Loving Lucas (4 page)

Brandon scoops the burgers and buns onto a platter and chuckles. “Isn’t that the way you’ve been living already?”

“Don’t go there, Brandon.” Sometimes I should just keep my big mouth shut. Who else am I going to discuss my life with? Because Connor smokes so much pot and drinks heavily, he has erectile dysfunction. Thirty years old and he pops Viagra like candy. Of course it doesn’t work when he’s plastered. So we haven’t had
normal
sex in five months. “Besides, what I don’t know can’t hurt me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He starts for the picnic table and I follow. “You’ve never had an orgasm, Karlie. And God knows that bastard didn’t deserve to be your first lover.”

Holy shit.
The whole world just overheard my pathetic sexual history. Marie eyeballs me sympathetically and Lucas rotates on the bench. His eyebrows arch in question. I cover my face with both hands, pretty sure I should leave or at least spontaneously combust.

“Shake it off, Karlie,” Marie suggests. “Get over here before your burger gets cold.”

I part my fingers so I can see her. My appetite just disappeared with my will to live. Brandon sets the platter on the table and sits next to Marie, who playfully slaps his arm.

“Ass wipe,” she says.

“I apologize.” Brandon gazes at me. “It’s not
your
fault.”

Lucas pats the empty space next to him. “I’m waiting for you.”

I lower my hands, studying him through narrowed eyes. He’s not going to say anything, he’s too sweet, but I know what he’s thinking . . . that I’m a freak. I reluctantly edge closer. “Sure you want me to sit next to you?”

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

It takes me a minute or two to collect myself enough to accept his invitation. After I do, I avoid his eyes, grab a paper plate, and make a fuss over my burger, adding lettuce, pickles, ketchup, cucumber, mustard, and mayonnaise. Maybe I should eat a bunch of onions so Lucas will stay away from me. I take a generous bite, my body still tingling with embarrassment.

“Lucas has a promising proposition,” Marie announces.

I drop my food on the plate and swallow. “Really?”

“That’s what we’ve been discussing over here,” she says.

“And?” I still refuse to look at Lucas.

“Might help if you talk to him directly,” Marie says sarcastically.

If things continue the way they’ve been going tonight, I’ll end up in the psych ward. Finally, I brave his dark gaze. “Yes?”

His seductive expression is pure torment. My eyes wander to that delectable mouth again. I wonder what he tastes like.
Stop it,
I chastise myself. Then he licks his lips and I nearly come undone. Did he do that on purpose? I’m clearly obsessed, and if I were him, I’d milk it. He doesn’t say anything, but smirks. Lucas Lafontaine is dangerous, and I’m headed for a physical meltdown if I don’t watch out. My poor pleasure-deprived body, like Brandon said, but what I don’t know
can
hurt me. Super cop knows it.

“If you’re uncomfortable, Karlie . . .”
 

“Please.” I wave him off, playing it cool. “What makes you say that?”

He leans close. “Might have something to do with your hands.”

I look down.
Great,
I’m shaking. I’ve been through a lot tonight, but having a distraction like Lucas makes it easier to bury my pain. “I’m chilly.”

He generously accepts my ridiculous excuse. “I just moved here a month ago,” he starts. “I bought a house on Padre Island, a pretty big one. Since you don’t want to live with Marie and Brandon, I’d like to offer you a place to stay.”

As in cohabitate? I swallow, hard. “I don’t . . .” My words trail off. I’m too shocked to speak. My eyes flick to Marie, who nods, then winks at me.

“Room and board in trade for cooking and cleaning,” he clarifies immediately.

I force out a long breath. “That’s a generous offer.”

“No strings,” he assures me.

I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse—strings might be fun. Or cataclysmic. Talk about a pivotal moment. What the hell happened tonight? I reclaimed my freedom, became homeless, and now I have a choice of places to live. It’s always been about
not
having a roof over my head. As soon as I turned eighteen, I was kicked out of my foster home. No one prepared me for the next step. I received five hundred dollars cash and a one-week voucher for a shitty hotel room on Leopard Street—a seedy part of town. I take a swig of water.

“How much money did you swipe from the RV?” I ask Marie.

She digs in her pocket and drops a wad of cash on the table. “Fifteen hundred.”

