Page 24 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

CHAPTER 6

Sam told herself to drop the groceries off on top of the little counter of the guesthouse kitchen and leave. After all, she did not want to run into Lukas again. In fact, she’d gone out extra early to Gertie’s for groceries to avoid that. This was a simple act of kindness. For Stevie. She’d wanted Stevie to have breakfast. That was all.

Yet, like a girl in a slasher movie, she felt stupidly compelled to walk past the kitchen.There’s a monster loose and he’s killed everyone but I’ll be fine. She just wanted to reassure herself that Stevie was all right. She tiptoed past the comfy couches and the pretty stone fireplace in the little sitting room where brilliant shafts of sunlight streamed in, took in the fabulous clear blue view of Mirror Lake out all the front windows, and craned her neck around the doorway to the adjacent bedroom.

The door was ajar and she couldn’t resist peeking in. Stevie was sprawled out like a starfish on the big bed, that omnipresent ratty blanket balled up against his angelic little cheek. Long lashes swept down over those cheeks that could’ve been more filled out, but he slept soundly with gentle, even breathing. She blew out her own pent-up breath of relief. Okay, mission accomplished, don’t look around, don’t pass Go, don’t collect two hundred dollars ...

Sam’s gaze dropped to the beige carpet, where Lukas lay stretched out on the floor. Wait—on thefloor? One hand lay cradled behind his head, the other rested on his stomach. His sexy, shirtless stomach. Her gaze roamed from his muscular, lean torso and oh, wow—was that a soaring eagle tattoo?—down his long limbs, covered with navy pajama bottoms, to his bare feet. Man alive, the guy even had sexy feet. She’d just backtracked to admire his long, dark lashes—so like his nephew’s—when Lukas’s eyes fluttered open.

Oh, fire truck.Busted.

She waved because—well, what else could she do? And backed away too quickly, ramming into the door before retracing her steps to the kitchen. She heard a door close and sure enough, Lukas was right behind her. She hoped that racket didn’t wake Stevie up.

“Hey,” he said, stopping her in her tracks.

She had no choice but to turn around. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I—” She what? Was curious? Couldn’t stop herself from sneaking around? She decided to focus on her good deed instead. “—brought a few groceries.”

Lukas stepped closer, filling up her personal space and all her senses with his tousled hair, his beard stubble, thick and dark, and that magnificent bare chest. For the first time she noticed a badass snake with its tongue out twining its way around his left biceps. She stepped backward. Away from him, where she could possibly have a logical thought instead of a completely short-circuiting nervous system.

Her eyes were drawn to the elaborate swirls of ink running down his right arm. Flowers, musical notes ... a delicate, intricate pattern of art that was mesmerizing. What did it all mean? Did it contain symbols for the special women in his life, events, places he’d seen, inspirational sayings? All of the ink on his chest and a lot of it on his arm was new since they’d been together. It saddened her in a way, thinking of how much life had happened to both of them since then. She forced her gaze away and started to unload the food.

She suddenly got really interested in grabbing a carton of orange juice from a grocery bag. “How was your night?” she asked in what she hoped was a casual tone. “You slept on the floor?”

“I was checking on him every half hour and I couldn’t sleep anyway so I just ended up crashing near his bed.”

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“That’s okay, Sunshine.” He stretched and began opening cabinets. “I’d never complain about a beautiful woman waking me up anytime of the day or night.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of those lined up for the job.” Immediately she bit her lip, regretting her snarkiness. Not that she was jealous of all the women that were surely clamoring in every city to service his every need. Sam unloaded the orange juice, a carton of eggs.For Stevie, she reminded herself. The other Spikonos was just too ... distracting.

She felt his gaze boring down on her like the too-hot sun. When she looked up, his eyes were dancing and he was smiling, one dark brow raised.

“What?” she asked.

“You look a little flustered, Princess.”

Thatreminded her of why he was so annoying, and it was a relief to replace the raw sexual tension with anger. “Do not call me that. And pu-lease. Don’t flatter yourself.” After this morning there was only one thing left to do. Stay the hell away. Like that was going to be possible with him living in her backyard.Good one, Einstein. If she were alone, she would have smacked herself upside the head.

As she cradled a loaf of bread, she felt a hand on her arm. “Hey, sorry. I don’t mean to tease.” She turned to look at him, remembering when his calling her Princess was half in jest, but mainly an endearment. Up close, the stubble on his cheeks was dark and sexy, and his big brown eyes held a touch of something she couldn’t quite read, but it was bare and honest and so, so dangerous.

He sighed. “What I meant to say is, it’s a pleasure and a surprise to have you here with us this morning. I also wanted to thank you for coming with me to the ER last night. I ... appreciated having you there. I owe you for that. You don’t have to make breakfast.” He tugged the bread out of her hands, and she quickly dug back into the bag because her hands were now shaking. “But thanks a lot for the groceries. Stevie needs all the regular meals he can get.”

Sam wondered again if she should ask what happened. How exactly the hottest singing sensation since Ed Sheeran had wound up packing a kid into his bus at his last pit stop. But Lukas was working on filling the coffee pot and she turned to more practical matters, like finding a bowl to crack the eggs in and a pan to fry up bacon. Lukas surprised her again by cracking an egg with one hand and tossing the shell in the sink.

“Maybe my sympathy for you is misplaced. Maybe you can fend just fine for yourself.”

“Honey, I’ve had an entire youth specializing in fending for myself. Cracking eggs is not a problem.”

No, it wasn’t, but cracking his shell would be much harder. Years ago, he’d offered little about his youth, and it didn’t seem that time had changed that. She traded the bag of coffee for his Pyrex bowl, nodding toward an upper cabinet. “I think the filters are up there.”

“I need to ask you a favor,” she said suddenly, watching the hard planes of muscle in his back flex as he reached up for the filters.

“I’m yours for the asking.” There went that wicked grin again. “Seriously. I owe you for all you’ve done for us.”

“You may not feel that way after I ask.”

He gave an elegant shrug. More mesmerizing muscle action. “Try me,” he said.

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