LUCA (Leaves of a Maples Book 5)

by Haley Jenner

  “That leaves you and me, Jakey babe,” Willow announces, clapping her hands together in victory. “We’ve so got this.”

  Claiming his seat once again, Annabelle leans in Luca’s direction, whispering in his ear. Archer growls as she leans across him, focus on his nemesis. This only encourages Annabelle more, her whispered words spoken into Luca’s ear and bringing a wicked grin to his face.

  “Jakey and I are going last,” Willow announces, winking at him conspiratorially.

  “Darci, Lady Paradox, let’s show these fools how it’s done.”

  Darci stands eagerly at Toby’s invitation, a little unsteady on her feet. I watch the love that shines at her from Bennett’s eyes; smile wistful, heart beating heavily outside his chest. It’s the way my dad looks at my mom, the way Archer, Jake, and Toby all look at their wives.

  It makes my heart beat faster, happiness coursing through me. It also makes my heart hurt, and pain to flow along that happiness as an awful counterpart. Because, as happy as I am in my life right now, as content as I feel. It’s the one thing that seems missing.

  Applause breaks out through the bar, my sister and Toby bowing as they each take a microphone. Toby’s hips move before the melody starts, his bumping Darci’s to make her follow his lead. She does on a laugh.

  Our group chuckles at their choice of song, likely Toby’s choice of song. The first line preaching about miracles, as Hot Chocolate’s “You Sexy Thing” dances around the room. Their number is all theatrics. Toby’s over the top dance moves and Darci’s shy lyrics bringing the crowd to their feet.

  Annabelle and Luca step up next, a sneaky grin shared.

  “Guy’s asking for a black eye,” Bennett mumbles as the tune breaks through the room.

  Luca sings first, shocking the fuck out of me with the impact of his voice. Gritty, and so fucking full of soul. The smooth sound rings along the first line of “Sexual Healing” with a husky rattle, and Jake stands on a loud cheer, clapping his hands on a loud holler.

  Archer stands at the same time, only his isn’t in applaud. He moves forward a step, but Jake whacks his shoulder, frowning.

  “I didn’t know Luc could sing?” My voice sounds like a cloud; dreamy, pillowy in its infatuated delivery. I should feel embarrassed, but I’m not alone. Every woman in the bar is staring at the delicious Viking that haunts my dreams in the exact same way. Hearts in their eyes, damp panties, and a crush so heavy, they’re planning their happily ever after.

  Jake smiles over at me, yelling over the music. “That’s where I met him. He filled in for a guy on a gig once. He can play a mean bass too.”

  Well, fuck. If the guy wasn’t already perfect, he sings, and panties melt. God forbid we see his rough hands dancing along guitar strings. Shit, I’d throw my panties on stage for him.

  He’s no Jake in sound; imperfections in his tone, but it’s not bad. Quite the opposite, it only adds to the appeal.

  They’re halfway through the song when Archer reaches his limit. Moving to the stage, he scoops his pregnant wife up. His hand taps her ass in reprimand and I can hear her husky giggle, a nice undertone to Luca’s voice. They disappear into a dark corner of the bar and I smirk to myself.

  Been there, lovers.

  I settle my gaze on my Viking, enjoying this new version of him. Layers. The guy has more than I ever could’ve imagined. I’m not gonna lie, it’s nice ripping them back one at a time.

  Archer and Annabelle wander back midway through Bennett and Aubrey’s number. They settle back in at the table, sated smiles painted along their faces, both a little more disheveled than when they disappeared. Bennett and Aubrey finish screeching about the lifestyles of the rich and famous and I have to give it to them, they picked well. It kind of masks how terrible Aubrey’s singing voice is.

  Kind of.

  "You ready to crush these fools, Archer?"

  Hand moving to scratch the nape of his neck, he looks up at me through dark lashes. "This is stupid."

  Walking backward to the stage, I waggle my eyebrows. "Just stand there and look pretty... Momma’s got this."

  Shaking his head, he lifts me onto the stage, stepping up after me. "The Viking is right; you are fucking crazy." The words aren't an insult, more a compliment, and grabbing my microphone, I smile wide, full line of my teeth on show.

