Lucas Read online

  Lucas

  Leigh Loveday

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Leigh Loveday

  Chapter One

  Lucas

  Twilight settles over Brookshore and the sound of crickets wafts in through an open window. I’ve been in my office for a few hours, working on a design program to plan the complete overhaul of a customer’s car, and it’s not until I look away from the screen and blink that I realize my eyes are burning.

  I love my job. No, really. I made millions with cryptocurrency and opened up the auto shop after I bought my mansion and pimped my own Porsche 911. I don’t need to be here; I want to be here. I get to give a few guys jobs, pay them well, and tinker and play with cars all day. What’s not to love about that?

  I’m not driving my Porsche tonight. I’ve just replaced the engine in a local lady’s Toyota, so I drive that home instead so I can open her up a bit and see how she runs.

  I don’t know what comes over me, but when I approach the fork in the road that lets me go right to my empty mansion or left into my old neighborhood, I get the strangest tingling feeling, like I should go left. I haven’t been into the neighborhood for a couple of years now. I wasn’t exactly living in the nicest part of town back then, if you know what I mean.

  The place looks eerily similar to the way it did when I lived here when I still worked in the mine. I can almost see a shadow of my past self, covered in dust and dirt, walking home down the street. I roll down the window to inhale the place, and the familiar scent makes me almost nostalgic. The nearby sound of raised voices quickly does away with it.

  “What do you mean you don’t know where he is? He lives here!”

  I slow the Toyota to a crawl and drive by, unable to hear the other half of the conversation. I can see better now, though, and the silhouette of a girl with ample curves is backlit by the light streaming out of a door, before the door slams behind her. She pounds her way to the sidewalk and stops, stomping her little foot in frustration as she lets out a muted groan.

  “Everything okay, Miss?” I ask, coming to a stop just in front of her.

  She lifts her head to reveal the biggest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. Her cheeks are dusted with freckles that seem to shine under the streetlamps, and her hair is a mop of unruly, rich auburn curls that frame her face. To say that she was beautiful would be an understatement. She is divinity itself, placed here in my tracks to test my resolve. Well. My resolve is not strong, and I’m already hoping that whatever her problem is it ends up with her in my bed.

  “Oh yeah, just peachy,” she says, and suddenly the doll-like beauty I’d been staring at just a moment ago has taken on another dimension. She is sarcastic, and funny with her cocked brow, and not afraid to look me in the eye and try to wither me with a glare.

  I like her.

  “Wanna tell me about it?” I ask, letting my eyes trail to her feet and back up. I spot her glancing into the back of the Toyota, where she must clock the two child safety seats strapped in. She’s in her early twenties by the looks of things, and I’m in my early forties. Of course she’s about to assume all sorts of things about my marital status and a brood of children. Funny how people don’t assume those things when I’m in my Porsche, eating up the road.

  When I give her my best smile, I see her head tilt just a little to the right, like she’s seeing me for the first time. Her eyes go to my bare ring finger.

  “No funny business,” I say, holding both hands up, so she can see they’re both bare. “Just driving through and noticed you not having the best time is all. Thought I’d stop and see if I can help.”

  After regarding me for another thoughtful moment, she relents with a nod.

  “Ugh. My stupid ex. We broke up like 18 months ago and I went traveling a year ago. Except I was paying the rent and he kept failing to find somewhere else to stay. He asked if he could stick around since I’d be away anyway, and I agreed as long as he promised to stay there and basically house sit until I was back.”

  “Aha,” I nod, following along. I want to wring this ex-boyfriend’s neck already, for the crime of having been with and presumably touched the woman in front of me, but I don’t say that. That’s crazy talk.

  “Well, it turns out he bailed shortly after I left and started subletting to this couple almost right away. Despite the fact I still pay the goddamned rent every month like clockwork. So I’m home expecting him to have just moved out and instead he’s moved people in. Asshole.”

  “Asshole, indeed,” I agree with a nod. That seems to cheer her up a little, because she breaks a smile, her cheeks apple, and her face lights up in a way I didn’t think was possible. It fills me with warmth.

  “So, you need somewhere to stay?” I ask.

  Wren

  I cock a brow when the guy in the car asks if I need somewhere to stay. He’s hot. He’s wearing a tight T-shirt covered in smears of some sort of grease or dirt, and I can see muscles rippling underneath the fabric.

  “Uh,” I say, glancing back to the house. My house! But there’s not much I can do about that tonight, and I’m going to need to speak to a lawyer before I contact my good-for-nothing asshole ex-boyfriend, Bret, to get a refund on my rent.

  “Could you give me a lift into town?” I ask the guy. I figure it can’t do much harm. He looks around forty and he’s driving a sensible family car full of child seats. I’m no expert criminologist, but I don’t think this is really the profile of a serial killer. His wife, though? Whew! That is one lucky lady.

  “At this time? Everywhere’s closed.”

