Chapter 6
Luke
My phone rings from the bedside table, and my eyes open once and then close again, ignoring it for a minute. I'm on my stomach in the middle of the bed with my face down on one of the pillows that smell exactly like her. My cock goes even harder as it presses into the bed and the images of her pushing me down and riding me. I groan in frustration. All fucking night, that is the only thing I dreamed of. It was the only thing in my dreams. Everywhere and nowhere. If I closed my eyes tight enough, I could even hear her calling my name over and over again. My arms wrapped around her waist, her head thrown back as I kissed her throat.
I turn over from the middle of my bed, opening my eyes. The room is still dark, thanks to the blackout curtains I had installed when I moved in. My hand slaps the phone on the side table to shut off the alarm. I take a second to just lie here in the bed, looking up at the ceiling. The same ceiling I spent most of the night looking at, waiting for it to tell me what the hell to do. The same ceiling I focused on when I told her the words that broke me before they broke her. The same ceiling I looked up at while she got up and got dressed, storming out.
Throwing the covers off me, I walk over to the kitchen and start the coffee machine before going to the bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth, running my wet hands through my hair, then slip on some black jeans and a black T-shirt before I walk back into the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee to go. Grabbing my keys and phone, I head out to the garage, pressing the button, then arming the alarm before walking out. The sun hits my eyes right away, and I have to squint a bit. The heat also hits me, making me shake my head. "Nothing like May in the South."
Getting in my truck, I make my way over to the pub, knowing they should be setting up for lunchtime. The meeting is shorter than I thought it would be, and when I get in the truck, the words keep going over and over in my head. "Clarabella has really pushed events our way." The minute they said her name, I was all messed up. It's like I couldn't even concentrate until I spoke to her. Not only did she keep working with my restaurants after I left but she also pushed them big-time. It just didn't make sense to me. Nothing about anything made sense. I knew coming back would be hard for me, but I didn't know it would be this hard. For my whole life, I never connected with anyone, and it was the way I liked it. Until that one night with Clarabella linked me with her on a different level, and I wasn't expecting it.
I pull up in the venue's driveway, knowing this is a bad idea. I even told myself it was a bad idea. I was heading to the restaurant, but my car drove me here. I park where I always used to park behind the venue spot, right off the kitchen. When I pull open the back door, the cold air hits me right away, and I put my aviator sunglasses on the top of my head. My palms are getting a touch sweaty when I think back to all the times I was here. Ignoring the way my heart is beating, I walk into the kitchen, and I have to stop when the memory of the first time I walked into this place comes rushing back to me.
The place had just caught on fire, and she was scrambling to get food for her brother's wedding. The two of us waited in the kitchen after the wedding got canceled, and I stood right in front of her. "So you finally caved and called me." I had to put my hands in my back pockets, or I would have been tempted to lean in and touch the curl in front of her face. It was a perfect curl, also one that you could have stuck your finger right through.
"I was at the bottom of the barrel." She didn't back down from me when I stared into her crystal blue eyes. I couldn't help but laugh. I took a step closer to her, her lips calling out to me to kiss her, but Travis walked into the kitchen, and in that split second, the moment was over.
"Just say what you need to say and leave," I tell myself and walk into the venue space. It's usually filled with tables and decorations. But this time, it's empty except for a table in the middle of the room. I look around, seeing if anyone is here because someone is usually always walking around doing something. But for once, it's eerily quiet. All you can hear is my boots on the wooden floor.
I walk over to the round table in the middle of the room. The champagne-colored tablecloth hits all the way to the floor. The gold chairs around the table have a sheer ivory sheet over the back, and it's tied with the same color ribbon as the table. White plates fill the table with white napkins in the middle with a ribbon tied to it. It looks fancy as fuck, especially with one crystal champagne glass, a wineglass, a water glass, and another shot glass. The ivory flowers in the middle of the table complete the look. I'm so entranced by the table I don't hear the heels clicking until they are in the same room as me.
My eyes fly up when I feel eyes on me, and I see her standing there looking at me. "Sorry, I came in from the back." I point to the back of the kitchen. My heart goes crazy in my chest at her appearance. If I thought she was sexy before, fuck, she upped her game since I've been gone. Her hair is a touch shorter than it was the last time. The front is moved to the side and tucked behind her ear.
"What are you doing here?" She doesn't move from her spot, and to be honest, I'm afraid to move from my spot. Thinking that one move and she'll just be gone.
"I came by so we can talk." I put my hands in my back pockets so she doesn't see them shake.
"Nothing to talk about," she says. "You can let yourself out the same way you came in." She turns to walk out of the room.
"Clarabella." I say her name, and she stops. I can tell she's pissed just by the way her shoulders go square. She turns, and the ice-blue eyes that I once loved looking into, well, if looks could kill, I would be dead. "I really think we need to talk."
"There is not one thing in this world that I want to talk to you about, Luke," she deadpans.
"You are still using my restaurants as your primary vendor." I never move my eyes from her.
"Okay, and?" she says.
"Why?" I ask the question I've been asking myself since Mikaela told me about how much she works with her. "After everything that went down."
"Nothing went down," she retorts, making me pissed. "It was a mistake." The words cut me to the core, and it serves me right since those were the words I told her. Nothing was a mistake, my head screams.
"I'm back now.” I wait to see if her face changes, but it doesn't. It just stays the same with the big shield up, and I fucking hate it. But then again, I put it there. It's there because of me.
"I don't see what that matters." She folds her arms over her chest. "Working with Mikaela is easy, and the two of us mesh well."
"With me back, she'll be taking a step back and focusing just on the restaurant." I watch her to see if it sinks in. "You won't be working with her anymore. You'll be working with me again."
"Again, I don't see why that would matter to me." She unfolds her arms. "My clients deserve the best, and the best is what your restaurant gives me. So until it changes, that is what I'm going to work with."
"I'm sorry that I left like that." The words come out before I can stop them, and I see right away they get to her, but she masks it.
"I don't care." She shrugs. "I don't care that you left. I don't care that you’re back. What I care about is the service that you provide for my clients." Her words gut me. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with a client."
She turns to walk out, and I see the tattoo at the bottom of her neck. The tattoo that I traced with my tongue right before I slipped into her. "It's a beautiful table," I compliment, and she looks over her shoulder. "Very elegant."
"Thank you," she says. "I hope my wedding guests will love it." My mouth hangs open as I look at her and then back at the table. The sound of her heels clicking gets farther and farther away from me.
"She's getting married," I say the words out loud, hoping it will finally register in my brain that she is off the market and is in the “do not go there” category. "Motherfucker," I curse with all the pent-up anger I kept at bay in front of her. Having her stand there in front of me and totally brush me off killed me inside, but I don't know what I expected. I thought for sure she would rip me a new one and ask me why I did it. But I did not plan for her to brush me off. For her to stand in front of me and act like it didn't even bother her. At least that is what it looked like. Except for that one second when her guard slipped, and I saw the hurt in her eyes.
My eyes roam over the table again as I look at everything so neatly done. I want to rip everything off the table and throw it to the floor.
But I don't. Instead, I turn and walk back out the door I walked into, not once looking back.
I slam the door of my truck a lot harder than I have to. Starting it and backing up, I put my glasses back on my eyes as I do what I told myself not to do. I take one look back, knowing where her office window is. I stare into it, hoping that she comes to the window, but nothing happens. Nothing happens except the roar that rips out of me and the fist that punches the steering wheel.