Pretend You're Mine: A Small Town Love Story (3 page)

He opened the passenger door for her and she levered herself up and onto the seat trying not to wince as her aching body slid across the leather.

Luke slid into the driver’s seat and started the truck. He pushed a button and Harper instantly felt heat under her ass. Seat warmers! He hung a left out of the parking lot and in just a few minutes they were pulling into the driveway of a tidy brick three-story with a sprawling front porch. Harper blinked through tired eyes. “You live
here
?”

He glanced out of the windshield at the house. “Yep.”

“I expected something different. Like a bachelor pad apartment. Do you have roommates?” A girlfriend? A wife and four kids?

“Nope. Just me.” He smiled, a quick, heart-tickling grin. “Come on.”

The wide-planked porch was deep, wrapping around to the far side of the house. There was no furniture, but Harper could just imagine a porch swing and hanging baskets blooming with color.

Luke unlocked the front door and held it open for her.

She stepped over the threshold and waited while he flipped on the lights. The foyer opened directly to a wide-banister staircase. A pair of doorways mirrored each other from opposite walls leading into darkened rooms. Above the dark wainscoting, the walls were covered with ornate wallpaper with roses and hummingbirds.

“You don’t really live here, do you?”

Luke tossed his keys on a skinny table just inside the door. The only piece of furniture visible to Harper. He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

She trailed a finger over a paper rose. “No reason.” Harper poked her head into the room on the right. From the streetlights outside she could just make out an ornate sofa with wooden arms opposite a flat screen on sawhorses. The rest of the room was empty.

“Did you just move in?”

“Not really.” He looked sheepish. “I’ve been here a couple of years.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Where did you get that couch?” She gestured at the carved wooden monstrosity with its lumpy red velour cushions.

“It was my grandmother’s.”

“Oh, thank God. I thought you went flea marketing one day and thought that looked like the perfect place to watch TV evangelists.”

He cracked a smile. “This was my grandmother’s house. I bought it when she passed away.”

“Were you close?”

“As close as you can be to a crazy Italian grandmother who chases you with a wooden spoon. Most of the furniture that’s here is hers.”

“There doesn’t seem to be a lot of it,” Harper observed.

“I keep meaning to get more, but I’ve been —”

“Busy,” she finished it for him.

“Anyway, there’s only one bed, so you can take that and I’ll take the couch.”

Horrified, Harper stared at the unwelcoming lines of the couch. “Absolutely not. I’m not putting you out of your own bed.”

“Well, you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“Neither are you,” Harper insisted.

“What do you suggest?”

She paused weighing the options. “We are two exhausted adults who probably have a reasonable amount of self-control. Can we both sleep in the bed?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His hands were out of his pockets now and cruising over the back of his head. He was nervous and Harper thought it was adorable.

“Why not?”

“We don’t know each other and ...” he trailed off and Harper scented victory.

“I think I can trust you can control your hormones and not jump me in the middle of the night,” she teased.

“It’s not
my
hormones that I’m worried about.”

She smacked him in the chest. The very solid, warm chest. Maybe he had a point.

***

T
he only furniture on the second floor was in the master bedroom. A four-poster queen-sized bed dominated one wall opposite an ornately carved dresser.

“Grandma’s?” Harper lightly grasped one of the mahogany posts at the foot of the bed.

Luke nodded, hands back in his pockets.

“It’s nice.” Staring at his bed was suddenly making Harper feel a little shy.

“I can still sleep on the couch if you’d be more comfortable.” He jerked a thumb towards the hallway.

“Don’t be ridiculous. That thing looks like it would put your ass to sleep if you sat down long enough to tie your shoes. We’re adults. This doesn’t have to be awkward, right?”

Instead of answering, he turned and opened one of the dresser drawers.

“Here.” Luke held out a plain white t-shirt. “You can sleep in this.”

It was soft to the touch and obviously well worn. By him.

“Thanks.” She took it, careful to only touch the shirt.

