Page 25 of The Edge of Summer
I’d like to say this has no effect on me, but I try to live my life without lying. Andthatwould be a big fat one. My mouth runs dry.
“I have to shut the water off for the whole house,” he says. He begins to move out of the kitchen, toward the back of the house.
I follow him. “For how long? I have to?—”
I gasp as the heel of my foot slips on a slick puddle of water. Unlike earlier, I can’t seem to find my balance, and I make peace with my ass hitting the hard floor. I brace for the sting of impact, but it never comes.
Instead, strong arms band around my waist. A rough hand caresses the small of my back where my t-shirt has ridden up in the chaos. Chest to chest with Luke, I am acutely aware of the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. My nipples have hardened to peaks, and they are currently brushing against him with every strangled breath I take. My hands, which have fallen to Luke’s biceps, give an involuntary squeeze. And it is at this point that my cheeks flush a bright crimson befitting of my embarrassment.
Still, up close like this, I let myself study Luke. Dark stubble coats his jaw, and I have the strong urge to let my fingertips trace it. His eyes, a deep brown, have swirls of amber in them. And, like always, they’re guarded.
I’ve always had a hard time accepting that some people might not like me. But with Luke, it's not even just that. I want him to like me, but more so, I want to understand why he’s so determined not to. Ever since I showed up at his family’s house, he has been steadily trying to ignore my presence.
“Thank you,” I croak.
Luke’s hands drop from my body like my skin has turned into a live stove element. His touch made me feel hot all over, but now all I feel is cold.
“I’m going to shut the water off. Just—” His sigh is tinged with irritation. “Stay here. I don’t need you breaking your neck.”
The command in his voice brooks no argument. But I’m not very good at doing what I’m told. “No,” I say. “What if this happens again? I want you to show me.”
Luke looks like he wants to argue. His eyes roam my face, searching for something. Whatever he was looking for, he must find, because he lets out a resigned sigh. “Okay,” he says. Then his hand is extended toward me. “Careful.”
For a moment, my brain doesn’t compute. Then it dawns on me, and I place my hand in his. He may have agreed to show me the ropes, but he doesn’t trust that I can navigate the minefield of water on my own. Which, to be fair, I have slipped on twice in the span of forty-five minutes.
His hand is warm in mine. Not clammy, like I’m afraid mine might be. He leads and I follow. We pick our way across the wet floor, carefully circumventing any slips. Only when we make it to the hallway—firmly on dry land—do I realize that our hands are still connected.
I have the brief urge to leave my hand there, just to seehow long he’ll continue to hold it. Does it feel as good to him as it does me? But I’m not in a position to piss him off further—he’s my ticket to a functioning kitchen sink.
My palm slides out of his reluctantly. Luke looks down, almost like he’s surprised, and then he flexes his hand before closing it into a fist. I look away, feeling like an intruder on a moment not meant to be mine.
He clears his throat. “The water shut-off valve is in the closet over here,” he says, bringing us back on track. He shows me where the valve is and how to switch it off.
“There goes my morning coffee,” I mutter.
“What?”
I sigh. “I can’t make my morning coffee. It’s completely unhealthy, but I haven’t gone one morning for the past five years without coffee of some sort.”
“You’re right,” he says. “That is wildly unhealthy.”
At first, I think he’s being a judgmental asshole. But when he looks over his shoulder at me, I catch the spark of amusement in his eyes. I’m not sure why he tries to hide it—why he won’t let himself laugh. Or maybe he just won’t let himself aroundme.
I shove at his shoulder. Of course, he doesn’t move a muscle. “Oh,whatever. Leave me to my codependency and just help me fix my sink.”
At this, he sobers, like he has been reminded why he is here in the first place. For business, not fun.
“I have to get to the station. Now that the water’s off, the leaking should stop. I’ll get my dad to come by later to fix it. He’ll have to bring some new parts.”
He nods, like everything is settled. He adjusts the bill ofhis baseball cap to face forward—a goddamn shame, really—and then starts to head for the front of the house. To the front door so he can escape. But I don’t want him to leave just yet.
If someone was studying my behaviour, they would be thoroughly confused. I don’t even understand it myself. All I know is that Luke Bowman intrigues me as much as he unsettles me. Before I can confirm whether this is a good idea, I reach for his hand. He stops in his tracks and then turns to me, giving me his full attention.
“Thank you,” I say. “I know this is probably the last thing you wanted to be doing before work. So…thank you.”
Luke clears his throat, and I have the good sense to drop his palm. “It’s nothing, Delilah. Don’t worry about it.”
Small footsteps thunder down the stairs, cutting off further conversation. A few seconds later, Sophia rushes into the room. “Hi, Luke!” She smiles. “Did you bring your puppy?”
