“What about your dad? Are you close with him, too?”
My eyes lit up, thinking about my father. “My dad’s great. I’m his princess, and my mom’s his queen. He spoils us rotten.” I hoped someday the man I married worshipped me the way my dad did my mom.
“A princess huh? Sounds pretty accurate.” Luke squeezed my hand. “My parents are still head over heels in love. I want what they have. I want to be married for forty plus years, and still feel the deep connection that was there when we first met. It’s inspiring.”
The idea of Luke and me being together that long made me smile.
“Wow, I couldn’t agree more. I want that, too. My parents still hold hands and cuddle on the couch. When I was younger, it grossed me out, but now I’m just jealous.”
Luke pulled my hand to his lips and gave it a sweet kiss, and my heart warmed with the adoration in his eyes. Just as I was about to ask more questions, our server brought our meal.
As we ate the delicious food, Luke described the guys at The Rub Down, and their crazy shenanigans kept me entertained.
“Why don’t you have any female massage therapists?” Since my first appointment, I had been dying to ask this question.
“Because the women therapists in school were awful to each other. They tore each other down, always bitching and griping.”
My clam chowder slowly disappeared as he talked about the things the female students did to each other. I loved his fake, high-pitched voices, and when he almost hit the waiter with his flailing arms, I choked on my soup.
“Danny and I never understood why they acted that way, but decided we didn’t want that shit in our place.” The words spewing from his mouth may have offended most females, but not me. He was spot on about the cattiness between women.
When he finished his story, he tilted his head to the side, and stared at me for a second before gently swiping the corner of my mouth with his finger.
“You have something right here.” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked off the drop of chowder. I watched his movement like it happened in slow motion. Such a simple gesture should not have had me so turned on that I had to cross my legs a little tighter.
“Thank you.” I picked up my napkin and blotted my mouth. “Have you tried the oysters yet? The little ones are really sweet.” I added some horseradish, a dab of cocktail sauce, and the mignonette to one before offering it to him.
“Not yet. I’m not sure partaking in an aphrodisiac is a wise choice right now. You are drop dead gorgeous, and watching your sweet mouth while you eat has done nothing to help my hard-on.”
“Come on, Luke. One oyster isn’t going to make you want to jump my bones.” I slipped my shoe off under the table, and slid my foot up his calf, teasing him even further.
“Fighting with fire, Lex. Give me that oyster.”
Raising the shell to his parted lips, he grabbed my wrist to steady it. I tilted it and watched the oyster slide into his mouth. Fuck, that was hot. After swallowing the tasty delicacy, he turned my wrist over, baring the sensitive flesh, placed a small kiss on my pulse, and groaned.
“God, I want to devour you,” Luke mumbled as he took a sip of his water.
I smiled at his confession, wanting nothing more than have him do just that.
For a few minutes, we ate in silence, letting the sizzling air around us settle a little bit. However, I kept up my game of footsies.
“Tell me about Dress Me Up. How did you get into it?” Luke asked, bringing us back to safe territory. He captured my foot, and held it against his thigh.
“Addie and I graduated from Mass Art with fashion degrees, but we had no idea what to do with them. I didn’t want to go to New York City, and Boston’s fashion industry isn’t nearly as booming.” I smiled, thinking back to how Dress Me Up came to be. “One night, after a healthy amount of wine, Addison came up with the idea of personal shoppers slash fashion coordinators slash dressing up rich people. Then voilà, a business was born.”
When I talked about my passion for fashion, Luke listened. He didn’t ask to be nice, but because he actually wanted to know. In the past, my boyfriends would be looking around the room, or out the window at the passersby, but not Luke. His attention stayed focused on me, and he made me feel like I was the only person in the room.
I was so engrossed in our conversation, the waiter startled me when he brought the bill and cleared off the empty dishes.
“Do you want to go to my place to hang out? We can order chocolate cake from room service.” Once the server was out of ear’s reach, Luke whispered in my ear. “Maybe make out a little?”
Chills traveled up my spine. “Now that sounds like an excellent plan,” I replied while reaching for my jacket.
We couldn’t get out of there quick enough.
Chapter Seventeen
Alexa
When we arrived at Luke’s place, he ordered room service, while I made myself comfy on his big, luscious couch. The cable knit, ivory throw was the perfect size to snuggle under and get warm. It didn’t matter where I was or if it was ninety degrees out, I curled up in a blanket. The smell of worn-in leather and Luke’s cologne lingered throughout the space. The family pictures on the walls made his house feel like a home. But Luke was the biggest reason I felt relaxed and content. He put me at ease.
Our peaceful conversation carried on over delicious chocolate lava cake. Until…
“Do you feel like you’re ready for the race?”
What a loaded question he threw at me.
“Physically, I feel great. The running I can do.” My voice trailed off, and I focused on the city lights outside his window. As the race grew closer, the feelings gained more and more headspace, and I didn’t want to deal with, much less talk about them.
“Good. I’m glad your body feels great. But,” he gingerly grabbed my chin, bringing my eyes back to his, “what are you not saying?”
Tears welled up, threatening to spill over, and I closed my eyes for a moment. When we went for our first run, we touched on where we were, like our parents talk about where they were when Kennedy was shot, but we never really talked about the bombing itself.
I didn’t want to tell him, to show him my weakness. If I opened myself up, he’d see the fears I refused to share with anyone. Not Addison, not my parents, not Jeff. Maybe if I let the words out, I wouldn’t be a slave to them anymore.
“I’m starting to get anxious,” I stuttered. “Both mentally and emotionally.”
“How close were you to the finish line?” Luke asked, knowing exactly where my head was. His fingers caressed my jaw, and I pressed into his hand.
“I was one of the first people stopped at Mass Ave. Less than a mile away. So close.” The first tear trailed a path down my cheek, and I despised it. I wanted to be as strong as the survivors were. As strong as the runners who completed the twenty-six point two miles, crossed the finish line, and then ran another mile and a half to Massachusetts General Hospital to donate blood.
“Wow, you were minutes away.” Luke’s face grew soft, and I could tell he was remembering that day with me.
“I. Was. Terrified. At that last turn, as I headed down the final stretch.” A bitter laugh escaped. “My adrenaline was pumping so hard through my veins that I couldn’t even feel my legs anymore, but at the same time, they hurt like hell.” I sniffed and rubbed my nose on my wrist. “And then to be completely stopped? Hearing sirens all over the city heading to the same place I’d dreamt about, worked to get to for months?” Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I gave up trying to hold them back. Luke moved closer and drew me into his arms.
“But then I get pissed that I have these feelings. What do I have to be upset about?” I looked away to gather myself. “Yeah, I didn’t finish. So fucking what. Innocent people, out for a fun day in our amazing, safe city, cheering on their friends, no longer have their legs. While I’ve been training to run again, they’re trying to learn how to walk on prosthetics. Fuck, three people didn’t even survive the blasts.” My voice grew louder. I hated feeling sorry for myself, but I couldn’t help the overwhelming emotions.