Page 52 of Unexpected

“I wouldn’t say you were a bitch. That’s a little harsh, and we were pretty fucking loud. You had a right to be upset, and damn, you were. You came in here guns blazing.”

“Ugh,” I groaned, sinking lower into my chair. “Don’t remind me.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I honestly kind of enjoyed our little arguments. You were so fucking sarcastic and witty.”

“You enjoyed our arguments?” I asked in shock as Luke stood from his seat to flip the steaks, giving me the perfect view of his ass. I didn’t know that men could have such a perfectly rounded ass, but there he was, proving me wrong.

“I didn’t necessarily enjoy the fact that you were absolutely livid with me, but you were always ready to throw my bullshit right back at me.”

“My mom just tells me I’m sassy and hardheaded.”

He closed the lid to the grill, the smell wafted toward me, and my mouth watered once again. If the food tasted half as good as it smelled, I’d be thoroughly impressed.

“Sassy, huh? Well, then I guess I like that you’re sassy and hardheaded,” he stated simply before heading back into the house.

In the few moments he was gone, I found that I couldn’t stop smiling to myself. Knowing that he had gone through all of the trouble of cooking me dinner, buying me nice wine, and whatever else he may have planned had butterflies annihilating my freaking stomach.

Being celebrated, as he liked to call it, was not something I was used to. It wasn’t something that Michael did often, even on my birthday. As quickly as the thought popped into my head, I shut it down. I wouldn’t compare the two, because I knew that it would quickly snowball into comparing everything.

I knew I was getting ahead of myself anyway. One kiss—no matter how mind blowing—didn’t make a relationship; neither did flirting, texting or him making me dinner.None of that meant that we were in a relationship or even dating or, better yet, even thinking about it, no matter how real the sexual tension was.

It felt bizarre to be comparing my almost decade-long relationship with Michael to my friendship with Luke—a man who used to make my blood boil.

I was sure I’d lost my fucking mind, but Luke was a good type of unexpected.

“I was thinking we could eat out here. It’s not too bad with the heater,” Luke said. Balanced in his hands were two plates, silverware, the potatoes from the oven and the salad.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

In front of me, he set a white porcelain plate along with a knife and fork before he placed the bowl of potatoes and salad in the center of the table.

“Go ahead and start. I’m just going to grab the steaks and the rest of the wine.” He didn’t have to ask me twice. I grabbed the tongs for the salad, and as my stomach ached, I realized it was my first meal of the day.

It also made sense why the one glass of wine was already going to my head.

Luke laid the plate with our steaks next to the potatoes and pointed mine out. I quickly speared it with my fork before taking a large bite of the potatoes. They were buttery and fluffy and perfect. Carbs had been a big no-no for Michael; he said they would only accentuate my love handles.

I couldn’t give a shit about the effect of the food on my body as the flavor bloomed on my tongue.

Similarly, the steak was perfectly cooked and seasoned. Midbite, I unintentionally let out a groan of pleasure, eliciting a chuckle from Luke across from me. I realized then that I had closed my eyes and probably looked nuts while enjoying my food. When I looked over at him, he was eyeing me suspiciously, taking a bite of his own.

“Good?”

“Sogood,” I said before taking a bite of salad, making sure that each ingredient was on my fork.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“So, you can cook?”

He nodded as I watched him take a bite of steak. Even the fork and knife in his hands appeared so much smaller than the ones I was holding. Everything about him seemed larger than life.

“Where’d you learn how to cook?”

He shrugged. “Just kind of picked it up. I cooked for Josh a lot and just got better with more practice. Don’t think I’m a chef or anything, though. I never cook anything too complicated. If I stick to the basics, then I usually don’t mess it up.”

“Did your mom or dad teach you? My dad is the cook in our family most of the time. But my mom can bake anything.”

His body language changed instantly. The moment the words left my mouth Luke’s shoulders tensed and his grip on his fork tightened. Even in the dim glow of the string lights, I could see the white around his knuckles and the usually soft lines on his forehead deepen.

---