  “Aww, shame,” I say. I have trouble controlling my smart mouth at the best of times. It gets worse when I’m stressed—and this rent situation has me stressed. “I was hoping to get a quick mani and do some shoe shopping. In the middle of the night. Just off a plane. Carrying a suitca—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I get it. Smart mouth.” He quirks one side of his mouth in a smile, and it’s the most panty-wetting, gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen.

  “I’ll find a hotel room,” I say.

  “You sure? I have a spare room, and you’re welcome to it.”

  I’d be all over that offer if Mister Panty-Wetter wasn’t packing two kid seats. I did notice that he’s not wearing a ring. But whether that’s because he’s never worn one or because he’s divorced, I don’t know. Even if he’s divorced… those car seats look like a lot of baggage to me. And as we’ve established, I’ve had my fair share of troublemaking men.

  “Positive,” I say. “But thanks for the offer, stranger.”

  “Lucas.”

  “Thanks for the offer, Lucas. If I’m in town I’ll be able to get to my lawyer’s office first thing to get this mess sorted out.”

  “Sure thing, miss,” he says. “I’ll put your luggage in the trunk.”

  “Wren,” I say. “My name’s Wre–en.”

  The stutter is caused by him getting out of the car and rising up to his full height. Holy heck he is huge. Broader than he looked sitting down and a full foot taller than me. His arms are the size of my thighs—which, incidentally, are clenching in response to him—and he’s wearing coveralls on his bottom half, with the arms tied around his hips.

  “Nice to meet ya, Wren,” he says, stopping right in front of me.

  He just stands there for a moment, looming, looking down at me while I look up at him. I have this completely ludicrous feeling like we’re about to kiss, and I feel this whole-body warmth spreading through me, from my spine out to my extremities. He bends down and my breath hitches. And then he gets
up again, pulling up the giant suitcase that’s traveled with me all over the world for a year as though it were an average purse.

  Duh.

  Of course he wasn’t going to kiss me. I knew that. I hide the sudden color in my cheeks by moving around the car to the passenger side, while he puts the suitcase in the trunk.

  “My dad likes birds,” he says when he gets in and starts the engine. It takes me a moment to realize he’s referring to my name.

  “Oh,” I say, and nod. Did he feel that weird moment too? And now he’s making small talk to try and make things less awkward?

  Is it me, or is it super hot in this car?

  Chapter Two

  Lucas

  My dad likes birds? My dad likes fucking birds? Did I just say that?

  You can’t blame me, though. When I was standing there over her, looking down at her, her big, blue eyes locked with mine, I could have kissed her. Maybe I should have kissed her. I know I wanted to kiss her, but my conscious mind thankfully beat my lizard brain into submission and I managed not to make the gorgeous, curvy redhead think I was a creep or a weirdo.

  Well, I mean she might think I’m a weirdo after the “My dad likes birds” thing, but that’s different.

  “So,” I say, when the silence has become so uncomfortable that even the prospect of saying something else cringe-worthy is more appealing than basting in it. “You know the area? Got a hotel preference?”

  “Yeah, I grew up here,” she says.

  “No way. Same,” I say, and we’re off.

  She’s 23, dropped out of college when her travel blog took off, much to her folks’ dismay, and she’s been earning a living from that, traveling the world for the last year and vlogging and writing about her experience.

  It’s pretty cool, actually, and I’m struggling to find anything to put the brakes on my rapidly curing, concrete belief that it was fate that sent me down that street tonight. Her voice is smooth and mellifluous with just a hint of a squeak every now and then, when she gets really animated.

  Too soon, I pull up outside the hotel she’s chosen and get out to get her bag. I bring it to the entrance of the hotel and set it down beside the door.

  “You gonna be okay?” I ask. Not that I have any doubt. She spent the last year solo traveling the world. I’m sure she’s not phased by a one-night solo stay at a hotel in her hometown.

  “Yup!” she says, standing with her hands in her pockets, like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

  “So I’d better get ins—”

  “Do you want to get a dr—”

  We both start and stop speaking at the same time, then urge each other to continue like some terrible cliché. I insist that she goes first, and immediately regret it.

  “I’d better get in and make sure they have a room,” she says.

  “Ah, yeah.” I nod, taking a step back. “Of course. You want me to wait to make sure you find a bed?”

  She shakes her head. “Nah. There’s other hotels within a short walk. One of them will have a room. But hey, thanks for everything.”

  I nod slowly. “No problem. How would I keep up my hero complex if I didn’t stop when I saw a princess in need?”

  She blushes a little and laughs at my line, but her eyes are glittering in the street light when she looks back at me.

  “You’re cheesy.”

  “You’re beautiful,” I say. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

  Her smile spreads to a grin and I’m sure she’s going to say yes, but then her gaze moves away from me for a moment and she squeezes her lips shut.

  “Better not,” she says. “Thanks again, Lucas. See you ‘round.”

  I’m not sure what’s changed her so quickly, but she looks like someone threw a bucket of cold water over her.

  “Here.” I pull a business card from the pocket of my coveralls and hand it over to her between two fingers. She takes it.

