Page 16 of Click of Fate

This thought does it. It’s like someone just shook me and yelled, “Girl, get your shit and get out of here!”My sex-induced brain fog finally lifts.

So I do just that. I slowly slip from the bed, careful not to wake him. I need to find my clothes—which I think are all still in the living room. I need to leave before things get weird.

On my tip-toes, I make my way through his room and into the living room. His door is a rolling door, so unfortunately, I can’t shut it behind me; I don’t know how much noise it makes. Ispot my undies and slip them on as I hunt for my bra. I can’t find it, but I’m not opposed to leaving it.

After a few more seconds, I finally spot the bra and slip it on as Luke’s voice, still thick with sleep, breaks the silence.

“Wow. You’re good at this. Almost too good.”

I freeze, then let out a breath and roll my eyes.

So much for a clean getaway.

Turning, I find him leaning against the door frame, watching me with an easy smirk.

“You make a habit of this?” he asks.

Unoffended, I smirk right back at him. “Not really, just have a thing against sticking around.”

This earns me a raised eyebrow. “That so?”

“Yep, and I also have a thing against relationships,” I tell him, as I snag my jeans off the floor and hoist them on. I wait for the usual reaction—the awkward pause, the immediate ego that insists he can be the one to change that—but it never comes.

Instead, he just nods, shrugs his shoulder and says, “Fair enough.”

Really?

Wasn’t expecting that.

He stands in the doorway and reaches his hands above his head in a deep stretch. Gym shorts hang from his body and do hardly anything to hide his semi-hard cock. His chest is bare, and I have to remind myself not to drool. Running a hand through his hair, he pads through the living room toward the kitchen area.

“At least let me make you coffee before you escape.”

Pulling my shirt over my head, I grin. “I don’t usually stick around for coffee.”

He shrugs, popping a K-cup into his machine. “Then take it to go.”

I hesitate. Why is he being so easy about this? Is this a red flag? I’m normally so removed from the relationship itself, I’ve not had to look for red flags.

The coffee starts to drip into the mug before it hits a steady stream. The pleasant and teasing aroma hits my scenes and damn, I suddenly need some caffeinated goodness in my life.

“Fine. I’ll have it to go.”

The man just grins like he won something as he pulls out another coffee pod from the holder.

I walk to the stool at the wooden island and take a seat.

He pulls his mug away from the machine. “I’d offer you this one, but you said you want it to go.” He sits it down in front of me, as if to tempt me. Staring at it, I realize I don’t have anywhere to be until around lunch.

Snatching up the mug, I blow over the steam, breathing in the fresh brew. Watching me, he asks, “So, the aversion to relationships thing. Just a personality quirk, or is there a story there?”

I lean over the counter, pretending I don’t feel the weight of this question.

“Let's just say my job isn’t relationship-friendly.” Seems straightforward enough.

He hums, sipping his own coffee now. “Photojournalist, right? Travel a lot?”

“Yep. Can't exactly date when you don’t stay in one place long enough to finish a carton of milk.” That’s almost the truth. It’s not just the job. It’s everything else, but I’m not about to get into all of that with him.

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