“Mia.” Luke tried again, lower this time, as if he could sneak under my armour with his voice alone. “Come on. We can’t avoid each other forever.”
“No? Maybe I should get a warship and sail to other side of the world. We’d stand a pretty good chance then, wouldn’t you say?”
The tentative warmth in his liquid gaze faded, replaced by a hardness I didn’t recognise. “All right, mate. I’m gonna leave you to it. I didn’t come over here for you to get lairy with me.”
“Why did you come over here then?”
“To clear the air. You live here now, apparently, and so do I. Gus is important to both of us, and I don’t want to make his life difficult.”
“Gus is my brother.”
“Yeah? So where’ve you been the last five years? Last I heard you were pretty good at fucking off to another country too.”
“Don’t lecture me on giving a shit about little brothers. I saw what you leaving did to yours, remember?” I stepped up to him, jabbing my finger in his face before I could catch myself. Before I could school my emotions and stop my temper giving my heart away. My hurt. My guilt. I had both in spades. “You don’t get a TED talk on abandonment. Gus understood then, and he understands now. He’s lucky, like that. Some people never know why someone they loved walked away from them.”
Luke stared at me, his full lips curled in a half sneer, a tiny muscle ticking in his chiselled jaw. He was closer to me than I’d realised, the warmth from his hard, masculine body seeping into me. I could smell him—fresh cotton, pine, and man. If I stuck my tongue out, I could probably lick him. Kiss him. Bury my face in his strong neck. Luke’s arms, even when they’d been lanky with youth, had always been my haven. He’d hold me for hours—times when I should’ve been comforting him—and whisper soft words to me. I wondered if he’d hold me now.
I gazed up at him, lost to the magnetism that had always drawn us together. His hair was longer now, and it suited him. Like me, he was older, but adulthood looked good on him. Everything looked good on him. I opened my mouth and took a breath.
Luke’s glare faltered. “Mia—”
A high-pitched bark cut him off. He glanced over his shoulder and when he brought his gaze back, the moment had passed.
He stepped back, widening the distance between us to bearable levels. Unable to watch him leave all over again, I took my chance and walked away.
* * *
Four a.m.
I woke with a jump, heart pounding, cold sweat sheening my skin. The unfamiliar room closed in around me, and it took far too long for me to remember the shadows belonged to my brother’s house, and not my tainted Paris apartment.
Idiot.
I blamed Luke. Without him haunting my thoughts, my dreams were simple—nightmares I understood. But my racing heart didn’t come from fear alone, and it was him my mind drifted back to as I hauled myself out of bed. How was it that even his imaginary self made my blood sizzle?
Girl, you need to get laid.
It was true. My sole attempt at a revenge fuck had ended in half a sad orgasm and a panic attack, and I hadn’t bothered since. Until I’d barrelled into Luke Daley’s broad back in the crowded chip shop, sex had been the last thing on my mind.
Now it was the only thing on my mind, even as I shivered through the residual disquiet of the rest of my dream. Fuck my life.
Still fighting with Luke, I piled my hair into a knot on top of my head and jumped into the shower, turning the water as hot as I could stand, my go-to method for waking myself up when I had a predawn delivery to see to.
The prospect of opening day sent another shiver of dread through me. For weeks my focus had been on this moment, carrying me through as I’d convinced myself that nothing else mattered. Was I ready for what came next? For when the challenges of running a business became mundane? Boredom had never suited me, and I’d learned to fear it.
Twenty minutes later, I parked my car outside the shop and opened the back door for the delivery man. He loaded the refrigerator with fresh-cut blooms.
“Nice shop,” he remarked on his way out, and I couldn’t help feeling thankful that he hadn’t been here a few days ago when the ceiling had threatened to cave in. Thankful to who, though?
Dear God, did this never end?
The driver left. I shut the door behind him and set to work fulfilling the advance orders for the courier to pick up. Then I picked some prime blooms and took them to the shop window to create my maiden display. For a while, the familiar work kept me busy, and the shop came to life. Stark white paintwork warmed as I punctuated it with dusky pink and faded orange, and the green of the fresh stems brought a vibrancy I’d missed while I’d been surrounded by dust and holes in the roof that apparently only my nemesis was qualified to fix.
The scents were off the hook too. I breathed deeply and took a moment to sit back on the floor and gaze around the shop. I was feeling pretty smug until the window caught my attention. I’d left last night with a mental note to ask Gus to check out the spreading damp surrounding the splintered frame. Replacing the window was low on my list until my income stabilised, but I’d been hoping there’d be something he could do to slow the damage...damage that had miraculously healed itself overnight with a brand-new window and fresh paint job. How on earth had I missed it when I’d walked in this morning?
Probably because it had still been dark and despite my best efforts, my mind had been on other...things, but still. To the best of my knowledge, Gus had been asleep in bed when I’d crawled home last night. If he’d snuck out to do this while I slept, I was going to pretty much kill him, because it was far more than I deserved.