  “My number. In case you don’t manage to find a room.”

  “Thanks.” She gives me a smile, pulls up the handle of her suitcase, and wheels it in through a door that’s opened for her by a doorman.

  Back in the Toyota, I light the ignition and pull the mirror down so I can look myself in the eye.

  “My dad likes birds,” I say, in a stupid, high-pitched voice, before I slap the mirror back up and pull away from the hotel.

  Wren

  I wait until I’m inside the hotel to look down at the card. The fact that he’s an auto mechanic surprises me a little. I always imagined mechanics would drive better cars, for some reason. More exciting cars. Although, maybe the kid seats explain why he drives the car he drives.

  That was the only reason I said no to dinner. Because even while my core was clenching in response to him calling me beautiful, and my tummy was fluttering at the sight of him carrying my luggage to the door as though it were light as a feather, I still managed to catch a glimpse of those child seats in the back of the car and come to my senses. I've had a brilliant year—the last thing I want to do is end up being side entertainment for a bored, albeit stunningly handsome, married guy.

  Even so, once I’m booked in and laying in my hotel bed, I can’t stop thinking about him when I should be thinking about how I’m going to sort out my living situation. Without me even thinking about it my hand slides under the silky sheets and down over my ample curves, between my legs, and I close my eyes and imagine that he did kiss me, and touch me, and take me home.

  I slept like a rock last night. Travel exhaustion and the stress of my home situation must have gotten to me, because last thing I remember was fantasizing about the hot savior I’ll probably never see again, and the next thing I was waking up in the hotel bed, feeling refreshed if a little groggy.

  I hardly unpacked anything, so it takes me barely twenty minutes to shower, dress and vacate the room. After a hearty breakfast of pancakes, syrup and sausages (don’t judge me, I missed home!), I head out and drag my luggage with me to my lawyer’s office. When he tells me there’s nothing I can do to recoup the money I’ve paid in rent unless I have Bret’s whereabouts, and further that the rent contract was technically my responsibility and reporting the sub-letting to my landlord will probably get me in trouble anyway, I’m far from happy.

  I leave the lawyer’s office, still dragging my luggage along, and stop at the window of a rental agency to see what’s available to rent. There’s a good few family homes that are out of my preferred price range, and one shabby studio that makes me think I’d be safer if I took my chances on a park bench.

  “Wow, I can almost smell that place just from the photo.”

  A tingle runs up my spine as I hear the voice, and I spin around to see him standing there, a grin on his face as he looks down at me. He’s even more handsome in daylight, and he’s clean and fresh in a crisp, pale blue linen shirt and jeans.

  “Holy shit, Lucas, you nearly scared me outta my skin!” I say, batting at his chest with my hand.

  I don’t realize it’s the first time I’ve actually touched him until I feel sparks travel up my arm, down my spine and directly to my core. He must feel it, too, because he seems to stiffen a little.

  “I’d hate that,” he says, reaching to push a stray hair out of my face. “It’s beautiful skin.”

  “Jesus, get outta the sidewalk,” huffs a woman as she barges between us, and the moment of tension is neutralized.

  “So!” I grin to Lucas, recovering myself. “What brings you to town?”

  “Ah,” he says. “Well, I had to drop the Toyota back to its owner this morning, or I’d have come then. But I was actually just going to the hotel to check you got things sorted.”

  “Ugh,” I say, reflexively, shaking my head. “It’s a nightmare. Sweet of you, though. Thanks.”

  “I take it you’re looking for a place to stay?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yup. Not exactly blown away by the options.”

  “Here,” he says, moving toward a Porsche 911 parked at the curb.
“I own a little cottage just on the edge of town. It’s nothing special, but it’s available. Jump in and I’ll show you.”

  I realize with a rush that if the Toyota wasn’t his, neither were the child seats in the rear of it. All of my assumptions about him are blown away by the realization, and I wonder if I would have said yes to dinner if he’d been in this car, instead of the family Toyota. Of course I would have.

  But should I say yes to renting a place from him, considering how dangerously volatile this tension between us feels?

  “Sure,” says my mouth, as my legs walk me around to the passenger side of the car. My brain doesn’t even have a chance to object.

  Chapter Three

  Lucas

  Three weeks after Wren moved into the cottage that sits on the opposite side of the courtyard from my mansion, I’m starting to learn her habits. According to the realtor who sold me this place, the cottage was built by a generous former owner to house the man who kept the grounds and tended the gardens, and it was built in the position it was so that he could provide some security to the house, too. Consequently, I have a decent view of the place in the evening, and I can catch glimpses of Wren a lot of the time as she goes about her business.

  And hey, don’t start thinking I’m some sort of creep. It’s not like that. I can fully admit that I’ve seen her walking around in just a t-shirt some evenings and it’s driven me wild, but most of the time it’s the little things. Like the way she leans back in her chair and expresses frustration with her whole body. Or the way she does a load of weird stuff where she holds her head upside down after a shower and does all manner of strange things to her curly hair.