Page 44 of Rock Chick Bonus Tracks

So bracing before was the way to go.

The doors opened up, he heard Tom Petty singing “Free Fallin’,” and then his heart opened up.

Because his woman was in the kitchen, her eyes came right to him the instant he appeared, and her face split into a happy smile.

Shit, she was a knockout. So fucking gorgeous, he was constantly fighting a hard-on when he was around her.

She was also hilarious and crazy and didn’t take his shit.

And Adrian wasn’t wrong. Luke wouldn’t be the man he became if she hadn’t been across the street, looking out for him on the not-rare occasion his father got up in his face.

For starters, she taught him how to walk away rather than doing something he’d regret, something that would form him into a different man. She didn’t know she did it, but she did.

She also taught him, if you give it just a little time, something good will slide in after the bad. Back then, it was her following him, coaxing him out of his shit mood and making him laugh.

Today, it was coming home to her.

“I’m cooking,” she announced.

“I can smell,” he said.

“No healthy living mojo tonight, honey. I scored a new client today. We’re celebrating,” she shared as he made his way to her.

“Fantastic,” he muttered, getting smack in her space, sliding a hand from her hip to the small of her back and jerking her into his body.

When she collided, her tawny eyes fired in a way that also made him fight a hard-on, and she put her hands to his pecs.

“I should get you a club so you can drag it around and everyone will be warned of your neanderthal tendencies,” she remarked.

He smiled at her.

She watched his lips do it, and she knew the score when she did that shit.

So he bent his head and took her mouth.

She was ass to the counter, he was between her legs, and her eyes were foggy just the way he liked them when he finally ended their make-out session.

“Congrats on the new client,” he said.

“Thanks,” she breathed.

He smiled at her again, kissed her throat then pulled her off the counter.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Baked potatoes. I’m trying this new way of doing them. It’s supposed to create the perfect potato. Also filet mignon. And sauteed mushrooms and haricots verts. Oh! And rolls. To finish, I grabbed some napoleons from Pasquinis for dessert.”

“Jesus, with all that in my gut, I’m not gonna be able to fuck you tonight.”

She shot him a look. “I’ve got practice with over imbibing. I’ll take top.”

Her saying that meant she absolutely would not. He’d find a way to rally.

She pulled out a cast-iron grill pan and put it on the stove. “Will you grill the steaks? We’re almost good to go.”

“You got it, baby,” he murmured, turning to the steaks that were already on the counter, room temperature, salted and doused in Worcestershire sauce.

They both lived full lives, work and social.

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