Page 10 of Honeymoon Phase
It’s just that I could never cross that line with him because I like him too much. I’m not a relationship girlie and I never will be, so to sleep with someone I consider a friend would be the quickest way to lose said friend. Same goes for marrying said friend.
Thankfully, Luke never acted on anything. In fact, after I unloaded to him about my husband hunt plan, he told me he planned to never get married as well. Which is why I was so taken off guard by that letter he wrote me. I still don’t really know if he was serious about that or just joking. Going MIA with me for nearly two months makes me wonder.
“You doing okay without your dad around though? Seriously?” Luke stares at me with a concerned look in his eyes that feels like a warm hug.
I shrug and wrinkle my nose, trying not to reveal just how much it’s been affecting me. “He’s happy so that’s all that matters.”
Luke’s brown eyes search mine. “You matter.”
Damn him. He always sees right through me.
“Hey, why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night?” I ask, trying to get the focus off me. “I haven’t cooked anything decent in ages.”
Luke’s brows lift with interest. “What’s on the menu?”
“Whatever you like. I’m running to the store tonight so you can place your request.”
“Oh shit... that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his corded muscles on full display as he pinches his chin in thought. “Your Alfredo is amazing. Your salmon is amazing. Oh... that bang bang shrimp you made one time still makes me drool randomly.”
I laugh and shake my head, letting the food compliments roll over me in a way that heals my soul. I love cooking for people and hearing how much they enjoy it. It’s an act-of-service thing that scratches a part of my brain and gives me validation on some fundamental level.
“Is it too hot for your jambalaya?” Luke asks, glancing up at the sun. “That’s basically a soup, right?”
“It’s more of a stew or a one-pot dish, but who gives a fuck. Fact or fiction... soup is my favorite food group?”
“That is a fact,” Luke replies with a warm smile.
I smile back at him, feeling better than I have since my dad flew out to Florida over a month ago. “Seven ‘o clock work for you?”
“I’ll bring the beer.”
“My man.” I slap my hands on my thighs, grateful that it feelslike the old Luke is back. Hopefully he’s done being mad at me over this whole husband hunt thing. We’re too good of friends to let a potential fake marriage come between us.
“Come on into the AC and we can talk about what you guys need to order.”
“Sounds good,” he says, and I feel myself grinning as I lead the way back to my office. This smile right here is why I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Luke in my life...
... because no one makes me feel as good as him.
Not even soup.
Chapter 4
Fact or Fiction?
Lumberjacks make good husbands.
Luke
The first time I met Roe was at the lumberyard. She was driving a forklift and pulling down a stack of two-by-fours and loading them onto a trailer for a customer who was basically catcalling her the whole time. He and the guy with him both chuckled and stared at her ass while telling her to “take her time” as she climbed up into the equipment.
I wanted to bash their heads in.
But it was unnecessary because Roe had it covered. She drove the forklift over to the lumber the guys were picking up, forked it onto her machine, and deposited it on top of the man’s truck cab instead of in the bed of the truck. The guy yelled and screamed for her to stop because the wood was scratching his brand-new truck. Boards dropped off the top one by one, denting his hood and cracking his windshield, even ripping off one of his side mirrors.
He screamed at her that she was a dumb bitch, and he wanted to see her boss and she just sat in her forklift and smiled gleefully before she replied, “I am the boss.”
The man and his buddy sobered right up and asked who would pay for the damages and she said, “Probably our company insurance, but we won’t pay nearly as much as your offspring who have to walk around this earth with a perverted misogynistic asshole’s DNA in their veins. Can I get you anything else today?”
