by J. L. Jarvis
The guy threw his head back and laughed, giving Luke a better view of his face. Just as he’d thought—confidence like that was no accident. The dude was good-looking, with an easy smile that concealed what a bastard he was.
“Are you new in town?” Since the guy still had his back to Luke, he didn’t see Luke roll his eyes. Chloe did, but she looked away quickly.
She said yes, sounding disgustingly chirpy. Luke was surprised she could see past the blinding sheen of the guy’s perfect blond hair and the glint of white teeth. Easy there, Chloe. If you keep smiling like that, you’ll have to ice down your cheeks.
“I’m Easton Amberson.”
Of course you are. Luke leaned back and tried not to look like he’d swallowed sour milk.
“But my friends call me E.”
Luke smirked. Aw… that’s as far as they’ve gotten in the alphabet, is it?
Easton and Chloe chatted about where she was from and what she did. He’d grown up in the area and gone to Yale University. He now worked for an investment firm. Shocker. He continued with the usual banter, dropping money code words. Oh, got it wrong—there’s no summer home on the Vineyard—it’s on Nantucket. The guy was so predictable, Luke could practically mouth the words along with him.
When Luke could stand it no more, he leaned over and interrupted. “Excuse me, but I’ve got this bet with a buddy of mine.”
Chloe’s eyebrows drew together while Easton turned toward Luke.
“What would you say this bar is made of?”
Easton gave him a skeptical look. “Oak?”
Luke nodded thoughtfully then looked at Chloe. “What do you think?”
She stared almost blankly but with pointed annoyance. “I don’t know. Walnut?”
Luke tilted his head. “Really? I would have thought maybe… mahogany.”
Chloe wrinkled her nose. “No. I don’t think so.”
Luke narrowed his eyes. “I think it is.”
Easton leaned toward Luke and scowled. “Look, why don’t you go home and query your browser?”
Luke glared back. “I think I will.” He got up and left, shooting Chloe a look as he passed. On his way out, he pulled out his phone and paused at the door long enough to hear Chloe’s phone ring. Then he went out to the car.
A minute later, Chloe stormed out and got into the car. “What was that about?” She slammed the door.
Luke gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. “I didn’t like him.”
She lifted her chin. “Oh really? I did. And I’m the one who’s going to go out with him.”
With a sharp turn of his head, he asked, “What?”
She smiled and waved a business card in the air.
“Let me see that.”
She handed it to him. “Go ahead. Keep it. We’ve already put each other’s numbers in our phones. And they’re synced to the cloud, so don’t bother trying to get at my phone to delete it.”
“He’s not good enough for you.” Abbot, you’re being an ass.
Chloe’s tone softened. “What’s wrong? Wasn’t that the whole idea? To get me a date?”
“No! It was to prove that you’re better off meeting someone in person than through some stupid app on your damn phone.”
“Someone sounds cranky,” she said pleasantly.
“I just think it was a bad idea. Let’s go home.”
“Why? I’m having fun.”
I’m not. But why was that? I’m overreacting. So she met someone. Wasn’t that the whole point of the outing? Get a grip. “Sorry. I just didn’t like that guy Weston.”
“Easton. And yeah, I picked up on a subtle steely insolence with a hint of earthy abhorrence.”
“You should write wine descriptions.”
Chloe’s eyes twinkled. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t stand her liking Weston, and he hated how that repugnant son of a plutocrat had latched on to her like a leech. But Chloe didn’t seem to mind it, so making an issue of it would only make things worse.
Luke forced a chuckle and tried to diffuse the tension he had created. “He probably reminded me of some guy I once knew.”
Chloe shook her head. “Poor guy.”
“I’m okay.”
A smile bloomed on her face. “I meant him.”
Luke smiled back. “Yeah, well…” He looked outside—anywhere but at her. There was nothing to do but follow through with what he’d started. “Let’s forget about Weston.”
“Easton.”
