Chapter Fifteen
Cassidy
I pin the Amtrak’s lobby door in place with my body. “After you.”
Luke passes without so much as a sideways glance, and he barely slows to wait for me as he barrels forward.
My heels echo off the tile as I dart after him. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”
He wheels around. Flooded with the last vestiges of daylight pouring in through massive windows, he looks otherworldly, like a leaner Hercules with his tan skin and golden hair. Maybe it’s because this train station looks like it was snagged from Disney’s animated Mount Olympus, all white and pearlescent.
“Hm?” He runs his hand through his hair, a move I’m starting to associate with Acute Luke Stress. “Fire?”
“You charged this place like it was the last hundred meters of a race. Or, I don’t know, the opening of Comic-Con, and you are decked from head-to-toe in a costume you can’t wait to show off. Choose your own adventure.”
“I will never forgive Will for telling you about cosplay.”
My smile is triumphant. “C’mon, let’s go print our tickets. The kiosks are over—”
“Wait.” He stops and points overhead. “Look.”
The arrivals and departures board above the customer service counter flashes bold and bright.
Kansas City to L.A. Union Station
Weather Delay- La Plata
Now boarding 2:39 a.m.
No. No, no, no.
I bury my face in my hands.
Inhale, exhale. Count to ten.
When I resurface, Luke is parked next to me, arms crossed as he studies the board.
“This can’t be happening.” My head tips back. “No freaking way. Not this, too.”
“Let’s take a breath—”
“I can’t.” I drop to a squat, the weight of the entire day settling on my shoulders and driving me into the ground. The Earth’s core. The magma, where I will happily melt into my simplest form—
“Easy there. No need to throw yourself on the ground over this. It’s going to be okay.” Luke’s tone is tired but not nearly strained enough for my liking.
“Okay? How is this okay?” My hands rake my hair and grip the roots. “Isabelle is going to kill me. And then my mother is going to reanimate my corpse and kill me again.”
“This is unfortunate, yes, but it only put us a few hours behind—”
“A few hours when it’s already a billion hours past when I was supposed to be there! You don’t understand, Luke.” Hot, traitorous tears prick the corners of my eyes as I stand back up to face him. “I’ve been silver-lining this whole thing pretty hard because, well, what choice do I have? But I don’t know if I can handle one more setback. I’ve done just about everything I can from the road to make sure this is the wedding of my sister’s dreams, but the rest has to be done in person. And to keep my mother…never mind, just…I hate this.”
Luke’s arms rise and fall, rise and fall again, then finally land on my shoulders. “This isn’t ideal.”
“Why aren’t you more upset? Isn’t your family waiting for you?”
His mouth twitches and his hands fall away. “They don’t know I’m coming. It’s—I guess it’s a surprise. Not at all the same as what you’re experiencing. As for your sister, it’s pretty evident you’ve done everything you can to get home and be helpful. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“I don’t know. Feels like I could’ve done something more or better.”
“I can’t possibly see how. You’re calling vendors left and right, making arrangements, buying”—he blinks away—“gifts.” His voice snags on the word.
Heat creeps over my skin. The tiny black shopping bag in my hand suddenly weighs a thousand pounds. A lifetime won’t be long enough to forget that Luke caught me sizing lingerie. I certainly could do without him mentioning it.
After my sister lamented that Mikael wasn’t noticing her during our airport call, I’ve been mulling over gifts to help boost her confidence. I’m certain she’ll love and appreciate what I picked, as well as the fact that I tested it to make sure it’ll fit.
But I didn’t anticipate an ambush in the form of a flesh-and-blood man while I was trying it on.
Luke, right on the other side of the curtain. His deep, problem-solving voice vibrating in the air as I undressed.
A pulse of heat in my core jolts me.
“Fine,” I say, an edge to my voice that has nothing to do with trains. I lace my hands behind my back, hiding the bag from view. “The delay won’t kill us. And I’ve handled what wedding stuff I can for today, you’re right.”
“I never tire of hearing that.”
My eye roll probably registers on the Richter scale. “You’re a menace.”
“It’s just a few hours. We’ll be fine.”
“A calm, level-headed terror,” I grumble under my breath.
“We’ll use this time to regroup. We’ll…” He trails off and buffs his glasses with his shirt.
I chew the inside of my cheek. A new problem presents itself in the form of what the heck do we do now?
“We’ll…sleep?” I ask. “In those chairs?”
He grimaces and flashes me his sharp jawline as he looks toward the sitting area. “If you want to sit here, that’s what we’ll do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Fast forward in time eight hours, preferably. But since we can’t, I’m open to whatever you want to do.”
I sigh as defeat washes over me. “I guess we can’t sit here for eight hours. There’s got to be another option.”
He cuts a hesitant look at the massive glass doors. “What do you have in mind?”
…
Our taxi driver may be in need of night-time glasses or contacts.