I run calculations in my head. An efficiency apartment in her complex is $500 a month plus electric. I could pay three months’ rent in advance, but I’d have nothing left. And living with Brandon and Marie isn’t an option—they’re contemplating marriage. And no matter how tight they are, having an extra body in their household would only put unnecessary stress on their relationship. I can’t do that to them.

Breathing steadily, I return my attention to Lucas. “I accept.”

“Can you cook?” he asks cockily.

“Gourmet,” Marie answers for me.

“Know how to work a mop?”

I giggle. “You might have to teach me.”

Then his cell rings, breaking the spell. “Excuse me.” Lucas slides off the bench, walking a few feet away.

“Talk about fate.” Marie reaches across the table and pats my hand. “All that’s missing is the white horse.”

“It’s not like that.”

“You keep thinking that way, Karlie.”

“It’s not.” I’m in complete denial; hormones don’t dictate my fate. And Lord knows how often I’ve denied my urges. “There’s cobwebs down there,” I remind her.

“I’m sure Lucas knows how to clear those out.”

She’s shameless, and I’m an emotional coward. “I can’t jump into another relationship, Marie. Even if I wanted to, the only man . . .”
 

“That piece of shit isn’t a man.” I’m quickly cut off by Brandon. “Someone needs to show you real tenderness. And you should let him.”

My mind is swirling. I really can’t take another bite of food. “When the
right
guy comes along, I’ll know it.” As if on cue, Lucas returns. I frown at Marie—she’s beaming, probably ready to make me eat my own words.

“You were saying?”

“Remind me to slap you the next time we’re alone,” I say. “Everything okay?” I ask, focusing on Lucas.

“Something came up,” he says. “I need to go. I wouldn’t worry about Connor—he’s shit-faced and knows I’m a cop now. Marie has my phone number and address. If anything happens tonight, call me. Otherwise, contact me tomorrow afternoon and we’ll get you moved in.”

“Sure.” I’m actually disappointed he’s leaving. “What about my bike? Brandon’s trailer can’t accommodate three.”

“I can take it now,” Lucas offers.

“Where’s your rig?” Brandon asks.

“A hundred yards north.” Lucas points. “In the nosebleed section.”

“Why didn’t you park closer?” Marie asks.

“I prefer keeping a little distance until I get to know everyone.” Must be a cop thing.

Brandon stands. “I’ll help you load her stuff.”

Lucas extends his hand to me. “I enjoyed meeting you, Karlie.”

For the second time, our hands touch, and a chill spirals up my spine. Did I just see sparks, or is that my overactive imagination?

“You made the right choice,” Marie says after they leave.

“I can make it on my own.”

“With what? Your brains? That doesn’t pay rent.”

“How about my body?” I tease.

She stretches over the table and rests the back of her hand against my forehead. “Feverish?”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

She sits back down. “Are you thinking about stripping again?”

It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. A couple of girls at school work weekends and make enough money to sustain a comfortable lifestyle. “Why not? Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“But you have options. And once you cross that line, you can’t turn back.” She takes a swig of beer. “Just give the arrangement a try—if it doesn’t work, I’ll drive you to The Devil’s Den myself.”

Chapter Five

I elected to sleep in the RV in Marie’s apartment complex parking lot. She tried to talk me out of it, but I refused. Although it’s not as posh as Connor’s, all the necessary comforts are at my disposal: a soft bed, a kitchen, and a bathroom. I rub my eyes, thankful the windows are tinted so the morning sunshine doesn’t blind me. I kick the sheet off, stretching my arms over my head. Coffee—I need a triple-shot mocha and a new life plan. I rest my head in my hands, the reality of what happened last night hitting me.

I hate Connor.

That’s my new mantra. Remembering all the crappy things he’s done to me should inspire me to never miss him, to never regret my choice. But moving into Lucas’s house . . . What was I thinking? Sure, he’s a cop, but is that reason enough to trust him? Probably not. Though he defended me without pause when no one else had the courage or desire to stop Connor, and that’s not the first time my ex abused me in public. Lucas scored big points with Marie and Brandon; that means something, too. Those two are worse than a pair of pit bulls when it comes to me. They’re my only family.