“Whatever. Bachelor Number Two. Anyway, I’ve got one more place to go. You’re going to love this.”
Her hopeful expression was unconvincing. “Okay.”
As he approached the five-star hotel, a gut-churning feeling overwhelmed him. Maybe he’d pushed things too far, or maybe he was just getting tired of their game. His fun way to prove a point hadn’t worked out as he’d expected. He’d meant to help Chloe broaden her horizons beyond her phone app and prove there was more to life than dating profiles and algorithms. She was an artist—she should understand that. There were subtle and extraordinary aspects of life that could not be reduced to a series of binary zeros and ones. She deserved more in life… in a relationship. And she was Eleanor’s niece, which was the only reason he even cared. It made her almost like a cousin in his eyes. Then why am I feeling so… not like a cousin? When, during the evening, had he had a change of heart—or mind, rather? There was no heart involved—just the mind. And he minded the whole turn of events. He was bored with the game, and he wanted to go home.
Chloe gasped as they pulled into the parking lot of a grand Victorian hotel that had had a recent high-end renovation. “It’s gorgeous!”
Luke smiled. “I thought you might like it.” He’d been there during the holidays before, and with Chloe’s love of everything Christmas, he’d thought its Victorian charm might appeal to her.
She wasted no time getting out of the car. He waited until she was halfway to the entrance, then he exhaled and followed. He had to admire her resolve to see their challenge through to the finish. In that respect, he had lost. He didn’t even care about winning the game anymore, which was so unlike him. She, on the other hand, looked like her typical joyful self as she walked through the door with her usual cheer.
It’s too late now. Here we go. Round three.
Seven
If Aunt Eleanor hadn’t appeared to trust Luke, Chloe might have been more reluctant to do so. But they had exchanged keys, his number was the first on her aunt’s list of emergency numbers, and Chloe had found a few random notes scribbled here and there to remember to give this to Luke or remind Luke about that. They had clearly been good friends, so if Eleanor had trusted him, she should too.
And why not? He’d been perfectly nice. But that night, he seemed different—still nice, but… different. She resisted the thought, but as the evening wore on, his attitude and behavior toward the men she encountered was beginning to look downright jealous. Chloe, get over yourself. Why would he be jealous? He views you as a sister. Supposing, however unlikely, that he did have feelings for her, why would he have spent a whole evening trying to get her a date? It wasn’t the most brilliant strategy for winning a girl’s heart.
If she was being honest, she’d had a sinking feeling when he had suggested the evening. Until then, she could not deny she had found him a little attractive. A lot, actually. Not that she was eager to do anything about it, but she found him extremely intriguing. She would have enjoyed getting to know him over time and possibly, eventually, discovering there was something between them, like an irresistible attraction simmering just under the surface. But that wasn’t going to happen because he just didn’t view her that way. Which was fine. He clearly wanted to be no more than friends. She was okay with that. She thought about it for a moment. It’s fine!
She tried to preserve any air of sophistication she had by holding back a gasp as she walked inside the hotel. Dark marble and wood trim were all draped in fresh greenery, and a l
arge tree stretched up to the two-story ceiling. The ambience was festive and elegant—everything Chloe loved about Christmas. A fire blazed in a massive white marble fireplace while soft lighting from wall sconces cast a romantic glow on the room and everyone in it. She glanced over at Luke. He looked even happier than she was.
She surreptitiously muttered, “Don’t tell me you’ve caught some Christmas spirit.”
“I’m just enjoying your reaction,” he mumbled under his breath, gazing at her until she had to look away.
For some reason, she felt a little breathless. It must have been the contrast in temperatures—coming in from the cold.
“See you inside.” He walked away, admiring the Christmas tree.
Feeling somehow abandoned, Chloe walked into the bar. It resembled a cross between an old English pub and a Victorian library, with dark, polished wood paneling and finishes, a crackling fireplace, and decorative overhead beams. Luke had definitely saved the best for last.
