“It’s Luc!” His deep voice easily penetrates the wood door, and Yard’s bark turns into a whimper of anticipation.
One of my neighbors must’ve let him in. I should probably talk to them about that. Seriously? What if Luc was a stalker? An ax murderer? A singing telegram? I suppress a shudder at the thought.
“Be right there!” I call, taking a deep breath and giving my reflection one more glance.
Oh holy Mother Mary. I’m doing it. I’m going on a date. WithLuc!
Wiping my sweaty palms on my dress, I paste on what I hope looks like a confident smile and head to the door. “Hi, Luc.” That’s all I can manage. My throat turns traitor and closes up on me.
Yard has no such trouble. He wiggles and whines until Luc bends and scratches his ears. Then he plops his butt on the floor and basks with pink-tongued happiness in the affection. Both cats shoot out from under the kitchen table to wind themselves around Luc’s ankles, leaving cat hair along the way. Leonard mews his excitement. Sheldon turns over his motor and begins to purr.
After giving each cat a head rub and a base-of-the-tail scratch, Luc straightens and smiles at me. Those dastardly dimples do things to my lady parts I don’t feel comfortable describing.
“Uh…wine?” I say, then blink at the total implosion of the lines I practiced.
Great, Maggie. Real smooth.
“Pardon?” He cocks his head.
In my defense, a tangled tongue is a common affliction for anyone who’s come face-to-face with physical perfection. Which Luc is.
Tonight he’s paired blue jeans with a black T-shirt and a camel-colored sports coat. He’s freshly shaved. He got a haircut, but it didn’t do anything to tame his Superman whorl—thank you, baby Jesus.And even though, deep in his heart of hearts, he’s a little bit country, honey, I’m here to tell you the rest of him is totally rock ’n’ roll.
You know those cartoons where the wolf sees the pretty she-wolf and his pupils turn into hearts and his eyes pop out of his head? Well, that’s me. But reversed. I’m the she-wolf and Luc is…
Never mind. You know what I mean.
“Wine?” I say again. Apparently, I’m capable of only one syllable tonight.
His eyebrows draw into a V. “Are you asking if I brought some, or if I want some?”
I shake my head because my brain’s not working. He’s vaporized it and sent it seeping from my ears like smoke.
His eyes dance as he says, “Let’s try this again. Hi, Maggie May. You look pretty tonight.”
“You too,” I manage, and he sticks his tongue in his cheek to keep from laughing.
It’s official, folks. Step three is a spectacular failure.
Don’t dweeb out? Ha! Look updweeb outin Urban Dictionary, and the first definition you’ll find will be my name: Magnolia May Carter.
I’m blushing so hard I can feel the blood pounding in my cheeks. “This is already a disaster,” I groan.
“A beautiful disaster,” he counters. “And in case I forget to tell you later, I had a wonderful time tonight.”
I stare at him, dazzled by the sparkle in his eyes. And yet strangely at ease too. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know what to say to make me feel better?”
He winks, and I swear I feel it in my bones. “Call it my superpower. Now, about that wine.”
I make a face. “What Imeantto say was… Hi, Luc. I’ve been looking forward to tonight. Would you like to come in and have a glass of wine before we head to dinner?”
“Sure.” His mouth twitches, but he manages not to grin as he follows me into the kitchen.
I can feel his eyes on me while I dig for the corkscrew in my silverware drawer. Feel the heat of them as they travel a path down my back and over my hips and legs. I shiver. I can’t help it.
