Luke's Absolution (The Colloway Brothers Book 3) (6 page)

W
hat the hell
was I thinking, making a scene like that in front of my brother and his wife? I wasn’t. Clearly. But the thought of Addy numbing her discomfort or whateverthefuck she’s trying to do with that poison damn near had me feral.

I wasn’t lying when I said I spent that entire night worried as hell. Twice I damn near packed her up in my rental car and drove her to the ER. She would wake long enough to vomit and then fall back into a deep sleep. So deep, I thought she was in a coma. Only an asshole would leave her alone in that shape, so I spent the night with her in my arms, staring at the ceiling, fighting sleep, relishing and remembering every second of how it felt to hold her. It was fucking heaven.

That’s when I knew.

This woman belongs to me. The kiss we shared earlier just confirms what I already knew to be true.

No one has ever felt so right pressed against me, not that I’ve given a lot of women that opportunity, mind you. And she won’t remember—she was too blitzed, but she clung to me all night long between her bouts of throwing up. I never wanted her to know I stayed and took care of her. I knew she’d react just like she did now.

Embarrassed.

Defensive.

Closed off.

Don’t lie to yourself, Colloway. You didn’t want her to know because you don’t want her to think you care about her, even when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

“What was that all about?” Gray inquires. Addy’s fled to the safety of the bathroom; the doorbell just rang and Livia’s gone to answer it. I can hear Alyse’s laugh and Asher’s deep voice. I know we have about sixty seconds until they’re back and our privacy will be gone for the night.

“I have no fucking clue,” I lie. “Why didn’t you tell me you invited her to dinner?” Not that I mind spending time with Addy; I just don’t want her to feel like I’ve ambushed her either, which is fucking crazy—I plan to ambush her every other chance I get. But I want to crumble her defenses, not her trust.
Probably not the smartest move to just barge into her apartment then, asshole.

“I honestly didn’t know until I texted you. Livvy apparently invited her last night.”

Ah yes, during the infamous fact-finding mission Addy went on to see if I was telling her the truth about the lease. That accusation, while it hit too close to home, still stung sharply.

“I take it you came together?” he asks. I nod and Gray grins. I may have overstated the truth that I was “instructed” to bring her. I desperately needed the feel of her body pressed against mine again, even if it was under false pretenses. “I bet that was a…challenge.”

“You could say that.” I chuckle, throwing back another swallow. “Everything with that woman is a challenge.”

“I seem to remember you love a challenge, Luke.”

I tip my beer in his direction. “Nothing revs my engine hotter than a good one.” And if Addy has any sense about her, she’ll have figured that out by now. The harder she pushes, the harder she makes me. The more she denies what’s between us, the more I want her, until it’s all I can think about. I’ve never shied away from a challenge in my life and I’m not about to start now. Especially when there’s nothing I’ve wanted more. She’s wholly consumed me.

“Hey, beer me, Gray,” Asher greets as he walks into the kitchen, Alyse’s hand firmly in his. Turning to his fiancée, he lowers his voice. “What do you want, baby?”

“I’ll have the same thing.”

Gray digs in the fridge then hands her a Molson and Asher a Heineken.

“Conn coming?” Asher asks, taking a swig.

“Nah. He’s out of town. Checking into that executive recruiting firm he’s looking to acquire. He said he’d swing by if he doesn’t get home too late,” Gray replies. He snakes an arm around Livia’s waist, pulls her close, and places a lingering kiss on her temple. I watch, happy that not an ounce of envy has reared her ugly head. It feels nice. Real nice.

“Where’s Addy?” Alyse pipes in.

“I’m right here,” she calls from behind me. She’s been gone for several minutes and I was about thirty seconds away from barging in on her, invited or not.

“Great, now I can show you the nursery,” Livia tells her excitedly, clapping her hands in glee.

“Beer?”

Livia hands her one and I don’t miss the fact that she won’t look at me. In fact, she’s taken position as far across the spacious kitchen as possible from where I stand. I want to stalk over there and haul her to me, kissing her senseless, staking my claim. I want to make it crystal clear to her that she’s mine. I want to take her back to the bathroom and fuck her into admitting she wants this—
us
—as much as I do.

But I don’t.