  "Totally fucking mental."

  The thick burr of his laughter introduces the melody of the song, and rolling my shoulders, I let the beat overtake me.

  Truth be told, I forget about Archer the moment Rihanna comes over the speaker, the music replacing the blood in my veins.

  I feel alive on stage, no matter how big or small. This hole of a karaoke bar is no different. My voice dances along the harmony of the song, bringing the women in the club to their feet. They sing along, feet shuffling, hands raised in the air. They're my choir, backing my vocals with an alcohol-induced enthusiasm.

  It's fucking heaven.

  I let myself get lost in the chorus, the lyrics my sermon, and the crowd eats it up. I thrust my hips suggestively when I sing about understanding how to make him feel like a man. I bend at the waist, belting out a plea for him to make me feel like his one and only.

  Whistles, hollers, and applause feed my passion, the fire burning hot within me. The climax of the song approaches and when it hits, I slide along the stage on my knees, screeching to a stop at Archer’s booted feet. My back arches to the point of pain, my hair painted along the stage as the lyrics ring from my lips all the way to the end.

  It’s fucking euphoric, and I’m more than a little devastated when it’s over.

  Offering me his hand, Archer hikes me back up onto my feet, hugging me tightly.

  “That was somethin’ else, Frankie.” He grins. “Let’s hope he read the message clear enough,” he whispers into my ear and goosebumps break along my skin in panic.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Helping me off the stage, he nods slyly. “If you say so.”

  I avoid looking at Luca as we approach our friends, afraid he saw the desperation in my performance the way Archer did.

  I never meant to bleed that heavily onto the stage. I picked the song with him in mind, there’s no doubting that, but making it so obvious was never my intention.

  "Really, Frankie," Toby scolds, "Archer totally carried you in that performance. I'm more than a little disappointed in your effort."

  Sliding back into my chair, my chest rises and falls as I work to catch my breath. Sweat runs in between my breasts, my shirt kissing my skin in exertion. "He was hard to compete with." I wink over at my counterpart, his eyes rolling.

  Standing, Toby's hands twist around Archer's torso. "Don't worry, baby. You're the only girl in my world." His lips smack against his cheek, hips thrusting forward in a dry hump.

  Archer pushes him off on a laugh, elbow twisting to capture him in a headlock. They struggle for a moment, Toby attempting to bite the arm holding him in place. They knock into the table, spilling drinks to a chorus of cuss words from the rest of the group.

  I feign interest in the faux fight, laughing where I’m supposed to, all the while avoiding the probing stare from the muse at my side.

  "He's shy," Toby whispers, readjusting his clothes when Archer finally lets him go. "Drink anyone? My wife is about to serenade me. I need to be prepared."

  Jake and Willow having disappeared through the commotion appear on stage; Jake’s hair slicked back, Willow’s shirt dress buttoned all the way to her neck.

  Cheers erupt through the growing crowd as the intro beat to “Summer Nights” dances through the bar. Jake, dropping his voice an octave or two, delivers his first line, Willow echoing it with a breathy vocal of her own. The crowd in the bar, well-liquored, eat it up. Feet move to the dance floor, shimmying shoulders and rocking hips inserting us right into a seventies disco. A cluster of partygoers, with Toby and Aubrey leading the charge, act as their unofficial backup vocals. Giddy tell me mores r
esounding through the space with Jake and Willow cruising along the stage serenading one another.

  It’s fucking brilliant, and I clap along in eager enjoyment, laughter free on my lips.

  Caught up in the moment, I don’t notice Luca until his palm clamps my underarm, dragging me away.

  “Hey.” I glance back to our friends, not one sparing us a single second, their focus glued to the stage. “I was enjoying that.”

  He says nothing, grip tightening, my feet stumbling behind him. Reaching the bathrooms, he pushes a door opening, head popping in to check the space. Satisfied it’s empty, he drags me inside, locking the door behind us.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, my hip pops, an unimpressed glare painted along my features. “You right?”

  He laughs sarcastically, tongue cutting across the edge of his teeth slowly. “You were sent here to torture me,” he criticizes. “Do you enjoy it?” he muses, feet moving closer. “Fucking with me? Do you get a kick out of it?”

