“Oh.” So the joke was on her. “Well.” She would not ask with whom. Or where. Neither was any of her business. But suddenly she was dying to know both.
Luke stood, tucking the pencil behind his ear. “I’m joking, too,” he said. The relief that flooded through her was mortifying. “How about you?”
Every time she made eye contact with him it felt he could see straight into her thoughts. She felt a blush start to creep up her neck and willed it away from her cheeks. “What about me?”
“You’ve grilled Brad. You’ve practically harassed me. I think it’s only fair that I get a turn.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
She narrowed her eyes. “First of all,harassis a strong word. And no. No date tonight for me, either.” Despite their playful banter, the admission swung her thoughts sharply back to Boston, to things she’d been trying hard not to think about. An image of Greg getting dressed for a nice dinner downtown, just like they did most Fridays, flashed in her mind. She wondered if he was taking Rebekah out. She wondered if they’d come home and fall into bed after. Leah turned to the window, trying to rid herself of them.
Luke must have sensed it. “Tell you what. Since neither of us has a hot date, there’s a spot I’d like to take you.”
“Now? Where?” She followed him out to the front of the store.
“No questions,” he said, without turning around.
“Wait.” Leah halted. “Do I need to change? Maybe I should run home real quick…”
But he was already out the door. “I’ll wait for you in the truck,” he called back.
They stopped at liquor store. “Thisis what you wanted to show me?”
“Nope.” Scout was perched on the bench of the front seat of the truck, panting between them. Leah tried to peer around the dog to catch Luke’s expression. “Back in a minute.”
The next stop was Chatham Pier. It was an especially popular spot for tourists who liked to climb the upper decks to watch the seals diving and surfacing playfully about the fishing boats, before stopping in the small, shingled shed thatserved as a fresh seafood shop. “You’re a Cape girl. Still like lobster rolls?”
Leah nodded. “But you’ll never get a parking spot at this hour on a Friday night,” she told him. “See? Look how full the lot is. And the pier workers don’t let people drive down here anymore…”
Luke ignored her warnings, navigating the crowds of people and continuing on to the pier’s bottom lot. One of the workers flagged them down and approached.
“He’s going to ask us to leave,” Leah said.
Instead the guy pointed to a reserved spot. “Hey, Luke. You can park right there.”
Leah bit her lip and decided to shut up.
“Buttered or chilled?” Luke asked, not bothering to hide his smile.
“Buttered.”
Ten minutes later, they pulled into the far lot on Harding’s Beach. “Wait there,” Luke said, coming around to the passenger side. When he swung the truck door open Scout leapt over her.
“Are you holding the door for him or me?” she asked.
“Sorry about that. He loves the beach.” Luke held out his hand and helped her step down. “For what it’s worth, it was for you.” He went around the back and lowered the tailgate. “And so is this.”
He grabbed the takeout bag from Chatham Pier Fish Market and handed her a lobster roll. Then he slid a cooler in her direction and opened the lid. “I figured you probably outgrew thewine coolers you used to hide under your bed in high school, but I wasn’t sure what you liked now.”
She gasped. “You used to look under my bed?”
“James did. I just helped him drink the wine coolers.”
“Thieves.”
“You probably should’ve thought of a better hiding place.”
He swung the cooler around so she could peer inside. Tucked in ice was a six-pack of Corona, White Claws, and a bottle of rosé. She was touched by the selections. “What are you having?”
“Whatever you are,” he said.
