Page 102 of Luck of the Draw

Skye clambered off the couch and limped after him all the way to the front of the house. Brennan was still several steps ahead of her when she hobbled out the front door. She attempted to quickly descend the steps, but a sharp cramp shot through her bum foot and made her pitch forward toward the sidewalk.

Brennan caught her with both arms wrapped around her waist, and her eyes collided with his distinctly hurt gaze. He quickly righted her and then removed his hands.

“Sorry,” he said briskly. “I promised not to touch you. My bad.”

He pivoted, taking long strides to catch up with Connor and Liza.

Leaving Skye in his proverbial dust.

She trailed behind the threesome. They didn’t seem to even notice she was attempting to join them, and she was split between an urge to cry and a compulsion to stick out her thumb and just fucking hitchhike her way out of New Orleans.

Luke caught up with her as she attempted to catch up with them. “Damn, Skye.” He scrubbed his hair with his palm. “I’m so sorry. That was a stupid idea. If anything was ever gonna break him of that nonviolence bullshit, it’s this. He is totally gonna kill me in my sleep now.” He exhaled loudly and scuffed his sneaker against the concrete. “Dude, he like knows where I live and everything.”

“You’ll be fine. It’s not your fault,” Skye said simply, and then left it at that.

After all, it wasn’t her place to offer information about Brennan’s closely guarded, timid, rejected feelings, any more than it was her place to walk beside him and his friends, or claim any place in his life at all.

* * *

The group had takenup residence at a large corner table in a brew house that flanked St. Louis Cathedral and overlooked the bustling tourist activity in Jackson Square. They had been joined by Frankie and Carson, another guy about Skye’s age who was an attorney and did contracts for the label on an as-needed basis. Brennan was seated at the far end of the table with Connor and Liza, Luke was next to Frankie, and Carson was across from the two of them. Skye was sort of next to Carson, but effectively edged out of both the conversation and the group at the opposite far end.

Carson, Luke, and Frankie were indulging themselves in filthy innuendo as they recounted the previous weekend, during which they’d all hit up the Carousel Bar at Hotel Monteleone. Skye learned via basically eavesdropping that the Carousel was their favorite place to find a hook-up, and her vast knowledge of the topic confirmed that it was a solid choice for their end goal.

She eyed Carson for a second with the same paranoia that she’d felt with Luke. Carson had no distinctive features that struck her as familiar, and beyond that, she would’ve remembered a man who was that posh and handsome. And, just like Brennan, men who were that posh and handsome weren’t the type of men she would’ve been introduced to.

Turning her attention from Carson back to the opposite end of the table, she peered discreetly at Brennan. She couldn’t hear what he, Connor, and Liza were talking about, but the trio was perfectly content and happily conversing, just like always.

Skye looked down at her plate of grilled shrimp Caesar salad. It remained all but untouched. After all, an aching heart and urge to cry made it hard to swallow. Everyone else’s plates were empty. Throughout the entire lunch, the only words exchanged with her were obligatory niceties from Carson and Frankie, who seemed far more enthralled by swapping their scandalous stories.

Several times, Liza had tilted her head to look way down the table at Skye with pity—at least it really looked like pity—and then looked at Brennan with narrowed eyes, and then back at Skye again. The gears in her head were turning, but Skye’s give-a-fucks were drying up like water splashed on hot concrete.

She was leaving. It didn’t matter what Liza thought was going on between Skye and Brennan, nor did it matter what she’d repeatedly said she hoped would go on between them. It was just a bunch of shit that was either impossible or just wasn’t going to happen.

They’d all been there for an hour, and the silence and exclusion were enough to convince her that this was a really good time to go to the public library. Maybe even right after lunch. Brennan was already mad at her. He’d probably appreciate her getting out of his hair for the rest of the afternoon.

A waiter dropped off the tab, and Brennan held out a credit card.

“Put whatever the girl at the end of the table had on this,” she managed to hear him say as he flicked a finger in her direction. He didn’t even look at her.

Sothatwas what this was now.

That was it. That was enough.

The situation was dicey and impossible, and it was time to pull the damn trigger.

It was obvious she’d hurt his feelings on the night of the freaky teeth, and Brennan had spent a couple of days acting brisk and withdrawn. That was bad enough, and there was no reason to make it worse by telling him the whole truth about what she was. There was also no reason to draw this out any longer.

Skye watched him briefly. Should she say something or just disappear? She did warn him way back in the beginning that her plan was to simply disappear on him. He would connect the dots. Then he’d be angry for a little while, maybe a little hurt, but he’d eventually get over it and move on with his life and his own problems. Maybe she’d drop a postcard to him in the mail at some point to explain herself, apologize, and thank him for literally saving her life.

This was an ideal situation for her to leave, but she also couldn’t quite bring herself to just leave without saying anything to him.

Skye stood up from the table and limped to the opposite end to stand next to Brennan’s chair. She cleared her throat discreetly and held out her palm low in front of him. He looked down at it but ignored it and stood up to step slightly away from the table with her.

He offered her a look that came off haughty. “Is that unspoken permission to touch you?”

She didn’t roll her eyes. The snarky question only proved her decision to leave was the right one. In fact, she was grateful for it.

She nodded. “Thank you for lunch.” He shook her hand briefly and started to slip his palm away, but she squeezed it to stop him. “And everything else.” She raised her eyebrows gently.

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