I throw a protective hand in front of my stack of Walmart bags as he slams brakes for the fifth time.
Luke glares miserably at the seat between us. “This feels unnecessary.”
“Would you stop sulking? Shopping was a necessary evil. We needed all this.”
Luke tosses me a pointed stare. “Not the stuff. I just don’t think we needed to hike across the city. We could’ve gotten everything we needed downtown and stayed close to the station.”
“The heart of downtown Kansas City doesn’t have Walmarts, Luke. Or maybe they do, heck if I know, but hotels downtown cost almost double in every city. Indisputable fact. This five-mile taxi ride is an expense I’m fine with, if it means proximity to a cheap motel.”
“But we’ll have to taxi back—”
“Don’t you want to get out of those pants?” I snap my head toward him, color creeping into my cheeks. “I mean…into something more comfortable?”
“I’m fine with these.” He pats his thighs affectionately, which continue to be hugged to death by his dress pants, as they were the last time I accidentally ogled them. “Would’ve worn these clothes for the rest of the trip. Comfy.”
“Too bad. Now you have jeans.”
“Oh, I know. I was there, too.”
“Would’ve been faster if you just told me your size up front. Would’ve saved us a lot of time.”
“I cherished that time, arguing about clothes with you in the aisles,” he deadpans. “Might scrapbook about it later.”
The ensuing silence pokes me in between each rib individually until I am squirming in my seat.
He leans his cheek against his headrest. The lights of the city blur behind him. “In all seriousness, thanks for buying me jeans. And the other things. That was—”
I saw my lips together, waiting for the second half of this. The snarky jab. His eyes cut a path across my face, pausing on my mouth.
“—nice.” My lips tingle as his gaze flits up to meet mine. “Really nice.”
“Oh. You’re welcome.” My stomach flips, like he’s thrust me in the spotlight and I haven’t had time to rehearse.
Alarm bells ring in my head the longer I look at him.
I should stop.
Because sure, Luke looks like a Calvin Klein model, with a jaw that jaws exactly as it should, faintly hollowed cheeks, rich honey hazel eyes that all work together to give him Resting Brooding Face. Like Resting Bitch Face, but hotter.
And yes, his soft pout could be described as kissable.
Not to mention the glasses. Hoo boy, they don’t hurt. This man shirtless and in glasses, with joggers slung low, would send a girl into cardiac arrest.
But to look at this man is to remember every other man before him. The ones who think they want you until they get to know you—or think they know you. The ones who chew you up and spit you out like a plaything the second you sleep with them. Or more commonly, in my case, the ones who never give you the time of day in the first place.
The Ones Who Came Before, who didn’t even hold a candle to Luke in the handsome department.
Imagine how much damage Resting Brooding Face would do if I let myself entertain anything with him.
Which I’m not. The term heartbreaker exists for a reason.
I force my gaze off his face and cross my legs. “You’re lucky I didn’t go for the pajama bottoms. Could’ve made you ride the Amtrak in plaid.”
“Again, I think I’d just wear these.” He gestures at his pants.
“I’ll be burning those in the hotel room as a ritual sacrifice to the travel gods so they lay off of us.”
The room. Singular.
My implication hangs between us, suspended in the musty air.
He doesn’t question it. I don’t correct him, because am I buying two rooms? We’ve already shared an airport floor and we know we aren’t even in the same stratosphere as A Thing. It’s a situation of convenience.
Plus, I can’t forget the money I’ve earmarked for next week.
I probably should suggest one room. It’s the mature thing to do. Fiscally responsible, even. He’ll be proud.
At this point, I don’t know if I’m trying to convince myself or how I’ll convince him.
“And what other articles of clothing will you be burning this evening?” he asks, interrupting my spiraling, the gravel edge returning to his tone.
Exhaustion really does a number on that voice.
My gaze roams his face as streetlamps provide intermittent pulses of light. “Probably something of mine, for the sake of equality. Probably these jeans that I am extremely tired of. I got myself a pair of yoga pants. My favorite article of clothing ever invented. Soft. Comfortable. If someone were to cosplay me, they’d wear these pants.”
His jaw ticks as he turns toward the driver. “So yeah, any motel is fine.”
Our driver, Lugo, has a tight bun tied on top of his head. It pokes above his headrest. “There’s a can’t-miss KC tourist spot just ahead. Mile or so up the road. Wait. You two have any weird fears or phobias?”
I angle my body so I can see Lugo in the rearview mirror. “Like…fears related to hotels?”
Only a sliver of his face is visible. His eyes crinkle with amusement as he answers. “Yeah, this motel isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But I think it’s rad.”
I tent my hands and turn to Luke. “We gotta.”
“Is it a themed Holiday Inn or something?” Luke asks. “Or a Budget Inn?”
“It’s called you’ll see.”
At this, Luke cocks his head sideways, curiosity etched in his tired eyes, and mouths, What?
I shrug. Lugo likes to play coy, apparently.