me makes my stomach flip. Heat rises to my cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to walk you to the door. I just… needed a minute.” He releases my hand.
I miss the contact immediately.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then? Around… here. I’ll see you around here.” Luke’s gesturing to the bed-and-breakfast. He seems rattled by something.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” My voice is excessively chipper. It pains me to hear how ridiculous I sound.
“Okay. I’ll see you then.” Neither of us makes a move to leave.
The seconds tick by as we stand there. It’s really awkward if I’m being honest with myself.
Still, the air is alive with something I can’t quite put my finger on.
Naturally, this is when the balls of my feet—still jammed into wedges—pulse with an aching throb.
That’s my cue.
“Okay… goodnight, Luke.” I’m grateful to hear my voice has returned to its natural state. Thank goodness for small miracles. I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers, retreating toward the house.
“Goodnight,” he murmurs.
Inside, Viv waits for me, sprawled out on the chair by the window. “I want to debrief so badly, but I’m so goddamn tired. Tomorrow?” She lifts her head off the back of the chair.
“Deal.”
There’s no way I’m falling asleep tonight.