Page 25 of Puck Shy

“Lucas, it’s not that. It’s just…this”—I wave between us—“it’s complicated.”

“So?”

I can’t help but smile. For a man who’s lived a crazy life in his thirty-some years, I’d think he’d be more inclined to scrutinize the decisions he makes.

“This isn’t only about us, Lucas. We don’t even know each other. And it’s not like we’ve done a lot of talking. You don’t know me. You don’t know if you like me. You like your Cherry. Stevie is not her. Stevie is a coffee-drinking, blunt-talking woman who hates her job, doesn’t do relationships, and has a hard time paying her bills. I’m not built for someone like you,” I spill out.

As soon as my words hang between us, I’m mortified. I didn’t mean to tell him about my money situation, and I also hate that I implied I’m not good enough for him. But I’m trying to get the point across that we shouldn’t be more than two amazing fucks. And boy, were they amazing. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d ruin me.

“But I want to get to know that person,” he says, his voice almost pleading. “I want to get to know you, Stevie. Not just Cherry.” His eyes are sincere, and I’m reminded why I hate relationships. Too much talking. Too much feeling. Sex is easy and fun. It makes me feel powerful. This does not.

“Look, Lucas. I think it’s better we stay friends, okay? It’s easier this way. Especially with Leo, Riley, and Jace’s situation. I think that I need time to breathe.”

He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “There can be room for both their relationship and our relationship; it’s not the same thing.”

“Are you always like this when you want something?”

He grins. “I mean, I didn’t become ‘The Lucas McKnight’ by sitting on my ass,” he jokes, air quoting around his name.

“Lucas.” I sigh. “This isn’t something I can deal with right now, okay? Maybe if you caught me a few years down the line when I had my life figured out. I’m not a relationship girl. I haven’t been on a date in over a year…” I lower my voice for the next part. “And I love sex. I love sex with other people. I like to be shown off, and I like to give pleasure and take pleasure. I’m not built for a relationship.”

“Are you wanting polyamory?” he asks. “Because—”

“No, Lucas, that’s not what I’m saying. But what I am saying is: I’m not conventional.”

“Did I seem like I minded the night we met?”

I shake my head. “That was different. We thought it would be a one-time thing. I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you seem like a monogamy type of man.”

“Are you saying that isn’t something you’d ever want?”

I open my mouth to answer, but I don’t know. He’s asking me big questions that I don’t have answers to. Could I see myself in a monogamous relationship someday? Yes. But would I give up what I like at the club? No. My partner would need to be able to accept it all.

“Lucas, this isn’t a conversation you usually have with someone you hardly know.”

“Then get to know me.”

“You’re relentless,” I grumble.

He brings one of his hands up and brushes a lock of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek. “Haven’t I made it clear, Stevie? I want you, and I think you want me, too.”

Emotions wage a war inside me, and I feel like I’m about to scream “Lucas McKnight wants me!” while at the same time shouting “Abort! Abort! Run away as fast as you can!”

Fangirl Stevie really wants me to say yes to him. To forget about everything else and just jump in the deep end with this man, maybe even fly to Vegas and get hitched. But Adult Lady Stevie is wondering what his true intentions are and if he can deal with who I am, all of my flaws and strange kinks.

His thumb strokes over the apple of my cheek, and I place my hand over his. For a second, he looks hopeful. Until I pull his hand away and hold it gently. “I think it’s better if we stay friends.”

He pulls his hand back, his body now tense as he sits back in his chair. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll respect it.”

My heart clenches, and then regret fills me. Jesus, why is this so hard? It’s not like we have some long, sordid history.

Lucas stares at the table for a minute, one of his fingers tracing the shapes of coffee mugs on the table cover. Just when I’m about to tell him I need to get going so I can get out of this awkward situation, he looks back up at me and smiles. It’s not the same flirty smile as before, but it’s still charming.

“Work for me.”

I blink at him. Out of everything he could have said, that was the last thing I would’ve put on this year’s bingo card.

“Excuse me?”

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