The nerve of this man. How dare he insult my literary spirit sister!
I turn my head, looking towards the tower to avoid staring at his infuriatingly beautiful face.
“I guess so.”
The bus stops abruptly, pitching me forward and nearly knocking me out of my seat. Steady hands grasp my arms, preventing me from falling; the familiar heat inside of me rising like a fire from the touch. Though my arms are covered by soft fabric, I can still feel the heat of his palms against me and my omega pushes forth. I look up at those familiar jade pools, feeling strangely hot and…
My insides clench and the sweat forms on my brow. The oncoming heat stroke is inevitable.
Shit!
“Are you alright?” Luke asks, his voice dark and gravelly. I push off of him and stand on my own two feet.
“Peachy, thanks.”
Sarah gives me a knowing look, grabbing my hand, leading me off the bus, through the crowd, not even bothering to wait for the boys.
Come with me,” she says more directly. “I desire some chips, and I think you could use a bite, too.”
She tugs me towards the street, and I suck in a breath, feeling hotter than hell and this sweater isn’t helping. When we are a good distance from the bus, she speaks.
“So, is this why you’ve been avoiding him?” she plainly states.
“Huh?”
“Lucas. You two have barely been in the same room since you got here, right?” She blinks, leading me to a cart on the side of the street. The smell of fried potatoes is thick but so is the overpowering scent of vinegar.
“What is this place?” I ask as she chuckles.
“Do not change the subject, Emily,” she says carefully.
“I am not, I just?—”
She smirks at me. “It is a food cart. Do you not have them in America?”
“Of course we do. I know what it is, I just… can’t figure out what smells so good.”
Sarah flashes her brown eyes at me with that same knowing look her brother has.
And then I smellthatfamiliar, sweet scent that makes my mouth water, overpowering the potato and oil.
Caramel and spice. I groan without thinking.
“You mean aside from Lucas Pembrooke.”
I grumble as we move up in the line.
“Just because he smells good does not mean?—”
Sarah moves up to the attendant, ordering two waters and two baskets of chips. She glances at my sweater then at me.
“Charlie bought him that sweater last year for his birthday. I helped him pick it out,” she says matter-of-factly, handing me my water. I can feel Luke’s fiery gaze on me, my omega going haywire at the thought.
“Seems to be a bit lofty for you, but…”
She looks me up and down appraisingly. “It suits you.”
I stand to the side as Sarah gets our baskets of chips, not wanting to meet his gaze, but feeling powerless against the notion.
