Luke’s lips brush, featherlight, against my forehead.
“That’s my girl,” he mumbles, holding me for a moment longer before guiding me to the couch.
Twenty-Nine
TELL ME TO STOP
Liv
“Why croissants though? Of all the breakfast delicacies,thatis your favorite?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure. The first time I ever had one though, I was out with my mom. She brought me into this bakery and I remember it smelled so good. Then she handed me a croissant, and I’ve been obsessed ever since. So, I suppose I have my mom to thank for my love of croissants.”
“Are all croissants treated equally? Or is it one of those things where some places have better croissants than others?” Luke asks.
I pull my ankle under my knee and turn my body toward him on the couch. The rain beats against the glass as the wind rattles the window panes.
“I don’t discriminate, though I love the croissants at Bean & Brew—I don’t know what Claire does to them, but they are exceptional. Still, I’ll get a croissant just about anywhere. All I know is the bigger, the better?—”
“That’s what she said.” Luke rubs a hand across his mouth, failing at hiding his smile.
“You’re just as bad as Josh.” I swat at his leg.
Luke laughs. A good hearty sound, warming me from the inside out.
“Joshdid that?”
“Yup, he and my brother, and my brother’s best friend. My guess is that’s why Hunter is still out on the West Coast. I think he’s afraid Ma will hand him his ass when he gets home. He conveniently left to go back to school when all that went down.” Luke’s arm is resting on the back of the couch, his hand inches from my shoulder.
“Well, yeah, I’d be afraid to come home too. What did she do to Josh?”
“Ma reassigned him for the whole summer.”
“Do I even want to know what that means?”
“I think Ma’s exact words were, ‘You want to do stupid shit? Then you can deal with everyone else's. She had him cleaning every single guest room on his own for the entire summer.”
“Yikes.”
“So you and your dad built your cottage together? That must have been really special.”
Occasionally, thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance, but it’s muffled and quiet. The rain has calmed down too. Still, Luke’s large hand seems to have a mind of its own as it lands on my knee, squeezing gently the moment the thunder begins.
Like a steady presence, he answers. “Yeah. He was quite a carpenter. Built the whole addition on this house—the rooms you and the other guests stay in. He expanded this room right here. And then throughout college we worked on my cottage because he wanted me to have a space of my own.” We seem tohave drifted closer together on the couch, his body angled to face me.
“And what about Josh’s place?” My eyes flick to the hand still resting on my knee. He sees me, but doesn’t move it.
I don’t mind.
Luke huffs out a laugh. “Josh’s place was an ordeal. He wanted to help, but he hated being told what to do. It was a nightmare. He isn’t the best with carpentry.” His eyes drift to the shelves of mugs on the wall that were hung too high.
“Why do you think being difficult is a bad thing?” He twirls a lock of my hair around his finger with the hand draped across the back of the couch.
“Itisa bad thing. No one wants to deal with someone who asks too many questions, has too many opinions, or has high expectations.”
“Interesting,” he says.
“What?”