  He’s boozed. The slight slur of his words, the hooded gaze of his eyes. He’s also horny as fuck. I can read it in the fire blazing in his body language; the predatory gait he approaches with, the imperceptible flare in his nostrils, the shake in his Adam’s apple.

  “Maybe,” I taunt, ass leaning against the sink as he stalks toward me. He doesn’t stop until I’m pushed tightly against the ceramic with no hope of escape.

  “See,” he smirks, the gesture full of filthy promises. “Sent to torture me.”

  “Can I help you with something?” I feign disinterest. “Or did you just bring me in here to tell me that?”

  Inching backward, he clasps my shoulder, turning me to face the smudged mirror. I watch the hazy reflection, his eyes skating down my spine to rest on my ass.

  “Tell me when I’m inside you I make you feel like my only.” He pushes his crotch into my ass, letting me feel the dirty promise in his eyes. “I heard your song, Francesca.” He lets the a in my name trail off on a rough exhale. “I give you what you begged me for, naughty girl making everyone think otherwise.”

  Arching my back, I rub the line of my ass along the generous bulge in his pants. “Thought we were a secret.” Even in my desire clogged mind, I can hear the bite of animosity in my tone.

  He hears it too, his head lifting to meet my eyes in our reflection. He tsks me, the quick click of his tongue as condescending as the smile that ticks up his lips. “Baby, you think they don’t know my cock is in you whenever the fuck I want it to be… you’re crazier than I thought.”

  “You’re an asshole.” I bite my bottom lip to camouflage the moan that creeps up my throat.

  But he hears it, his teeth clamping onto my earlobe. “It makes your pussy wet, quit complaining. And drop your pants,” he adds, hands moving to his own. “Time to reminisce, ‘bout to fuck you dirty in a seedy club again.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Frankie

  "Hey, Frank, you meet the new barkeep?" Archer speaks over the hum of conversation, demanding to be heard.

  Shaking my head, the quiet that descends over the group is more than a little suffocating. I work my best to ignore it, focus on Archer’s face, on the odd conversation he’s decided to strike up.

  Bottom lip tipped out in consideration, a soft hum sounds in his throat. "Nice guy. Think you guys would really hit it off."

  My drink pauses on its upward motion to my mouth, the meaning in his words hard to ignore. My eyes betray me by seeking out Luca. He looks much the same as me, only his eyes spit fire in Archer's direction.

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah, shame you haven't met him yet. Must be Luca writing the schedule to keep you to himself, eh?"

  The words are said in jest, but I read the challenge underlying his words, and so does Luca.

  I'm not quite sure I understand what the fuck he's playing at. The animosity he carries for Luca is always liquid fire, impossible to overlook when they’re sharing breathing space. Add that to the awkward as fuck moment when Archer walked in on Luca’s hands pressed against Annabelle’s stomach to feel the baby kick earlier tonight. I could’ve sworn Archer was about to combust on the spot. But it still doesn’t give reason to why he’d bring me into their violent tango.

  "You should get the Viking to introduce you two." He looks to Luca expectantly, daring him to bite back.

  The one thing he doesn't seem to understand is that Luca isn't interested in me romantically. Physically, sure. But starting something more intimate is so far away from what he wants to share with me that Archer's challenge is ill-directed.

  "He only just started, they'll be on shift together soon enough," Luca scratches out, avoiding my eyes.

  My heart hurts at his words. At the ease in which he discards the dare Archer threw his way.

  "How's the remodel going?" Aubrey chirps out in an awkward and obvious change of subject.

  Archer's eyes remain on Luca's for a beat longer before turning back to the group. "Good. Framework is up, plumbing and electric are going through their motions now. Then it'll start taking shape when the walls are put up."

  I nod as if I know what the hell they're talking about.

  "Moving in too, Frank? Or will you stay in the other apartment?" There’s a smugness to the tone Archer speaks.

  My brow furrows in confusion. "Move?"

  Silence settles around the table and I glance around at their evasive eyes, settled everywhere but on me.

