Page 20 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
He ignores my dig, because he hates it when people think he’s a quarterback—he’s not. He doesn’t just look pretty on the field like his older brother, at least that’s what he says.
“Why not just hire someone to do the work, Liv? It’d be faster.”
I blink at him. “Wow. That never occurred to me. Maybe it’s because my bank account is teetering dangerously close to single digits?”
Lucian taps his fingers against the table as if he’s genuinely contemplating my financial ruin, which is both unsettling and unnecessary. “I’ll loan you the money,” he offers.
I nearly choke on my coffee.
“No, thank you,” I say firmly. “You’re a stranger, and I don’t believe in loans.”
He frowns like I just confessed to kicking puppies. “That’s . . . everyone needs a loan from time to time.”
I arch a brow. “Do you?”
Lucian smirks. “No. But I could if I wanted to.”
I groan, rubbing my temples. “That’s not how loans work.”
“Sure it is.” He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a fascinating puzzle he has to solve. “So, what—you just don’t trust people?”
“Oh, I trust people,” I say sweetly. “To disappoint me.”
He whistles low under his breath. “Damn, Doc. Who hurt you?”
I break another piece of my muffin with perhaps a little more force than necessary. “Life, Lucian. Life hurt me.”
He grins, utterly delighted by my suffering. “Good thing I’m here to restore your faith in humanity.”
I stare at him for a long moment. If I wasn’t enjoying this amazing muffin, I would simply stand up and take Sarah with me. Maybe we would go somewhere we can talk to someoneless annoying, like a tax collector or an aggressive door-to-door salesman.
Lucian sighs, dragging a hand through his hair like I’m the one being difficult. “Fine. I won’t loan you the money. I’ll just offer you some of my handy skills.”
I arch a brow, crossing my arms. “Is this some kind of euphemism?”
His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his dark eyes as he leans a little close, crowding me just enough to make my pulse stutter. “Depends. You ever been truly satisfied by a man’s hands before?”
My throat goes dry. “I—what?”
Lucian smirks, his voice dropping to a slow, low tone . . . so husky I’m almost bursting with need. “Because I’ve got a reputation, you know. Precision. Strength. Stamina.” He flexes his fingers, watching me like he’s savoring every second of my flustered reaction. “I know exactly how to handle every inch. How to make sure every stroke is just right. Never rush the job. Always make sure you’re completely satisfied.”
Heat creeps up my neck. My brain short-circuits. My mouth works, but no sound comes out.
Lucian grins, leaning even closer as if he’s about to deliver the final blow. “So, what do you say? Want me to come over and—” his voice dips low, almost a growl, “—paint your walls?”
I shove his shoulder, face flaming. “Oh my God. You’re the worst.”
He chuckles, completely unbothered. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Luc. I need you to paint my walls and add some magic with your hands.’”
“I so don’t sound like that.”
He taps his ears twice. “In my ears, you do, sweetheart. In my ears, you sound just the way I like, and those moans. They’re music to my ears.”
“Have I mentioned you’re infuriating?”
“A few times, but I believe it means ‘I’m so happy we met. This is going to be the best friendship ever.’”
If I didn’t need help, I would ditch him right now. Not that he would leave. Somehow, he keeps appearing no matter what I do. The question is, what’s his motive? It’s not like I can give him anything. Seriously, I have nothing to give in return. He should just walk away.