I just watch as the women leave in the direction of the bedrooms, presumably to get a tour of cribs and changing tables and diaper bins. How the fuck I even know that boggles the mind. Gray is definitely rubbing off on me.

And I’m not hating it. That’s the scary part.

“You have it baaaad,” Asher chuckles as soon as the women are out of earshot.

“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about, Ash.”

When in doubt…deny, deny, deny.

“Really? Then you’d better relay that message to your dick, brother.”

I adjust myself. I’m hard as a rock after watching Addy sashay away in those tight-ass jeans that showcase her every curve to perfection. I swear she moves like that on purpose. “Fuck you.”

“I don’t think it’s me you want to fuck,” Ash quips.

“It’s you I’m going to be fucking up if you say another word like that about Addy.”

Asher leans against the counter, smug and happy as shit with himself that he’s goaded me into reacting. That’s more of a Conn move than an Asher one. Guess he’s filling in for our absent sibling tonight.

“Shit.” I scrub my hand over my stubble, wondering what I think I’m doing pining away for a woman like Addy anyway.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Gray says, nodding in the direction the women went.

“There’s nothing to fuck up, Gray.” Deny, deny, deny.

“Oh yeah. There definitely is.”

Before I can answer, I hear the cackle of the girls right before they walk back through the living room in our direction.

“Okay, let’s eat!” Livia announces. Gray jumps like he’s just been tazed, pulling something from the oven. Livia’s shooing us into the dining room, where the table is dressed impeccably and everyone starts taking their seats. Well, by everyone, I mean Asher and Alyse. Addy is apparently waiting to see where I’m going to sit before she chooses. No doubt she plans on sitting as far away from me as possible.

And I decide I’ll let her. I pull out a chair on one of the ends and take a seat, giving her an out. Everything I do is strategic. I’ve chosen this particular spot because I can easily see everyone else at the table at all times, which means that Addy has chosen unwisely. Now, I’ll be watching her every move throughout the meal. She would have been better off sitting beside me.

“Wow, Livia, this smells great,” I compliment, taking a giant inhale of the fragrant vegetable lasagna she’s set on the table.

“Thanks, Luke. It’s probably not as good as yours, but…”

My gaze strays to Addy, who is watching me intently, confusion wrinkling her forehead.
Yeah, sweetheart…I have many hidden talents. All of which I’ll be showing you very soon.

The moment our gazes connect, though, her eyes shift away and I’m left feeling strangely bereft. Another emotion that’s confusing as hell.

“Nah. I’m sure it’s great. I don’t cook much anymore.”

I gave up cooking the last couple of years. Not a lot of fun when you’re just cooking for one. When I look back on my childhood, my mother teaching us to cook is one of my fondest memories. It was a bonding experience every family should try.

Food is passed, silverware clatters, and everyone digs in. For the first five minutes of the meal, I hardly take my eyes off Addy, trying to catch her gaze again. It’s fruitless. She’s intent on ignoring me.

The minute I focus on my plate, however, I feel her weighty stare exactly the way I did ten years ago when she didn’t think I knew she watched me from the stairs of her father’s house. I haven’t lived this long in the life I did by not honing my sixth sense and it was pretty fucking sharp even back then.

I don’t react. I don’t lift my eyes. I don’t curl my lips in a knowing smile.

I savor it. I bathe in it. I suck it in. I relish in the fact she’s as drawn to me as I am to her, even though she’ll die before she admits it to me or anyone else.

All during and after dinner, the conversation is light, jovial. The guys talk about sports. The girls chatter about babies and weddings. It’s nice to be with my brothers again. I’ve missed them more than I realized. More than I would previously admit.

I sip my second beer, conscious of the fact I have to drive us home. I rarely let go and let myself get rip-roaring drunk, the slip with Bigs a couple of weeks ago being an exception. Control and all that…I hate it slipping.

Sitting back, I look around at my family. The “couples” at the table sit next to each other, forcing Addy to take the other end. I notice Asher lean over to place a heated kiss on Alyse’s lips and I can’t help the unwelcome twinge of jealousy that flash fires through my blood.

