Luke stood beside his car at the curb, one hand resting on the roof. He looked good.
Memory rose unbidden—the weight of him over her, the heat of his hands, the way he fit against her like he’d been made for it. On her. In her. The way her body had overruled her pride, time and again.
Annoyed at herself, she stepped out onto her porch and pulled the door shut behind her. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and started down the steps.
“Grace,” he said when she reached the sidewalk.
She didn’t stop walking. “Luke.”
He straightened. “I’m driving you to school.”
She actually laughed—a short, incredulous sound. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m not asking,” he said. “I’m telling you.”
She stopped and turned, anger flaring hot and fast.
“You don’t get to tell me things,” she said. “You lost that privilege.”
His jaw flexed. “Someone got to you yesterday.”
“And I handled it,” she snapped. “Without you.”
Something flickered across his face—pain, maybe. Or frustration. She didn’t slow down long enough to decide.
She turned back toward the sidewalk and started walking again.
Luke fell into step beside her. Of course he did.
“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he said.
Grace let out a breath through her nose. “I didn’t think you cared that much.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the crunch of leaves under their feet. Her fingers curled around her bag strap. “You made it very clear what I was to you.”
“Grace—”
“I was your dirty little secret,” she said. “Something you could enjoy without it touching your precious reputation.”
“That’s not?—”
“Because you think,” she cut in, finally turning her head, “that you are better than me. Better than a Hart.”
Luke stopped walking.
Grace didn’t.
“I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation,” she added coolly. “Being seen with me might give people ideas.”
A second later, his footsteps were back beside hers.
“Okay,” he said. “I won’t drive you. We’ll walk.”
She didn’t look at him.
She set her pace deliberately brisk, fueled by irritation and old hurt and the echo of a want she refused to acknowledge anymore.
Luke matched her easily. He stayed right there—quiet, steady, infuriatingly present.
