Wicked Sexy Liar (Wild Seasons #4)(82)
I hadn’t counted on stories about doll salons and shopping with his mother. I hadn’t expected him to be so attentive and charming. I hadn’t expected the sex to be so good in part because he was so genuinely into me. And I never, not in a million years, expected him to say he loved me.
That last one takes me by surprise all over again and I’m momentarily frozen, blinking away the water as it runs down my face. I’m not sure what to do with something like that. Luke is twenty-three and used to f*cking whoever he wants. It’s hard to silence the voice telling me he’s simply infatuated. That he’s forgotten how infatuation can feel a lot like love.
I ignore the way the admission twists my stomach and shut off the water, reaching for a towel before climbing out.
The air is cold on my damp skin, and it reminds me of a morning I’d gone to visit Justin our junior year. He’d been up late studying the night before and was asleep when I got there after closing out the late shift at work. I took a shower and wrapped myself in a towel, realizing I’d forgotten my toothbrush. I opened the drawer, thinking I’d just use his. There was a purple toothbrush there, right beside his familiar blue one. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but much later I realized of course it was Ashley’s, the girl he’d been sleeping with for almost two years by then.
That memory circles around in my head as I stand at Luke’s bathroom counter, looking up at my reflection and telling myself for the thousandth time that not every guy is Justin. Luke is not Justin. Not every guy cheats.
It’s just so hard to break the instinct to keep my arms locked over my chest, guarding my heart.
There’s no way I’m looking for Luke’s toothbrush. Instead, I do my best to make some order of my hair and brush my teeth with my finger and a tube of toothpaste on the counter.
With a towel wrapped securely around my body, I open the door, intent on finding my clothes and getting home, maybe even trying to slip out before he wakes up.
But walking down the hall toward the bathroom door is his sister.
“Margot. Hi.”
Margot, the one he was talking to last night. The sister who more than likely spent the night listening to us having sex.
She stops, meeting my eyes. “London. Hey, I didn’t know you were up.” She looks like she got only marginally more sleep than I did.
I adjust my towel. “Just needed a shower. You’re up early.”
A slow, teasing smile spreads across her face. “Actually, I never really went to sleep.”
I groan a little.
She laughs. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Want some coffee?”
I look back toward Luke’s room, where the door is still pulled shut, and nod. “Sure.”
“Sweet. Let me use the bathroom, and I’ll meet you in there.”
She steps around me and closes the door, and I walk down the hall to the kitchen.
The sun is just starting to come up, the sky beginning to brighten on the other side of the window. I’ve been here enough times to know where Luke keeps his dishes and I pull two mugs down from the cupboard, opening doors until I find the coffee. I hear the toilet flush and the water run in the sink and then Margot is there, her taller form hovering beside me as she reaches for the filters.
She looks so much like Luke that it’s a little unnerving. They share the same thick dark hair, the same full brows and perfect cheekbones. But it’s the intensity of their gaze that’s the most pronounced. If I thought Luke was intimidating before he smiles, he has nothing on his sister.
We stand in silence while the coffeemaker gurgles and hisses in the background, and I search my mind for things to say, an icebreaker that doesn’t begin with I’m sorry I kept you up because I was so loudly banging your brother.
The scent of fresh coffee fills the air and when the machine chimes to signal it’s done, it spurs me into action. “So you live closer to campus?” I ask.
She nods, holding out her mug for me to fill. “I still come over to hassle him when I need to. Maybe do some laundry or steal his towels to take to the beach.” She pulls back her full mug with a quiet “Thanks,” eyes dropping down to my body briefly. “That’s a nice one, by the way. One of my favorites.”
I follow her gaze and realize I’m still wearing Luke’s Stone Brewery towel. “Oh, boy,” I say with an embarrassed smile. “I’m practically naked. In your brother’s kitchen.”
She waves me off. “Are you kidding? That’s the tamest thing I’ve seen here first thing in the morning.” Margot looks momentarily horrified with what she’s just said, but I smile, trying to hide the way my heart and lungs take a nosedive into my belly.
“Yeah, well,” I say, floundering. “I was just going to get dressed and head home when I ran into you.”
“Ahh.” She slips a piece of bread into the toaster and adds, “Were you going to leave without telling him?”
There’s a hint of protective big sister in her tone, and while I get it, I’m not really sure how to balance that against the scores of possibly naked shenanigans she’s just alluded to.
I really like Margot: we share the same hobby in teasing Luke, and my friends absolutely adore her, but after talking to Harlow and Lola two days ago, I’m more and more convinced that I don’t have to explain myself, or what’s happening between her brother and me to anyone, even her.