I wish like hell that Addy and I could be here as a couple instead of practically archenemies. But I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing relationship wise. My brothers are tender where I’m hard. Refined where I’m rough. Boardwise to my streetwise. Would Addy even want the likes of me for more than just a roll in the sack?

I do, but somehow I know I’m going to fuck things up epically. I’m going to end up hurting her and I’ll just as soon cut off my own dick before I do that. I wish I could be the man she needs, but I stopped wishing a long time ago. Put wishes in one hand and shit in the other and see which weighs more. Shit always wins.

Suddenly the hypocrisy of what I’m doing hits me like a Mack fucking truck. I have no idea why I’m trying to pull her into my world. My depravity. My tainted past may be behind me, but that doesn’t make the things I’ve done any less real. Any less wrong.

If pure, innocent Addy ever finds out some of the downright heinous things I’ve done, she’ll go running for the hills, and I’ll help her. Hell…I’ll personally drive her there.

I need to leave Addy Monroe the hell alone. She’s far too good for me. For the second time in my life, I need to be a better man and do the right thing.

Problem is, the right thing is often the hardest of all.

F
or the tenth time
, I look at Cooper’s text and think about cancelling. It’s not fair for me to lead him on when my head is like the jumble of the day. But it’s now an hour away from our first date, and I’d feel bad bailing. Besides, I already told him I was looking forward to it, too. I’d better get my head in the game and start acting like it.

Luke and I stayed at Livia’s last Friday night until nearly midnight. I effectively managed to limit my interaction with him both there and when we returned home, and for the better part of the week, actually.

I admit I put my plan to stay away from Luke Colloway into full-blown action, keeping myself busy for the last eight days. I’ve closed almost every night. It actually worked out well, since Carla is just now getting over that bug and she’s usually my closer. Luke doesn’t seem to be around a lot anyway, keeping odd hours just like I do. I’m not sure if he’s truly busy or trying to avoid me, too. The thought of the latter distresses me for some dumb reason.

As much as I’ve tried to forget it, dinner at Livia’s last week has been on my mind constantly. The ride, the kiss, the confusing and intense exchange in her kitchen. The fact that Luke looked to me when declining another beer because he was driving. Why do his responsibility and concern endear me to him even more? Why should I like the fact that he considered me before responding? Ugh…why am I reading into things that aren’t even there?

I learned a lot of things about Luke that night, paying more attention to the conversation the guys were having versus the one I was supposed to be engrossed in with Livia and Alyse about Alyse’s upcoming wedding.

He can cook. Quite well, so I hear, although he doesn’t do it much anymore. He’s a huge Detroit Lions and Michigan Wolverines fan. He’s allergic to shellfish. He’s never been out of the country, so Asher and Alyse’s wedding, which is in Turks and Caicos, will be his first time. That also means he doesn’t have a felony record since felons can’t get passports. Even if he did, I wouldn’t really care. I know all too well how good souls can make poor decisions, just as I know they can be redeemed. My brother is a prime example.

Taking a sip of my fortification (aka Cabernet), I sigh and get back to my primping. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel if I need fortification for a date, I should be calling it off.
Just this one date
, I tell myself. Then I’ll tell Cooper I don’t have time for dating right now, which isn’t really untrue. I’m too busy bobbing and weaving, avoiding another sinful man.

Which is exactly why you should give Cooper a chance.

I’m just finishing applying a second coat of mascara to my smoky eyes when my cell rings. I’m surprised to see it’s my niece.

“Hi, Landyn.”

Landyn is my sister, Samantha’s, twenty-five-year-old daughter. Sixteen years separate my sister and me, so I’ve never been very close to Sam, who escaped our household before things spiraled downward with our parents. Fortunately, I am close to Landyn. She’s almost like the sister I feel like I never really had.

“Hey, Auntie Ad. What are you up to? Did I interrupt a hot date or something?”

“No. That starts in T-minus forty-five minutes.” I laugh.

“Ooohh. Is he hot?”

“Very.” Cooper’s hot all right…then why doesn’t he set my blood on fire like a certain tatted, Ducati-riding sex god who’s probably creeping around the apartment somewhere just waiting for me to emerge from my prison cell? I wish I knew the answer so I could fix it.

“I’m so jealous. I haven’t had time to date in months.”