“You can change in there,” he gestured towards the connecting bathroom. “I’m going to go lock up.”

“Okay, thanks.” They stared at each other for another minute. “This is awkward, isn’t it?” Harper blurted out.

Luke smiled. “A little.”

“It’s just for one night.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure him or herself.

“Right.”

“And we’re adults.”

“It would appear so.”

“We’re just being silly,” Harper reasoned. “It’s just sleep.”

She could see his dimple again. At least he was amused. She nodded finally. “Okay, I’m going to go change.”

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, careful to gently dry the bruised side. She didn’t even look at the rest of her body. Judging from how sore everything was, it was probably just as purple as her face.

It was a good thing this wasn’t some “first time” with someone like Luke. She wasn’t at her best — maybe even hovering near her worst. And if she was going to have a first time with someone like Luke she’d want it to be perfect.

She rolled her eyes and tugged the t-shirt over her head and down her torso. It was ridiculous to be newly homeless and jobless and more concerned with the what-ifs of imaginary sex with the sculpted captain. She wondered what he looked like in uniform.

“Pull yourself together,” she muttered. “It’s one platonic night of sleep.”

She ran a hand over the cotton and took a moment to be grateful for remembering to wear underwear today.

Harper tugged the neck of the shirt up to her nose and breathed deeply. It smelled like him. And she was about to crawl into a bed that smelled like him ... with him. She hoped she could control herself in her sleep.

She was standing at the foot of the bed, fidgeting, when he came back upstairs.

“Everything okay?” he asked, opening a dresser drawer.

“Oh, yeah. I just didn’t know if you had a side,” she said, playing with the hem of the shirt.

He suddenly seemed very interested in the contents of the drawer. “A side?”

“Of the bed. Do you sleep on a side?”

He glanced back up. “I usually sleep in the middle. So you can take your pick.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Luke grabbed a pair of pajama pants. “I’ll be back.”

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Harper gratefully flopped onto the bed and burrowed under the covers. She would just hug the edge and he wouldn’t even know she was there. No inconvenience at all.

She hoped she wouldn’t snore.

The bathroom door opened. He stood in the doorway in nothing but untied flannel pants that rode low on his hips. Harper wet her lips and tried not to stare at his cut abs. Every visible inch of his torso was carved, muscled, and freaking hot. There was another tattoo, a phoenix, over his heart.

Oh my God. She was going to sleep with
that
.

No! She was not going to fall down the rabbit hole of crappy life choices again. She had promised herself that she was turning over a new leaf. Starting fresh, focusing on herself.

Harper was failing at not focusing on Luke’s naked chest. Her fingers itched to trail over the tattoo, across his chest and down those abs to the indecently low waistband. She fisted her naughty-minded hands in the quilt. There was no way she was going to sleep a wink. Not next to that perfect body.

He was staring at her, too, but his eyes weren’t bugging out of his head like hers. Harper thought she heard him sigh. But he moved towards the bedroom door and wordlessly flipped the light switch.

In the dark, Harper was relieved she had nothing to stare at. Until she felt his weight on the other side of the bed.

He seemed to have the same idea she did, hugging his side.

“Good night,” she whispered into the darkness.

“Night.”

“Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for letting me stay here.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“Harper?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

L
uke woke suddenly in the middle of the night feeling warm. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He heard breathing and remembered he wasn’t alone. Harper’s head was resting on his shoulder, her hand splayed across his chest. Her thigh was drawn up and across his legs.

It had been a very long time since he woke up to a woman draped over him. He automatically squashed the memory. He was good at that. Staying focused on the present. That’s how he got through every single day.

Harper made a little sound like a sigh and nuzzled closer.

The woman was a disaster. She had invaded his night and now his bed. It was taking an act of supreme willpower not to roll over and wake her up in the way his body was demanding.

Harper. It was an old-fashioned name for such a free spirit. He had already been heading in Glenn’s direction when he saw the blonde blur launch herself at him. It was incredibly stupid of her to get involved like that. Anyone with common sense would have just called for help.

