Drunk on Love(55)

“Agreed,” Luke said. “Let’s do that again. The next time you need to work on the conspiracy wall. We’re here for you, Margot.”

He turned and met her eyes just before walking out of her office.

“Brilliant, huh?” he said under his breath.

She had said that to him, hadn’t she?

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, trying not to smile.

He didn’t even try.

“Oh, don’t worry. It already has.”



* * *





THE NEXT MONDAY MORNING, Luke left home earlier than usual so he could drop by his mom’s place with flowers for her birthday on his way to work.

Craig had texted him again today. They’d texted a few times over the past week—just about what was going on with him, how Craig was doing, stuff like that. It was sort of weird, to get reminders of his old job. He hadn’t been gone for even two months, but it felt like forever. Especially after working at the winery, which felt so different from his old job. He felt so different about it. Like, he was eager to get to work, every single day. It almost felt . . . too easy? Too good?

Of course, he knew part of the reason he was eager to get to work every day was Margot. He’d worried that things with her would be awkward after their car-ride confessions on Sunday, that she’d be stiff and uncomfortable with him, like on his first day at work. He’d been embarrassed that he’d told her how he felt about quitting his old job—he was still embarrassed about that. Would she be self-conscious about talking to him like she had? But on Monday, she’d smiled at him like she was happy to see him, and he’d smiled back in the same way, because he sure as hell was happy to see her. And then she’d called him brilliant in her office that day. Ever since, things had been easy between them. Friendly. Good.

I hate this, too.

Had she meant that when she’d said it? Really meant it? He had. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. Because as much as he loved working at the winery, he hated that it meant nothing could happen between him and Margot. If she even wanted anything to happen, which he had no real idea about.

He shook thoughts of Margot away as he parked a few doors down from his mom’s house.

When he knocked on the door, Pete opened it.

“Oh good, you’re here,” he said, and turned and walked toward the living room.

That was a weird reaction.

“Hey, Mom. Happy . . .” His voice trailed away as he saw his mom, sitting on the couch, her arm in a blue cast. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She looked startled to see him, and then smiled at him like nothing was wrong.

“Oh, Luke, look at those flowers! They’re beautiful! Thank you!”

He set the flowers down on the coffee table.

“Oh no, don’t put them there, you should get them in some water, the vases are in the—”

“Forget the flowers,” Luke said. “What happened?”

“Oh.” She looked away from him. “Nothing major, it’s really no big deal. I’m fine, I really am.”

He looked at Pete, who shook his head.

“Lauren.”

His mom sighed.

“I really am fine.”

“Mom.” Luke sat down next to her, and she winced. Shit, he should have sat down a lot slower. “Why is your arm in a cast?”

“I got in a—very minor—car accident last night. That’s all.”

“What?” He stood back up, and his mom winced again. This time he moved to the other side of the room. “You got in a car accident, and no one told me?”

“It was late at night,” she said. “I was going to call you this morning.”

“I wanted to call you last night, but your mother didn’t want you to worry,” Pete said. “I’d just finished telling her she had to call you this morning when you got here.”

“It really was very minor!” his mother said. “Someone making a left turn hit me, they weren’t going that fast, I’m fine! I just have a broken wrist, that’s all.”

“And a totaled car,” Pete said.

She glared at him.

“We don’t know the car is totaled.” She turned to Luke. “Just because the airbag went off, Pete thinks it must be. Anyway, I’m going to be fine. And I was going to call you this morning, I just had to call Beth to make sure she could get to the inn early today since I won’t be in.”

“Or for the next month,” Pete said.

Luke turned to Pete.

“Month?”

“Pete, I really don’t think—”

Pete broke in.

“The doctor said that she shouldn’t drive for three weeks minimum, maybe six weeks. Or more. It’s more than just a broken wrist, she has a few sprained ribs, too.” Pete glared at Luke’s mom. “And she said you had to rest.”

“I know,” his mom said, “but I have the inn, and while Beth is lovely, and I like her so much, she’s still new. I have to be on hand to do all of the hard stuff. I’m just not confident enough in her, that’s all.”

Pete shook his head.

“Well, you need to get confident. I don’t want you to run yourself down, Lauren.” He turned to Luke. “Your mother wants me to drop her off at the inn every day. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”