Stealing Home(37)

“To drop off your car?”

His shoulders lifted. “And to go shopping. Remember? Me and the girls. At the mall all day.”

I exhaled. “I don’t know, Luke.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Plus, if you expect me to follow-through on my promise to keep my leg elevated all day, that means I’ll be in a wheelchair, which means shopping will be spatially challenging.”

I made a face at him. “Spatially challenging?”

“Have you ever been in those teen girl stores?” He waited like he was expecting an answer. I didn’t think my abundance of team polos and khakis required an answer to that. “I can barely fit as a bi-ped. Definitely won’t be able to as a four-wheeler with an appendage hanging out.”

“Speaking of appendages . . .”

His smile twisted as his eyes dropped to his crotch. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“How is your leg?” I said around a sigh. Luke had a one-track mind that was always heading in the same direction—between my legs.

“Better than my dick right now,” he muttered, looking so dejected I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

As he started shoving the door open, sliding down the seat to leave, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. One I hoped I wouldn’t regret.

“Luke?” When he glanced back over his shoulder, I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

All signs of dejection disappeared instantly. “Really?”

Instead of overthinking it, I listened to what my heart was telling me. “Really.”





FROM THE SOUNDS I could hear coming from the other side of the door, it sounded like an entire mob of sorority sisters had taken over Luke’s apartment. Some over-played, under-talented band’s song was blaring, a couple of girls’ voices joining in during the chorus. The sound of a blow dryer could be made out in the background, and I just heard someone close to panic levels shrieking about their missing tube of mascara.

It even smelled like a sorority house—or walking past the threshold of a Bath and Body Works and getting plowed over by the array of scents blasting out.

Thinking of Luke inside with three teenage girls who sounded and smelled as though they were fully embracing their teenage state of being made me smile. He came across as such a guy’s guy on and off the field, so hanging with him and his sisters today should be an enlightening experience.

That was part of the reason I’d agreed to it—I wanted to see him in a different element. I wanted to see how he was and who he was with his family. Was the man I knew the same one he was with those he loved the most? If not, who was the real Luke Archer—the one I knew or the one I was about to get a glimpse of?

The other reason I’d agreed was because I knew I would miss him. It was too early on in a relationship to be missing someone, but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to be around him on our days off. It wasn’t just the intimacy I wanted—it was his presence. The energy he exuded, his easy smiles, and the way one look from him could make me feel things in every part of my body.

Managing to maneuver the tank into a parking space in the garage this morning after slogging it back to my place last night, I made my way up to his apartment. A doorman buzzing residents or visitors in was about as fancy as the building got. Never would anyone look at it and think one of the top players in the game of baseball lived here. I loved that he did though. I loved that he drove a decade-old vehicle and lived in the kind of place that appealed to the middle-class of the city. I loved that for Luke, playing was about the sport—not the money and fame that came with it.

When the song changed to one that made me cringe, I heard Luke’s moan of protest from the other side of the door. Good to know neither of us would force the other to listen to this atrocity.

I’d stalled long enough, so I knocked on the door. Luke had mentioned leaving around nine, and it was only a few minutes to. Plus, I had to get him situated in his mode of transportation for the day.

When the door flew open, the first thing the girl’s eyes drifted to was the wheelchair in front of me. Then she busted up.

“Please say that’s for Luke,” she greeted, stepping aside and waving me in.

“It’s for Luke.”

“And all is right in the universe again.” She was the female version of Luke—striking eyes, long caramel-colored hair, and an easy smile. She had a small gold necklace on with her name hanging from it. For a girl who’d just had her heart broken, she looked like it was already healed. To be young again.

“Where is the gimp?”

“Probably hiding in his closet with a pillow wrapped around his head.” She closed the door behind me and padded into the living room.

It looked like a sorority house too. Nail polish bottles were scattered over the end tables, pillows were strewn around like a pillow fight had just gone down, and articles of clothing were hanging and scattered across every stationary surface, including the television.

“Cameron!” she shouted down a hall. “Turn it down! Luke’s trainer is here!” She waited until the volume dialed down. “Sorry, I’m Alex, and you must be Allie.” Her eyes dropped to the wheelchair.

Luke and I had agreed via a quick text this morning to keep our relationship quiet with the girls. To them, I was an athletic trainer for his team and nothing more. That was it. Not because I was worried about them blasting it out there for everyone to know, but because bringing a person into their family circle was a big deal. I didn’t want Luke to introduce me to his sisters as the woman he was seeing until I’d caught up to what was going on between us. Until I could qualify what it was and determine if there was a few-weeks expiration date.