Wicked Sexy Liar (Wild Seasons #4)(17)

“Easy, tiger.”

Luke laughs, sending little bursts of warm air across my skin. “I meant in more of a general sense but, yeah. That, too, obviously,” he says, gently squeezing my hip before he steps back and toward the door. Goose bumps make their way across my body and I try to hide a shiver.

Luke Sutter is going to be trouble.





Chapter FOUR


Luke

“DO YOU NEED me to send them?”

For a beat, I think I haven’t heard Margot correctly, but knowing my sister, odds are I have.

I pull into a parking spot, shut off the ignition, and put my phone to my ear when my car’s Bluetooth disconnects. “Do I need you to mail my law school applications?”

“It’s just that the bulk of them are due Tuesday,” she continues, “and—”

“Margot—”

“—the post office is just down from here so it’s easy for—”

“Margot.” I cut her off as gently as possible. “Seriously. I can handle this. Everything is all taken care of. Listen, I just got off work and am starving. Can we talk later?”

“I’m just excited for you,” she says, mildly sheepish now. “Your application is so strong. I know I’m being super-controlling, but it’s such a big deal . . .”

I sigh, nodding. I’m lucky to have such an involved older sister, but there are days I want her to have just a few more things in her life to distract her from living mine as well. “I know, Gogo.”

She quiets, sighing as the name I’ve used for as long as I can remember makes her stop and take a breath. “Do you feel ready for all of this?” she asks. “It’s only a few months left here and then somewhere new.”

“Unless I go to UCSD.”

“But you won’t. I know you. I can tell you want to move.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I think I’m ready for a change.” We’ve had this conversation a hundred times—maybe more—and I do want to prepare her for the chance that I’ll be across the country this time next year. Margot gives me more shit than everyone else in my life combined, but she’s still my best friend. Staying close to her is really the only argument for going to UCSD Law next year. “I mean, sometimes it’s overwhelming. Like, yesterday—”

“Wait, let me conference in Mom.”

I sit up in my seat, eyes wide. “For the love of God, why?”

But she’s already gone.

I stare around the parking lot—home of the most delicious Mexican food in my neighborhood, and where I hope is also the location of my dinner sometime in the near future—and watch a handful of seagulls fight over a few scraps of tortilla someone has thrown their way. My stomach growls.

Two seconds later I hear the line click, and Margot asks, “Everyone here?”

“Yeah,” I mumble.

“Here,” Mom says brightly. “What’s going on, Bubbles?”

Mothers and nicknames. Honestly.

“Nothing,” I say. “I honestly have no idea why I’m not eating dinner right now instead of having a conference call.”

“Luke was nervous about applications,” Margot says.

“Margot, I swear I’m not nervous!” I tell her. “They’re all done.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, honey! Did you mail them?” Mom asks, and I groan.

“They’re due Tuesday,” my mother and sister remind me in unison.

“Funny thing,” I say. “I dressed myself this morning. Had breakfast. Managed to get to work without any help at—”

“It’s easy for me or Daddy to take them down,” Mom says over me.

“Or me,” Margot adds.

“I even shaved without incident,” I tell them, but I know they’re not listening to me.

“Luker,” Margot says, completely undeterred, “did you ever apologize to Mia?”

Oh, my evil bitch of a sister.

“Mia Holland?” Mom asks.

Margot confirms with a chirped, “Yep.”

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose and muttering, “Jesus Christ.”

“Why does he need to apologize to Mia?” Mom presses.

I shake my head. “I should never tell you anything, Margot.”

My sister laughs. “As if you could keep a secret from me.”

“Luke,” Mom interjects, “what happened with Mia?”

“Tell her,” Margot urges.

I let my head thump back against the headrest and try to quickly figure out how much I really want to talk about this right now. I know they’re invested. They truly love Mia, and always will. But life moves on. We’ve moved on.

Mia was my best friend. We didn’t just share our first kiss and first touch and lose our virginity to each other—we were f*cking in love. She was calm and quiet; I was outgoing and sometimes wild. She knew me better than I knew myself and that’s so f*cking clichéd, but it’s the reality. I told her everything, and if I didn’t tell her something it was only because she already figured it out on her own. That kind of shorthand came from knowing each other as kids and growing up in synch. We shared history. Any other woman coming into my life would get the abbreviated version of me, but get held up to the same yardstick. And I know that, at least for now, any other woman would fail. It wouldn’t be fair.