But not Harper. She went in swinging. If tonight was any indication of how she lived her life, it was a miracle she was still alive.

There was no doubt that she was beautiful. Those wide gray eyes didn’t miss a beat and her full mouth always seemed to be smiling. And judging from the feel of her body plastered against him, she was built with the soft curves that commanded a man’s hand to follow them. She had an energy that seemed to be trying to explode out of her at every second.

She was not a restful, careful person. He had known her for only a few hours and was already concerned for her safety.

No job. No home. No money. According to Soph, Harper was screwed. She probably didn’t even have a plan. Someone who stormed out of her own life with nothing but car keys didn’t sound like much of a planner.

He would talk to her in the morning. Find out what she was going to do and then talk her out of whatever ridiculous scheme she came up with. He’d help her whether she wanted it or not.

Luke clenched his jaw in the dark as Harper slid her leg higher up his thighs and murmured something into his neck.

***

H
arper woke up to sunlight streaming through the window onto her face. She tried to stretch but found her arms trapped.

Luke.

Hot and hard against her, he was spooning her. His breath was warm in her hair. An inked arm was thrown possessively over her, hand cupping her breast through the t-shirt that was now bunched up around her waist. Her ass was pressed against some impressive morning wood.

Now this was the way to wake up. Warm, safe, and wrapped in strong arms.

She pressed her lips together to stop the laughter that bubbled up inside. She had been the one worried about not controlling herself.

He twitched in his sleep, squeezing her breast.

Harper bit her lip. She didn’t know Luke well, but she was fairly certain he wouldn’t like waking up in such a ... vulnerable position.

She was going to have to sneak out. After she enjoyed this for another thirty seconds.

She nuzzled in and breathed in his scent. His chest rose rhythmically against her back, his hard thighs cradling her.

She deserved a medal for leaving this bed. She held her breath and gently pried his hand off her chest. Holding up Luke’s arm, she inched away from his perfect body. And cursed herself as she did it.

Maneuvering to the edge of the bed, she eased into a sitting position.

Even in his sleep, Luke was sexy. Inky long lashes brushed his sculpted cheekbones. Except for those lashes, there was nothing delicate about him. He was built with power and strength. She let her gaze linger on the lines of his arm. The sinewy muscle of his biceps gave way to the sensual ink on his forearm.

She would have to ask him what it meant. A little conversation on their trip would help keep her mind off the memory of waking up with him pressed against her.

Feeling like she had been hit by a small car, Harper gingerly snuck down to the kitchen where she started a pot of coffee before opening the fridge. Considering the state of the rest of his house — there was nothing but a stack of boxes in the dining room — she didn’t have high hopes for a bachelor’s kitchen inventory, but was happy to find eggs one day away from expiration, milk, cheese and the remains of a loaf of bread. Scrambled egg sandwiches would start the day off.

The swelling in her face had gone down, thankfully. But the bruising had gotten uglier. Everything else ached. She had even discovered a baseball-sized bruise on her butt cheek. Hopefully that ham-fisted asshole was crying like a baby in a cell somewhere and Gloria had gotten her first good night’s sleep in years.

Harper found Luke’s laptop on the counter and, as the eggs cooked, checked Craigslist for job listings in Fremont. There were a few that would do, at least temporarily. It was almost a shame that she didn’t know someone here in Benevolence. The sleepy town and its nosy residents gave off a good vibe. No one could be lonely here.

But the job market was probably nonexistent. Besides, Harper thought as she rummaged for sugar, if she stayed, she would make a fool of herself over Luke.

And who wouldn’t? He was hot, protective, and those eyes. “Definitely a bad idea,” she murmured to herself.

“Do you always talk to yourself when you cook?” The room got warmer and the air cracklier when Luke walked in.

She glanced up from the frying pan to where he stood near the refrigerator, studying her. He still wore the pajama pants, but had added a t-shirt. Damn.