Luke wandered in a few minutes later and sat three seats down from Chloe. She couldn’t stop smiling. She loved it. She caught a whiff of pine garland and almost wished she could just sit there with Luke and talk. But as that thought occurred to her, a woman sat down between them. Oh well, he couldn’t help it if he was a chick magnet. Poor guy. Must be tough.
“Is this seat taken?” a male voice asked.
Chloe turned to her opposite side to find a pleasant-looking man with a very nice suit and a warm smile to go with it. He looked very businesslike, pulled together all the way up to his neatly trimmed hair.
“No, help yourself.”
With a charming nod, he did just that. He ordered a Scotch then turned to her. “Do you know this town well?”
“Well enough.”
“What’s your favorite thing to do here?”
“Honestly? Most of the things I love to do are at home.” Oh, that was brilliant, Chloe! You sound fascinating already. Why not just tell him you’re a homebody with twelve pairs of matching sweatpants, who enjoys coupon clipping and long walks to the pantry to feed her ten cats?
Unfazed, he asked, “Such as?”
“I’m a painter—not of houses.”
He looked duly amused. “Water? Oil?” He seemed genuinely interested.
“Watercolor, mostly.” She met his soft gaze. Hmm… those are very blue eyes. If he were a superhero, those eyes would be his superpower, giving him the ability to take over the planet, or at least anyone on the planet who liked men. Luke had been right. Organic, in-person encounters were better. If she were on a dating app, she doubted this guy would have picked her. And she would have ruled him out as being not her type, maybe even out of her league. Yet there they were, talking. He was being charming, and she was charmed.
He leaned slightly closer. “I’d love to see your work.”
Is that a pickup line? Does he want to see my etchings? She dismissed the thought. “I’m in the process of setting up a website.” At least she was in the thinking-about-it part of the process.
“And what else do you like doing at home?” Unlike Chloe, he seemed calm and relaxed. And why not? Guys like that didn’t have to work hard for attention.
Chloe grinned. “Well, at this time of year, I love decorating for the holidays.” Am I smiling too much? Looking too eager?
He nodded with approval. “So you must love this place.”
And maybe you if you keep looking at me like that. “I do.” Which is what I would say at our wedding.
He looked up at the overhead beams decked with holiday garlands. “Is that mistletoe?”
She scanned the overhead decorations. There was plenty of fresh greenery gathered into gorgeous taffeta bows. “I don’t see any.”
He smiled bashfully. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”
His head flew back as a fist struck his face, then he fell from the stool.
“Luke!”
Without answering, Luke wrestled with the man for a few tense moments then flipped the guy over and pinned him facedown to the floor. He barked out to Chloe, who without thinking, still gripped a glass in her hand. “Chloe, don’t drink that!” Then he turned to the bartender. “Save that drink as evidence. Call the police and get me something to tie him up with.” When the bartender hesitated, Luke said, “He just dropped something into this woman’s drink.”
The bartender emerged from her shocked state. “Okay, just a minute.” She rummaged around under the counter, pulled out a roll of duct tape, and tossed it to Luke.
Once he had the guy’s wrists and ankles secured, Luke got up and snapped instructions to the bartender. “Tell the police to send that drink to the lab. Here’s my card if they have any questions.”
Chloe was stunned, not only by the fact that a man had tried to drug her but by the sight of Luke’s reaction. The other guy—he had never even told her his name—hadn’t stood a chance. She’d never seen anyone act so swiftly or powerfully.
Luke put his arm around Chloe’s shoulders and ushered her toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go.” He kept his face down as they passed a few onlookers with phones in their hands.
“Shouldn’t we stay to give a statement to the police?”
“Later.”
Chloe followed, still too stunned to do anything else. She spent the walk back to the car trying to figure out what had just happened. Luke barely spoke the whole way home, but Chloe picked up the slack, mostly from nerves. “I’m sorry. I never leave a drink unattended. I learned in college to always keep my hand over my drink when things feel… sketchy. But it was such a nice place. And he seemed so—”
“Nice?”
