Page 38 of Don't Make Me Beg
I feel Luka’s hand move to my thigh just as he makes a sharp turn, lighting my whole body in a blaze. I grip his chest tighter as we lean in tandem, but once we’re on a straightaway, he doesn’t move his hand. It’s as if every nerve in my body is connected to my upper thigh, and I am keenly aware of his hand placement.
I have to remind myself that Luka, at worst, hates me and, at best, pities me. I don’t think we’ve even reached the friend category. The man married me just to get back at my father, and now he’s just trying to make sure I don’t die on the back of his motorcycle. I need to chill out and touch some grass.
When the smooth asphalt gives way to bumpy cobblestone, I can’t help but smile. I’d know this road by feel alone, even if I were blindfolded.
Welcome to Ashford Falls, home of the Phantom Festival.
I suck in a breath as the warm summer air caresses my skin, its healing embrace making me feel so safe and protected, like a small child wrapped in a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. The smell of freshly cut grass fills the air as we pass the small downtown park that still looks exactly the same as I remember. And just like that, I’m transported back in time to when I was nine years old, playing tag with my best friend and the rest of our rough and tumble crew.
So many memories—everything I once hoped to become. The seeds of my dreams were planted here, nurtured by the community of people I’ve come to miss so much.
I take in all the tiny upgrades I didn’t notice before, the new ornate streetlights and the shiny new bench in the courtyard by the Phantom’s statue. It’s so beautiful, they’ve managed to preserve the historic charm and bring it back to life.
We roll to a stop. I can’t help but feel disappointed when Luka’s hand disappears from my thigh. He gestures to the brick building. “Here we are.”
I glance around, confused. “What exactly am I looking at?”
“I’ve been thinking about the festival,” he says, nodding toward the back of Coffee Shop, Book Store, and Bakery. “And I think I finally figured out what we can do to stand out.”
He gestures broadly. “I was thinking our downtown could use a little spicing up...”
Then, without warning, he jerks the bike around a corner, cutting through a narrow alleyway that’s definitely not street legal, and pops out on the other side of the square.
He brings us to a stop and takes off his helmet as he points to the familiar exposed brick wall. “I was thinking this would be the perfect spot for a giant mural of the Phantom.”
I shake my head. “Hang on,I think I may still be drunk. Did you just say you want me to paint a mural? Here?”
“Yes.”
I blink at him. “You’re asking me to paint a mural on Restaurant. The historic building that your brother loves more than anything. After you served jail time for doing just that?”
He nods, a wicked grin spreading over his lips. “Exactly.”
“Have you lost your mind?” I shake my head. “Luka, I can’t do that.”
“Look, Scout, I really hate to bring this up right now…” He clicks his tongue, idly spinning the ring on his finger. “But you kind of owe me.”
I feel all the air deflating from my chest. Of course. I should’ve known he’d use this against me.
His smile grows wider, and he knows he’s got me. “I think it’s rather poetic. Don’t you?”
I roll my eyes and blow out a breath. “Yeah, looks like we’ve come full circle.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Scout
The sound of my phone buzzing incessantly on my bedside table stirs me awake, and I blink open my sleepy eyes. I roll over and groan when I see the time. I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.
Damn Luka and his stupid smart home. Between the blackout shades on the windows and this bed that feels like I’m sleeping on literal clouds, I feel more refreshed than I have in years. No wonder he walks around seeming so carefree if he’s sleeping like this every night.
And they say money can’t buy happiness…
I hear my phone buzzing again, the annoying rattling pulling me back down to reality, and I have to brace myself before I flip it over.
Judging by the dozens of missed calls and texts from my parents and Jimmy, I think it’s safe to assume our little marital secret has finally gotten out.
Honestly, I’m surprised Miss Scarlett managed to hold it in for a solid twenty-four hours. Seems like a new record.
