Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(81)

Our mouths break free, and we lock wide eyes. From this vantage point, all I can spot are a pair of black-and-white polka-dot rain boots. I’m guessing the woman can’t see us. I’m hoping she couldn’t hear us. We both press our lips together and keep quiet and still as she calls out, “Hello?” again.

A long moment later, the rain boots begin shuffling down the path at an easy pace. I see my navy purse dangling next to them. “Shit, she has my camera and my phone and—” My words are cut off with a gasp as Luke pushes into me, his mouth against my ear. “Don’t worry, we’ll go get it back in a minute.”

“Only a minute?” I tease between ragged breaths. My eyes close as he fills me completely, until the raindrops don’t graze my face anymore, and the branches don’t scratch at my legs, and the cold, wet ground doesn’t touch my skin.

Until I’m consumed by the feel of Luke.

“Thank you so much. I must have set it on the bench and somehow forgot it when it started raining.” I check inside to find everything there, including half a sandwich.

“Eating is expressly forbidden in the gardens, you know.” Black-and-white polka-dot rain boots woman—the same woman who smiles and waves when I come here—now peers over her glasses at me, her tight bun making her look all the more severe.

“Oh, I know. That’s just there for later.”

“Right.” A sniff of disapproval escapes her as her eyes trail down my clothes—soaking wet. That’s fine. I was in the rain, without a proper rain jacket or umbrella. That’s what happens.

“Well, thank you for keeping it safe.” I don’t look back once as Luke and I walk hand-in-hand back to the parking lot. That’s when Luke bursts out laughing.

“It’s not that funny.” But I can’t keep the smile off my face.

“Actually it is. You should see yourself.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not looking so spectacular right now, either.” That’s a flat-out lie. Even with his hair plastered against his forehead and neck in wisps, and his shirt clinging to his body, blood still races through my limbs every time I think about touching him.

“But at least I’m not covered in dirt.” Reaching behind me, he begins picking off leaves and grass. Some twigs. “I guess rain doesn’t make everything clean, does it.”

“Shit.” I peer down at the back of my skirt. It looks like I was rolling around in mud, which is basically what I was doing. “Do you think she knew?”

He laughs. “I’m guessing she has a pretty good idea.”

“Awesome.” I shake my head but smile. “I guess I won’t be doing my next photography assignment here.”

Chapter 43

LUKE

I interlace my fingers through Rain’s as we weave through a thick crowd at The Cellar, the deep bass vibrating through my chest as usual. Though I’ve taken plenty of women out, I’ve never brought one in.

But Rain’s different.

“Trust me, there’s no need to be nervous. You’re gonna love Rust.”

Her broad smile sprouts those sexy dimples. “If he’s anything like you then I don’t doubt it. I just hope he likes me. I mean, he’s basically your dad.”

“He’d have to be insane not to love you.” She’s wearing dark red lipstick tonight. I can’t wait to take her home and let her cover my body with it, something I normally never like.

Passing the bar, I catch Priscilla watching us from behind a wall of customers. I’m sure she’s figured out by now that it’s over between us. I’d be surprised if she cares. A quick glance down sees Rain’s big blue eyes in that general direction. I wonder if she’s put two-and-two together.

I speed up, passing by the stocky bouncer watching over the VIP section to land in our typical booth. “Rust!”

“Well . . . well . . .” As usual, Rust’s on his feet immediately, patting my back as he always does, before turning his attention to Rain. “So you are the lady stealing all of my nephew’s time lately.” I don’t blame him for doing a lightning-speed appraisal of her. I did too, when she stepped out of her condo in this creamy, tight lace dress, the sleeves long but the dress short enough to give me an instant hard-on the minute she climbed into my SUV.

She dips her head, smiling. “Not all of it.” Eyes dart to me, twinkling. “Some.”

“Please.” He holds an arm out toward the booth. Rain slides in, spiking my adrenaline yet again as I see those mile-high legs in full view. “Drinks?” Rust snaps his fingers at a nearby waitress while pouring a glass of vodka from the bottle he never sits down without.

As Rain gives her order, Rust is busy flashing approving eyebrows my way. That’s a good start. “So, Rain, Luke tells me you moved here from D.C. not long ago?”

They go back and forth for the next fifteen minutes, Rust asking her questions about her life, her family, her plans. She answers him with the grace and ease of someone who’s practiced the words, no signs of the nerves she told me about earlier.

Suddenly, Rust squints as if thinking hard. “You know, you look familiar. I can’t quite figure it out.”

“Do I?” She frowns at me. “I don’t know why I would. I just moved to Portland.”