Page 29 of August Lane
His phone vibrated. A text from David Henry flashed across the screen.What the hell are you doing in Arcadia? And why the hell did you think I’d pay for it?
“I’ve got to deal with this.” Luke gestured to his phone. “Call you later.”
He walked out the door before she could protest. The hot air was brutal, but he took in a lungful, grateful to escape the rankness of that house. But based on David’s text, he had nowhere to go.
Maybe it was time to admit his half-assed forgiveness tour had flopped and cut his losses. He could hide in Memphis until it was time to return for the show.
“I know that look. Already plotting your escape?”
Luke looked to his right and there was August, standing next to his truck with a mean smirk on those perfect lips. She’d also pinned her hair into a messy Victorian pile on top of her head, and goddamn if the combination didn’t steal his breath.
She looked at the house and her expression softened to concern. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Luke’s eyes never left her. “I know.”
The silver touches at Luke’s temples made him look older than thirty-one. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes, like he was standing in some deep hole and was resigned to being buried in it. August hated knowing that about him, how complacent he could be about things that were objectively unbearable. The thought of him staying here, with the woman who’d made him that way, was more infuriating than the flyer folded in her hand.
“How’d you find me?” he asked.
“I checked the motel and didn’t see any unfamiliar cars,” she said. There were two motels in town, and only one that regularly changed the bedsheets. “I checked King’s, too. This was my third stop.”
His eyes shifted to his truck, and a smile crept over his lips. Crooked and flirty. That same damn finger sliding down her back. “So you were driving around town, searching for my truck?”
The picture he painted was embarrassing. Like she’d been squinting through the windshield at random parking lots, frantically searching for signs of him. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?” Luke folded his arms over his chest. Those were different, too. Teenage Luke had been tall enough to have an awkward, stringy quality to his limbs. Now he was broader, with the solid trunk of a guy who flipped tractor tires for fun. “A few hours ago, you threw hot coffee in my lap.”
She folded her arms, mirroring his stance. “It was lukewarm.”
“Did you know that?”
“Yes.” He raised a brow. She rolled her eyes. “I suspected. Either way, you deserved it.”
“I did.” He moved closer with slow, cautious steps, like she was a skittish fawn he’d cornered. “I do,” he continued. “Which is why I’m surprised to see you. Figured I’d be the one chasing you around town.”
“I’m not chasing you.”
“You could have called.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“Hasn’t changed.”
She pictured his first cell phone—a cheap Samsung he’d purchased before he left town. “Did you really think I’d keep it this long?”
“I kept yours.”
Surprise stole her ability to speak. She could still picture the wrinkled scrap of paper she’d shoved into his hand when he’d asked for it. It was the first one he’d added to his contacts, which felt like some grand gesture, effortlessly romantic.
“Why?” she finally managed.
“Because it’s yours,” he said, with a dismissive shrug that tried to pretend those were just words. His eyes said don’t pry if you know what’s good for you. That door might be better off closed.
August showed him the flyer. “What the hell is this?”
He was slow to look at it, reluctant to change the subject. When he finally did, horror creased his face. “Shit.”
“Yeah.Shit.” She was spiraling back to rage, which was good. Easier to understand than the dance they’d just been doing. “So much for that apology.”
