I can see that Luke is still circling the firepit, so I bend quickly and pull down my leggings right then and there.
Damn, a girl could get used to this kind of relief.
I fold them and place them inside the bag that I’ve put in the linen closet.
I hear the sliding door open as I walk back to the kitchen.
“I promise I’ll go on a grocery run tomorrow morning. I thought I’d have time on the drive up here, but it got dark and—”
Luke stops dead in his tracks.
His eyes darken as they assess me from top to bottom.
Shit. I fucked up.
I should have asked him if it was okay to put on his clothing.
Duh. What kind of person takes people’s hoodies without asking?
Probably girlfriends and wives. Not friends and current runaway brides.
Am I giving himSilence of the Lambsvibes right now?
Because the way he’s looking at me feels like he’s holding himself back from taking off at a sprint.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put this on. You gave it to me to protect my privacy, and I put it on because my leggings were too tight. Again, a me problem. I’ll take it off right now.”
He moves slowly, inching closer my way. Looking at the article of clothing as if he’s never laid eyes on it before.
“You want to wear my hoodie, Daisy?”
“I-I can—”
He shakes his head twice. “Answer the question I asked. Not the one your mind is fumbling to answer.”
I clamp my lips shut.
My brain is trying to give him an honest answer, but my heart is almost beating out of my chest with the tone he used on me. It wasn’t mean, because I know a mean tone when I hear one. It was commanding. As if he was trying to wade his way through my thoughts and straight to my desires.
And if I give too much thought to how I squeezed my thighs when he spoke, then he’ll be waiting a very long time for my answer.
“Daisy.”
“Yes.”
He arches a brow. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I want to wear your hoodie. If that’s okay with you,” I add quickly.
His lips twitch as he takes another step my way, bringing us toe to toe. He picks up one of the strings around the hoodie’s neck and gives it a soft tug. “Consider it yours.”
Our eyes meet for a long moment, and I stay rooted to the floor when he turns and ambles to the living room.
Long enough to remind myself he’s talking about the hoodie, and not himself.
“Pretty please? I promise I won’t make you learn the secret handshake with me. Unless you want to. If so, we can start practicing tomorrow on the dock.”
Luke sighs deeply. “The Parent Trap? Really? Don’t you want to watch something with murder or suspense? That usually seems to make you nice and chipper.”