I stormed to the back room to retrieve my phone from my bag. It wasn’t there, and in the ten minutes it took to locate it under the service counter—seriously, when had I put it there?—I ran out of time to be a bitch about a nice thing. Tuesday was market day in Rushmere and goddamn it if I didn’t have a business to run.
* * *
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I glared at Gus over our snatched dinner of cheese omelettes and apple tart—sooner or later he was going to figure out they were still the only edible things I could cook. “Don’t give me that. Look, I’m grateful, okay? But that window must’ve cost a bomb, and I don’t have the money to pay you back right now.”
“So don’t pay me back. I’ve told you it wasn’t me.”
He’d always been the worst liar. Even now with his wide, earnest eyes and spread hands, he was fooling no one. “Fine. Have it your way, but don’t think I won’t get you back somehow. Maybe I’ll send an engagement bouquet to the next dude you bring home, eh? See how you like that?”
“How does harassing my imaginary boyfriends equate to someone stealth replacing your rotten window?”
I had no answer to that.
Later that night, Gus went out. Despite his protests that he was single, I wondered if he had a date, and found myself hovering at the window as he left, peeping around the curtain as he jumped into...
Luke’s van, obviously.
Cursing, I let the curtain drop and retreated to the kitchen to clean up the kind of mess me and Gus both were usually happy to live with for days, but even that kept my mind on Luke.
“Leave it. I’ll do it in the morning.”
Luke rolled his eyes and gathered the pizza box and beer bottles. “No, you won’t. Your mum will.”
“She won’t mind us drinking the beer. It’s why she brings all those little bottles back on the ferry.”
“Doesn’t mean she should clean up after us.”
The earnest neat freak in him had been endearing back then, but it irritated me beyond belief now. I cleaned Gus’s kitchen with far more force than necessary, banging plates and slamming cupboard doors. Luke had been a conscientious teenager because his mother had been at first too flight
y, and then too caught up nursing his dying father to look after him. He’d been so independent and ridiculously sensible, it was only a bit of booze and getting naked that had ever tempted him to relax. And God, he’d been glorious naked—
For goodness’ sake.
Flushed, I emptied the sink and abandoned the kitchen. A cold shower called my name, but I wasn’t quite brave enough. Instead, I drifted to the converted attic and the boxes of my mum’s things Gus had left for me to sort through. My punishment, perhaps, for spending the last few days fixated on a man I’d sworn to forget when I should’ve been clearing Gus’s house of the memories he’d kept for my sake.
As if on cue, a vehicle pulled up outside. Heart jumping, I peeped through the dormer window, expecting the Daley’s roofing van. It wasn’t, of course, and my soul knew it even as the neurotic squirrel in my head made me look. Made me scrutinise the black car as if it meant something.
It didn’t. A man I vaguely recognised—school, perhaps?—got out and crouched at the end of the drive. I didn’t care enough to wonder why one of Gus’s mates was messing with his flowerpots, and I turned back to the boxes. They were filled with my mother’s artwork and scrapbooks—line drawings of flowers and animals, and sugar-paper pages crammed with clues to her crazy busy life only she would’ve truly understood. My mother had worked her fingers to the bone—a constant buzz of energy. Even when we’d sunbathed on the beach, she’d talk so fast I’d felt lazy just listening.
I picked up a photograph of the two of us by the sea in Brittany. We were the same—pale and fair, her blue eyes somehow overpowering the stronger dark genes of my father, genes that dominated Gus’s moody good looks. Ironic, eh? Considering he was the sunshine of our family, and I was the volatile bitch.
The photo found its way back into the pile, along with a dozen others I couldn’t bear to see. My mother’s death had been swift, just a month between diagnosis and the end, but it had felt just as cruel as Luke’s father’s drawn-out illness. I’d pushed the pain aside for the last five years, and I wasn’t ready to welcome it back.
I sealed the box of stuff I couldn’t part with and lugged it down to my room, shoving it under my bed. I’d throw the rest away, one day, maybe, perhaps.
The deep rumble of a diesel engine sounded outside as I was scrambling to my feet. This time, I knew without question it was Luke’s van. Because it wasn’t enough that he picked Gus up every morning, now they apparently hung out all evening too. The fact that I’d miss Luke’s morning visits now the shop was open seemed irrelevant as I regressed to peeping around the curtain again, watching my brother slide somewhat awkwardly from the passenger seat, laughing, as if being with Luke made him fucking happy.
Irritated, I crumpled the curtain in my fists, realising too late that it gave away my position at the window. Gus glanced up as he waved to Luke, his expression unreadable.
Luke drove away, but he saw me.
I knew he did.
Chapter Five
Luke
Fran plucked the invitation from my hands and held it up to the light. “You should go.”
“To the council’s local businesses gala? What the fuck for?”
“Because you’re a local business owner. You can network.”
“Do you think I’m someone else?”
Fran gave me the look she reserved for when she was actually trying to be my mother. “What harm could it do? I know living around here is boring for you.”
“It’s not boring. Besides, it’s not like I’m a hermit. I spend all day with other people.”
“Working isn’t the same as living.”