“Guys are more trouble than they’re worth. Trust me.”

“Maybe. But a girl needs to get laid every once in a while to keep the dust bunnies cleared.”

“Landyn,” I cry. “For God sakes, I don’t need to hear you talk like that.” And I don’t want you to follow in your mother’s footsteps. Please, let this cycle break with Sam.

“Why? You do know I’m not a virgin, right, Ad?”

“How could I forget the detailed accounts of all your escapades?” I laugh. Landyn tends to be an over-sharer and there are some things about your sweet niece you just want to ignore. “Just…be picky, okay?”

“I always am, Ad. You’re a good role model,” she answers quietly. Not hardly, however, I don’t correct her. I’ve fallen in love with the wrong men my entire life. I could already envision myself doing it yet again with my new roomie. I guess I’m not a quick learner.

“How’s your mom?” I ask, changing the subject. I already know the answer. If I could, I would have raised Landyn myself, but being only three years older than her, that wasn’t really an option. Much like me, she’s an innocent caught in the crosshairs of the unfairness of life.

My mom got pregnant with Sam when she was seventeen. She married Sam’s father and the relationship fizzled within two years. Good ol’ Mary tried her luck twice more before finally meeting my father. By that time, Sam was already ten and because her father was absent, Bob adopted her, treating her just like she was one of his own.

Three years later Eric was born. Two more, and I came along. And nine years after that, they divorced. The reason? Like all others before him, Bob Monroe was imperfect. My dad was victim number four, but he was far from the last. My mother can’t be without a man any more than she can go without her daily bottle of five-dollar store-brand white zinfandel.

My feelings about our estranged mother have always been a bone of contention between my sister and me. Unfortunately, Sam has followed too closely in my mother’s footsteps, so her judgment’s a tad clouded. Sam’s managed to maintain a good relationship with her, whereas I’m lucky if I talk to her once a year and that’s only because she calls me religiously on my birthday.

I may be a horrible daughter, but the fact of the matter is…she was no PTA, cookie-baking mother of the year either. I’m not even sure she knows how to bake a cookie or work the oven for that matter.

“You know…same old, same old,” her soft voice replies. It’s difficult sometimes to emotionally recover from a parent who’s fallen so far from the pedestal you put them on when you were a kid. Now I understand there’s nowhere to go but down once you’ve unfairly elevated them, or anyone, to that lofty platform. I try not to do that anymore. I wish Landyn and I didn’t share that camaraderie. Unfortunately, we do.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Yeah, well…you know how it is.”

Boy, do I ever.

“How’s work going?” I ask, changing the subject to lighten the mood. I don’t need to be a Debbie Downer when Cooper gets here.

“Good. That’s actually the reason I was calling.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

Landyn finished nursing school last year, specializing in geriatrics of all things. I’m proud of her. She has the smarts to know this is an ever-expanding and growing field and she’ll have job security until she wants to retire.

“I was thinking about coming up to see you sometime in the next few weeks.”

“That would be awesome, Landyn.”

Landyn still lives in Marion, Indiana with her mother and her mother’s newest boy toy, Fabron or Fabian or some stupid thing like that. I think my sister’s moved all over the country following men around. After my mother was diagnosed with severe cirrhosis of the liver a couple of years ago, she moved closer to help take care of her. Now her pool of men has dwindled considerably, but apparently, that hasn’t slowed her down.

“Yeah. I’m looking into a couple of graduate programs and I’d like to check out the campuses and meet some of the faculty before I decide to officially apply. And I have a couple of interviews I’m hoping to line up. Can’t very well afford school there if I don’t have a job.”

I don’t really think that’s true. I would never ask Sam, but I know Landyn has a fairly substantial trust from her birth father, whose identity Sam refuses to reveal. I don’t know the whole story and neither does Landyn. Landyn and I have talked about her trying to find her biological father on her own, but she said she doesn’t want to find a man who never wanted her. Whatever her decision is, I will always support her.

“Wow. That’s great, Landyn. That would be amazing to have you live here.” And get away from your whore of a mother.

“You still have that extra bedroom I can crash in for a few days, right?”

Uhhhhh….Shit.

“Ah…not really. But we’ll work something out.” Damn that Luke Colloway for moving in here without even consulting me.