“Yes,” she sheepishly answered.
Luke parked the car in her driveway. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Chloe thought about what might have happened and shuddered. “I would never have been here in this situation…” If you hadn’t dared me. Fear roiled up inside her. “I don’t do that. I don’t go to bars, looking for men.” She turned to him. “This was your idea.” Your fault.
Luke said nothing.
“I don’t know why I even let you talk me into this. Good night.” Chloe got out and headed for the door.
He got out and started to follow, but she said, “I’m fine,” and kept walking. When she got inside and closed the door, she leaned on it and exhaled.
Luke waited until she was safely inside then went home. She was right. It was his fault. No argument there. And the topper was the scene he’d made in the bar. So much for keeping a low profile. With any luck, he had kept his head down or faced away from people’s phones. But that would take luck. There was always a phone held by someone desperate to attain their fifteen minutes of social media fame in exchange for another person’s dignity and ultimately their own.
Once inside, he started a fire, poured himself a glass of peaty Scotch, and put on his third vinyl record—he’d worn out two others—of the Argerich and Abbado recording of Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G. He dropped the needle on the second movement, sank into his leather sofa, and stared at the flames as the right-hand melody hovered over a slow left-hand waltz, each hand slightly off from the other yet aching to find resolution.
After the previous evening’s debacle, Luke was determined to give Chloe some space. He took his morning run on the treadmill, which allowed him to look out through his rear window at the woods behind his house. The classic rock playlist he listened to when running did nothing to distract his thoughts from the previous night. He rolled his eyes to recall it.
Chloe blamed him. It wasn’t that he didn’t deserve it. He’d put her in that situation. But he hadn’t planned how it had ended. It was just something that had happened. Random things happened. He’d protected her, though. And on the bright side, he’d rescued the next woman and the ones who came after, from that abusive pervert who would have preyed on them. But there would be a price.
The phone rang. He shut off the treadmill and looked at his cell. That was quick. “Abbot.”
<
br /> “We’ve got a project we’d like you to look at.”
“Okay, I’ll take a look.”
“Not online. We need you here.”
“For how long?”
“A few days, maybe a week.”
Luke stared out at the trees. Well, why not? “Okay.”
An hour later, he tossed a bag into his trunk and headed for the airport.
Eight
Chloe glanced through the window at Luke’s house while washing the dishes. She’d memorized his text message, not that it was hard to remember. “Sorry about last night. I’ll be gone for a week on business.” He was a regular Percy Bysshe Shelley.
But a week had gone by, so where was he? And why did she care? She didn’t, not anymore. She’d been angry at first, justifiably so, then annoyed. But she had quickly remembered how swiftly he’d leapt to her defense. Wrestling wasn’t her thing, but the sheer power with which he had wrestled that man to the floor—and at such close proximity—was impressive.
The whole takedown was a blur, finished in a matter of seconds. It had been so sudden and shocking that it wasn’t until later, when she’d had time to reflect, that she realized how truly spectacular Luke had been. There was something primal about having him come to her aid in that way. Sadly, she would never be able to return the favor. Her self-defense skills extended as far as pressing the spray nozzle on a mace can. She really needed to do something about that. Meanwhile, poor Luke had been on his own.
As angry with him as she’d been when it happened, after a few days had passed, she arrived at a “no harm, no foul” view of the evening. It wasn’t as though she’d been harmed. The worst she had suffered was a wasted twenty minutes of her time in a beautiful five-star hotel bar. The bet, or dare, or whatever it was, might not have been the most brilliant decision on either side, but it was over. It still bothered her when she thought of what could have happened if Luke hadn’t been there, but then she wouldn’t have been there at all if it weren’t for him. The whole thing still felt a bit weird. Lesson learned. No more social experiments.