Easy for her to say, she hadn’t spent nine years working a job that had been my life. Working, eating, and sleeping with a hundred other men all up in my shit. Until a few weeks ago, being alone every night had been a blessing. I wondered when that feeling would come back.
“So...” Fran dropped the invitation on my coffee table and turned to me, her rare parenting frown still in place. “Have you seen her?”
“Seen who?”
“Mia. Her shop is open now.”
I knew Mia’s shop was open. I drove past it every damn day. “I’ve seen her a few times,” I said blandly. “She’s Gus’s sister.”
“Have you talked?”
“About what?”
Fran’s frown deepened. “About anything, Luke. Don’t forget that the rest of us stayed here when you left. I know she missed you.”
You know nothing. Mia and I had openly dated on and off for years, but we’d been apart when my father’s illness had become terminal, only for me to be drawn back to her, desperate for comfort only she could give. With no energy left for gossipy bullshit, only Gus had known that we’d rekindled our relationship, and that it had grown beyond teenage infatuation to something that had ultimately scarred us both. No one knew how much I’d loved Mia.
Not even her.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said. “She’s got her life, I’ve got mine.”
“But—”
“Mum, stop. There’s nothing there, okay?”
Eventually Fran’s badgering pissed me off. I took her home, abandoned my van on her driveway, and decamped to the pub. There were enough familiar faces in there to keep me busy until I was halfway to being pretty fucking wasted on a Wednesday night. Drinking on an empty stomach had never done me any favours.
I was playing darts with some dude-bro of my dad’s when Gus walked in. An automatic grin spread across my face, but he wasn’t alone. Mia flitted in behind him and went straight to the bar without looking my way.
Gus shrugged and followed her.
It stung. I had plenty of old schoolmates knocking around Rushmere, but Gus got me. His easy company had made the transition to civilian life seem almost normal. Perhaps I’d become too reliant on him. Too demanding, and Mia was right. He was her brother, not mine.
I turned my back on them and focussed on flinging darts at the board. My aim had always been good, and I won several times over, but still the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and no matter how much I drank, my skin tingled with her imagined gaze all over me—imagined, because I reckoned I still knew her well enough to be certain she was stubbornly refusing to face me.
Calling time on my darts marathon, I drained my drink, bid my opponents goodbye, and left the pub without glancing in the direction I’d last seen Gus and Mia. It was a mile walk back to my house, but I was glad of it; at least I would be come the morning.
I fished my phone from my pocket and checked that my alarm was set, even though military life had left me incapable of sleeping more than four hours at a time. An Instagram notification from my brother caught my attention. I swiped it and immediately wished I hadn’t. Wasted and trashing whatever shithole town he lived in now, treating them to the same havoc he’d wrecked my mum’s life with after our dad died. Not that I could judge him right now for being wasted, but I’d go home, fall asleep in my own bed, and wake up in time to keep my life moving forward, even if I had no idea where I wanted it to go. Billy was destructive to himself and everyone around him. I loved him, but sometimes I just couldn’t fucking look at him.
A muttered curse behind me spun me around.
Mia glared at me. “For God’s sake. Is there nowhere in this town I can go without you loitering around the corner?”
The absurdity of it was so unfair I just stared.
She stepped closer, her face pretty much twisted in the kind of half snarl that had made me so fucking hard in the past.
Would make me hard now if I let it.
If I let her.
I swallowed thickly. We’d been in the same room all night, and yet somehow the sight of her in front of me seemed brand new. “I’m going home.”
“Yeah. I figured that when you left the pub ten minutes ago.”
She d
idn’t move. Neither did I, and I cursed myself for not going straight home. The rare glimpses of her were bad enough, but these face-to-face staredowns clawed at my insides. I had stubborn feet, a steady gaze, and hands that never faltered, but with Mia so close a gust of wind would blow her hair into my face, everything trembled.
I inhaled fresh air, hoping it would clear my mind. It didn’t. “Whatever. I’m going home now.”
“Uh-huh.”
Still I didn’t move. I glanced over Mia’s shoulder at the pub. “Where’s Gus?”
“Talking to some bloke from Grindr, I’d imagine. He left with a spring in his step.”
“He left you there by yourself?”
“No, he just left like an adult, because I’m old enough to make the three-hundred-metre walk on my own.”
Mia started to step around me. In a fit of nonsensical recklessness, I grabbed her arm, then braced myself for the inevitable answering shove.
But she didn’t shove me. She stared, apparently transfixed by my fingers circling her slim wrist, and did nothing at all.
Reeling, I let her go. “Sorry.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why are you sorry?”
Perhaps she was drunk too, and heat swam in my veins. Getting lit with Mia had always been awesome. Back in the day, I’d lie back and let her take whatever she wanted from me, but that wasn’t the picture dancing through my beer-addled brain right now. I wanted to grip her again, spin her around, and pin her against the wall. She’d never let me dominate her—I’d never wanted to—but fuck if it wasn’t an image I couldn’t shake.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
It was my turn to move past her, and her turn to stop me in my tracks with a strong grip. “Luke.”
Forgiven--A Second Chance Romance Page 3