“Really? You have a new roommate? Since when?”

I take a big breath and sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“Sounds like a cocktail’s needed.” She laughs.

“Or five.”

“Is he your date tonight?”

“God, no! Why do you think it’s a guy anyway?”

“Addy, please. The longing in your voice wasn’t a dead giveaway or anything. Is he hot?”

Sinfully.

Suddenly a little bloom of envy tries to sprout. Landyn is drop-dead gorgeous, just like her mother. Long lean legs, natural blonde hair, big brown eyes with lashes that mold them perfectly. Model figure.

Men fall at her feet.
Luke
will fall at her feet. And why wouldn’t he? He’s got eyes and a dick and I’m trying my hardest to push him away. But once he gets a look at Landyn, any thoughts he had of me will just evaporate like mist being hit by the sun’s hot rays. That thought should make me happy, yet it only stirs the dirt in my gut so those seeds root and grow.

“I’ll take your silence as he’s hands-off.”

“I didn’t say that,” I argue weakly.

“You didn’t have to, Ad. God, I can’t wait to hear all about what man drama you have gotten yourself into! Listen, I’ll let you go so you can finish getting ready for your hot date while you’re thinking about your hot new roommate. I’ll call you soon about the deets, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” I mumble, ignoring her “man drama” reference. It hits way too close to home. As I disconnect, I’m irritated with myself for feeling this jealous over something that hasn’t even happened or that I shouldn’t even care about. Luke can date or fuck whomever he wants. It’s none of my business.

Oh God
. But I don’t want him to do it
here
. Imagining it and hearing it are two totally different things. The thought of him bringing a woman back
here
and having to listen to them as he lavishes his “untold pleasures” and “blissful pain” all over
her
body makes me physically nauseous.

Christ. This man has infected me but good.

Pushing the sickening thoughts of Luke and a faceless woman to the back of my head before I vomit, I finish my makeup and straighten my long hair. Half an hour later, I take one last look in the mirror, satisfied.

Tonight I’ve worn a simple curve-hugging, sleeveless little black dress that hits me just above the knees. The neckline plunges, showing a little cleavage, although nothing slutty. The most risqué part of the dress is the sheer back. I’ve paired it with some strappy nude three-inch open-toed heels. With a swipe of dark red lipstick, I’m good to go.

Not too shabby, Addy.

Finishing off the rest of my wine, I open my bedroom door, praying like hell Luke isn’t here. Somehow, I just know there will be a testosterone brawl in my living room if he is. I wouldn’t be surprised if Luke tried to throw down, staking some fictional claim on me.

When I walk into the main area, I already know he’s gone. Even though I was praying he wasn’t here, I suppress the stab of disappointment that he won’t devour me with his hungry eyes, making my nipples pucker and my flesh prickle under his intense perusal. I don’t think about the last hour I spent dressing and primping for one man and one man only.

And it’s not the man it should have been.

I’m just pulling my turquoise pashmina from the coat closet when the doorbell rings. Steeling myself, I walk the short distance and open the door after verifying it’s Cooper through the peephole.

“Hi.” I smile. I’m surprised to find myself actually happy to see him. He looks great in his black dress pants and tan crewneck sweater.

He’s silent, his eyes skating slowly over me. Cooper Jensen is handsome, successful, fit, and masculine. He’s every woman’s man. But all I feel, as his eyes rake my body, is a slight tingle. The smallest of warming that one may feel when they stand over a hot stove. I don’t feel the scorching inferno that burns me from the inside whenever Luke sets his eyes on me.

When his gaze finally lands on mine, his emeralds sparkle with heat and appreciation and I can’t help but smile.

“Wow, Ms. Monroe. You look…wow. Breathtaking.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Jensen.”

“How about we make a deal?” he rasps, moving into my personal space.

“Okay,” I answer hesitantly, tipping my head to keep hold of his eyes.

Bringing a hand up, he runs a strand of my hair through his fingers, watching it slip all the way through before lifting his eyes to mine again. “Let’s drop the formalities. I want to hear my first name roll off your lips.”

Wow, the heat just turned up a notch. “Cooper…”

“Yes. Just like that,” he whispers seductively.