“Not a sweets person?” I repeat disbelievingly. “You just haven’t met the right kind of sweets, then.”
An almost-smile curves one corner of his mouth. “Maybe that’s true.”
“If you’re not a sweets person,” I ask, “What were you going to do with this cake? Please don’t tell me you’d throw it in the trash. That would be a crime against sugar.”
“I was gonna give it to someone.”
“Girlfriend?” I guess.
My heart sinks a little, despite my better judgement.
The almost-smile lifts just a little more. “Actually, I was gonna bring it back to my mom.”
Oh, he’s so cute.
Fuck, I’m in trouble.
CHAPTER 3
A Devil with Seaglass Eyes
As we leisurely alternate bites of cake, I take stock of the scene. The bar is empty and as clean and shiny as it’s ever been, thanks to Luke. My pink twinkle lights cast everything in a rosy glow that makes it look actually pretty in here. There’s a slow love song playing on the jukebox, and I’m sharing red velvet cake with a handsome man who hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
Weirdly, this might be the most romantic Valentine’s Day evening I’ve ever had.
Unfortunately for me, it’s with the bouncer at my dad’s dive bar.
We get to chatting between bites. Turns out Luke’s from another town over, about an hour away. Barely a town, he tells me, just one stoplight and endless expanses of land. His parents own a farm that was doing well until last year’s floods wiped out their crops and insurance wasn’t enough to cover it.
Hence the bouncer gig he picked up here.
So he loves his mom and dad. Enough to take on another job so he can help them out. He’s a good son.
Doesn’t mean he’d be a good boyfriend.
Not that I’m thinking about that.
“So what’s the big life goal?” I ask. “Farm life, the white picket fence, Montana forever?”
He shrugs. “I like the sound of all those things. But I was two credits away from my MBA before I had to take a leave of absence to help my folks. I’m aiming to finish up. Get my degree. Help them scale their operations so one bad year doesn’t make for a catastrophe.”
I lean away, a little taken aback by his revelation.
I never went to college. Never had the money or opportunity. Dad needs me at the bar, and that’s all right. He’s taken care of me and loved me all my life. The least I can do is help him out too.
Sure, I always wanted to go to art school, but I knew from the start that was an impossible dream.
It makes me feel weirdly intimidated to know the guy sitting across from me is in grad school and about to get an MBA.
Guys like him end up with girls who went to college too. Who have good careers and nice moms who took them to dance recital and dads who bought their family vehicle based on its good safety ratings.
My mom ran off with her drug dealer when I was three years old. My dad rides a Harley and has been to prison because he wouldn’t snitch on his buddies, a couple of whom were sitting in these chairs an hour earlier.
I thought maybe Luke and I were a little alike.
Turns out, not even close.
The tip of Luke’s black leather cowboy boot nudges my own foot.
