Page 50 of Every Time My Heart Breaks

I blinked my eyes open and peered across the surface of his chest where his shirt had become rumpled through the night.

“We can hear you, you know?” I finally mumbled lifting my head to send my mom and her friend, Caroline, a grumpy frown, all the while inconspicuously slipping my leg from over the top of Luke’s hip and off his erection.

Mom smiled at me proudly. “Morning, baby girl.”

Next to her, Caroline lifted her phone and took a picture. “So precious,” she murmured with an adoring grin.

“What the hell?” Scowling and squinting against the morning light, Luke lifted his hand to block their view. “Why are people taking pictures?”

“That’s a good question?” Caroline’s husband asked, his face appearing over her shoulder to peer in at Luke and me as well. Then he teasingly scolded, “Babe…” before kissing Caroline’s cheek and grinning. “If you were developing a voyeuristic fetish,Iwould’ve posed for you.”

Caroline groaned and rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it dirty,” she warned. “They just looked adorable together, like two kittens snuggled up in a pile of blankets.”

Luke leaned closer and whispered, “Should we tell her about the morning wood?”

I nudged him sharply in the ribs to shut him up, and he oofed, catching my mom’s attention. I don’t think she heard what he said, but she must’ve seen the strain on my face because she reached for Caroline’s arm and started to steer her out of the doorway. “Let’s give them a minute to wake up and meet us in the kitchen.”

Caroline nodded and lifted her gaze to me. “It’s nice to see you safe and okay, honey,” she said, lifting her thumbs encouragingly. “We were so worried.”

With a sleepy smile, I nodded. “Thank you.”

As she disappeared, her husband, Ten, lingered. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could see the emotion in his eyes. I had a feeling he was picturing his own daughter in my place, and it scared him. Then he offered me a watery smile and murmured, “Survivor princess.”

A smile bloomed across my face, and his gaze shifted to Luke, where his grin morphed into a scowl. “Dipshit,” he greeted. “You still owe me fifty bucks.”

“Whatever,” Luke called after Ten as he finally left too. “Her eyes could still change.”

I sighed. “Harper’s eighteen months old. I’d say there’s no chance of her eyes turning a pure Hamilton blue at this point.”

There was a well-known bet going on between Ten and Luke about which eye color baby Harper—Luke’s niece as well as Ten’s granddaughter—would have. Ten swore they were going to be Tenning hazel, while Luke maintained the steadfast belief that they’d turn as blue as his. Except Harper was already a year and a half old and the muddy brownish hue in her irises was a definite hazel.

Luke merely lifted an eyebrow toward me. “There’s always a chance,” he argued.

“Oh boy.” I rolled my eyes and pulled my sheets off me in order to climb out of bed. Unable to ignore strained muscles that screamed over every move I made, I gripped my sore ribs and winced even as I said, “You and your ego.”

But Luke cried, “Hey, hey!” as he grabbed after the sheets and yanked them back over his lap to preserve his decency. “Do you mind?”

I paused next to the bed to send him a dry look before shaking my head in disappointment. “I still cannot believe you did that in my childhood bed. My mattress is traumatized now; I hope you know.”

He only snickered. “I wonder whatmychildhood mattress is, then?”

“Lord.” I closed my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose, seeking patience for this man.

While he merely said, “What? It’s not like I can help it. It’s a dick. That’s what dicks do first thing when they wake.”

“Well, you didn’t have to mention it out loud,” I scolded, turning away to open the bag that someone had packed for me and brought over from my place. “I was going to be polite and just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” Luke lifted his brows in clear disagreement. “It was gouging you in the thigh.”

“It was gouging myknee,” I corrected. “And you should’ve pretended you didn’t notice it either. That way, we could’ve avoided this entire conversation.”

He shrugged cluelessly. “What’s wrong with this conversation?”

I blinked at him once, then lifted my hand to block him from view, even though I could still clearly make him out on the bed where I’d spent most of my teen years dreaming about him.

Still in a shirt, jeans, and socks, he looked deliciously rumpled, especially with my blankets covering one of his legs, his lap area, and a bit of his torso. The rest was left on glorious display as he half sat up, propped against a mountain of pillows with one arm resting behind his head as he watched me from his relaxed sprawl.

The stupid teenager that was still trapped deep inside me perked to life, tingling in excitement at the sight, while the rest of me gave a tired, irritated sigh.

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