Wicked Sexy Liar (Wild Seasons #4)(70)

I look down at my lap and Luke follows the movement, moving to catch my eyes. “I like that you’re strong and don’t take any of my shit. My sister doesn’t, either, and she’s probably my favorite person in the world.”

His expression falls slightly on this, like it’s not something he was planning to say and the words have surprised him.

I swallow and try to make sense of what I’m feeling, and to explain it to him.

“I like that you’re so unguarded,” I tell him. “That you say what you feel and . . . it doesn’t scare you.”

“It scares me,” he says. “But maybe I’m just happy to be feeling something for the first time in a long time. Or maybe I just hide my fear better.”

“It doesn’t seem like it. It doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of anything,” I tell him. “Except maybe sharks. And jellyfish—”

“There it is,” he says, rolling his eyes while I continue to count off.

“Turtles, starfish, seaweed . . .”

“Logan,” he says, and digs for my ribs.

“Okay, okay.” I squirm away from him. “But even then, I was really impressed. Even scared, you just . . . you did it. You got in the water.”

A beat of silence passes between us and he blinks over to the TV. “Maybe sometimes you just have to,” he says finally. His eyes shift back over to me again, and I don’t think we’re talking about surfing anymore. “Don’t get me wrong, I almost peed my pants out there, but sometimes we all have to stop thinking about what could hurt us and just . . . jump.”

His words hit me like a fist between my ribs because I am scared, and I’m most definitely afraid to jump. Sometimes I see Luke as that guy, the one I watched out for, the type of guy who walked out of a club with another girl the day after having sex with me, whose phone never stops ringing with one booty call after another.

But then he’s jumping into an ocean when it terrifies him and having tea parties, and telling me about this girl he loved so much that he would have done anything for her. He’s doing all of this to spend time with me, and it terrifies me how much I want him, because I’ve been there before and I was so, so wrong.

I know I’ve been quiet too long when Luke clears his throat and shifts next to me.

“Anyway. I was impressed,” I tell him. “It takes a lot to be bigger than your fears.”

He looks at me and smiles and heat slithers like fingers along my spine. “Thanks.”

“And for someone who’d never been on a board, you really kicked some ass.” I realize I’m rambling. I realize I’m stalling.

The air between us is crackling with charge and I don’t know how to deal.

He leans in a bit more and tilts his head to look up at me. “I had a pretty great teacher,” he says.

I shift forward and he’s so close, close enough that I can feel each breath and count the tiny freckles across his nose. He blinks down to my mouth and back up and he’s asking if this is okay, giving me time to close the distance or pull away.

I want to kiss him.

It takes the smallest effort on my part before I feel him, the barest brush of his lips, the slight catch in his breath against my own. He smells like the apple candy he won in a game of Go Fish, and my mouth practically waters, imagining if I’ll taste it on his tongue.

Without thinking I close my eyes and open my mouth and—

Daisy makes a small sound in her sleep and says my name.

We both exhale like we’ve been holding our breath, before he sits back, pushing a hand through his hair. “Am I a terrible person that I would have given her a thousand dollars to sleep for ten more minutes?” he asks.

My heart is pounding in my chest and I laugh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I probably would have gone in for half.”

Luke shifts Daisy into my arms and trades places with me so I can have the arm of the couch before settling back against my side. We don’t talk as we turn back to the movie, and after a few minutes, I feel his finger brush absently along my wrist.

He hasn’t looked away from the screen, and I realize he’s not doing it to get my attention or pull some sort of reaction from me; he’s doing it because he needs to touch me. I wonder if his fingers itch like mine do whenever he’s around, or if he feels the same tug-of-war inside his chest.

I don’t think I’m in control of the nerves that fire and make my hand move, but with my eyes locked straight ahead, I turn my palm over and twist my fingers with his.

He doesn’t say anything, but in my peripheral vision I think I see him smile.

He tightens his grip.

I wonder if he gets that this is my wordless admission that maybe I like him. That he doesn’t completely suck after all.

Daisy is softly snoring with her head resting on my right shoulder, and after only a few moments of hesitation, I feel Luke do the same thing against my left.

The weight of him next to me—so solid and strong—feels comfortable and safe, and soon my own eyelids droop. I sink farther into the couch and into Luke, and fall asleep to the sound of the credits playing.



* * *



IT CAN’T BE long after when the front door opens.

I vaguely hear footsteps and blink several times before I can make out Fred standing in front of me, holding his phone in one outstretched arm.