As much as I attempt to convince myself that my heart is suddenly my own again, my mind wanders back to Connor. Love, no matter how toxic, is beyond most people’s control. A single tear slides down my cheek and I swipe it away.
Compose yourself, Karlie.
I’m just nervous about moving. There’s an undeniable attraction between Lucas and me, but he’s offered me a perfectly respectable reason to live there.

Brandon would never approve if he had doubts about Lucas, and he’s an excellent judge of character. He works part time as a bounty hunter for a bail bondsman. In fact, he promised to run a quick background check on Lucas today. If everything looks good, there’s only one thing holding me back—
myself.
I’m known for self-sabotaging sometimes. Growing up in group homes and living in foster care tends to diminish any faith you have in yourself. College helps, and I’m slowly learning to trust my instincts, to believe in my academic abilities. But I still feel worthless some of the time.

I check my watch—ten thirty. We didn’t get home until four in the morning. Well, there’s time for sleep later. I need to get my truck before Connor gets home. His mom won’t give me any trouble, but she’ll demand an explanation. Maybe I’ll finally tell her what a piece of crap her son is.

I stand up, slipping into my flip-flops. My backpack and suitcase are inside the apartment. I grab my purse, step outside, then turn to lock the door. I head upstairs to Marie’s apartment and have to knock only once before she opens the door, smiling.

“Get in here, sleeping beauty.” She grabs my hand, pulling me inside. “Hungry?”

“Coffee,” I moan.

Although their place is small, it’s incredibly cushy and clean. Brandon and Marie live on a tight budget, but when they buy something—whether it’s a leather sofa or a big-screen TV—it’s always high quality. It’s not that they can’t afford a bigger apartment. But they’re both seniors at A&M and chose to live this way until after graduation, building up their savings. A
nest egg,
as Marie calls it. I plop down on the sofa.

“Where’s Brandon?”

“He’ll be back soon.” She looks over her shoulder from the kitchen sink. “I believe he wanted to get that background check done early before everyone shows up at the office.”

“Think Lucas’s story will check out?”

She folds the dishtowel in half and hangs it on a hook as she turns to face me. “I
know
it will. Everything that boy does screams popo. Some guys have genetic predispositions to be cops, you know. Natural-born leaders, a sense of justice, protectiveness . . .”
 

I roll my eyes; she’s talking him up like he’s a saint. “I get it,” I say. “You like him.”

“I do,” she admits. “And so do you.”

“He probably has a perfect girlfriend or half a dozen kids somewhere. Guys like him always do.”

“Hmmm.” She taps her chin.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen you react this way to a man.”

I shake my head, trying to figure out what she’s talking about. “Skeptical?”

“No.” She laughs. “Frantic.”

“Talk about gross exaggeration,” I say. “I think those compounds you play with in environmental chemistry have burned up a few brain cells.”

“Look at you . . .” She joins me on the couch. “Those political science classes have paid off in spades. You can lie and keep a straight face.”

We both laugh, knowing somewhere in between is the truth. Yes, I’m way too attracted to Lucas Lafontaine already, and yes, his profession appeals to me. I feel safe. Why shouldn’t I? After years of never really fitting in anywhere, and practically being ignored by my foster parents, I met Marie. She was the first person to really pay attention to me. Now Lucas—he asked questions and listened to my answers. Yes, there’s definitely chemistry between us, but what if he turns out to be a true friend? I can’t afford to ignore that potential. “No men.”

“The right one.”

Thank God the front door opens. “Ladies.” Brandon struts in.

“Hey, Brandon,” I say.

“Morning.” He walks to the side of the couch and kisses Marie. “You two haven’t even showered yet.”

“We’ve been arguing,” Marie says.

“About what?”

“Karlie still won’t admit she likes Lucas.”

“Well.” Brandon smirks at me, then hands me a piece of paper. “He’s an excellent cop, Karlie—received two lifesaving commendations and one for bravery in six years. He holds a bachelor’s degree in forensic science and an associate’s degree in general science. Shall I keep going?”

I take a deep breath and scan the page, all the positive proof I need in black and white. But I’m still not convinced. “Everyone has a past.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “There’s an ex-wife and son.”

I instantly deflate; that’s not the kind of past I meant or wanted to hear. “Where?”

“Minnesota.”

If I don’t start planning my escape now, I’ll end up at his house. “Reason enough to stay away.”