  Luca clears his throat. "Archer and his team are remodeling above the bar. A loft. For me," he finishes quietly, and my mouth opens in a shocked oh.

  "Thought I mentioned it," he throws out.

  "No," I shake my head. "But that's cool. That'll be nice... for you."

  Sympathetic eyes dart between me and Luca and I hate their pity. Fucking despise it. I'm so fucking sick and tired of being the joke. Of being insignificant. I concentrate on my drink, head ducked to avoid their probing stares. I will the tears not to come. I work to bury the betrayal I feel at Luca leaving me. Which is so stupid. Our arrangement was never long-term.

  "You're a fucking asshole, you know that?" The bite in Luca's voice is razor sharp, cutting through the mood of the table with a quick and potent slash. “A self-serving, motherfucker.”

  "Fuck did you just say to me?" Archer grits out. His feet move closer to Luca, the simple movement soaked in animosity, in a brewing anger I'm certain he's in no way in control of.

  "Back the fuck up, Dean." Luca mirrors the movement, their chests a razorblade width apart, almost touching with the fury in their breathing.

  "Or what?" The threat in Archer's tone amplified by the way his palms push at the quaking expanse of Luca's chest.

  I watch the flare in his nostrils intensify. Control slipping, he shoves Archer back, a growl in the back of his throat sounding in warning.

  "You're an insecure little bitch," Luc insults, "I did your girl a favor that night. She was hurting, and you weren't there to take that pain away. Worse, not only had you left her heartbroken, you let another woman put her hands on you. In front of your girl. Be grateful that for a split second in time, time that I gave her, she was distracted from that ache in her chest."

  Archer's fist connects with Luca's pretty face without hesitation, a loud and thundering crack pushing our feet backward in shock.

  Luc retaliates with a thundering jab of his own, this one connecting in a direct hit to the front of Archer's face, blood pouring from his nose instantly.

  A pause in time, a moment where their eyes darken in fury, consumed by their pride. Then it descends into chaos. Fists, headlocks, knees, whatever and wherever they can connect, they do. Brutally. Expletives pass between them. Grunts. Growls.

  The occupants of the bar move from their tables, their bodies moving carelessly through The Shallow. Glasses break.

  Archer catches Luc under the chin, his punch so forceful his head snaps back with the violence behind it. Stumbling back, Luca's hand drags slowly across his mouth, transferrin
g the blood from his lips to his knuckles. The storm in his eyes darken, pupils dilating in rage. He runs, and before Archer has a chance to brace, Luca's shoulder hits his midsection, the air in his lungs pushing out in a pained grunt, right before his back kisses a table with a piercing crack. The wood gives easily under the weight of their tumbling bodies.

  “Is anyone else turned on?” Toby settles in between Aubrey and myself, the picture of calm while the scene before us is anything but.

  “Totally,” Aubrey agrees, head tipping sideways as the boys roll one way, only to tumble back the other.

  “Bennett,” Darci stresses, eyes flinching shut every time one of their fists connect. “Do something.”

  He doesn’t. In fact, he remains situated in the same spot where it all fell to shit, drink still in hand.

  "Riding Hood, firstly, I'm incredibly flattered that you think I actually could do something to stop two violently angry, muscled as fuck men from bashing one another's heads in. I'm not risking this face for them. Second of all, this has been on the cards since they met. All honesty, I’m surprised it’s taken this long for them to get to this point. I, for one, am thankful. They’ll punch and kick their frustrations out, and tomorrow all will be settled.” He smiles over at his wife. “And thank fuck for that, I’m fucking sick and tired of it all. They’re worse than thirteen-year-old school girls.”

  Archer lands a particularly hard fist to the underside of Luca’s jaw, the loud crack sounding across the bar.

  “I think it’s only right that we take bets.”

  Jake sidles in closer. “Yes,” he announces far too enthusiastically for watching his best friend and brother beating the shit out of one another. “Though, I feel I’m fucked no matter which one I pick. One hand, my brother.” He looks to us all for understanding. “The other,” he contemplates. “My best friend.”

  “Annabelle clearly has to side with the Neanderthal, husband and all,” Toby adds, grimacing at the double-punch Luca drills into Archer’s kidneys.