Chapter Eleven
Luke
Luke froze, all his arguments to convince Charlotte still on his tongue. “You will?”
Like that didn’t sound completely desperate. What’s wrong with you?
She chuckled. “Yeah. You passed Mr. Bzdyl’s test—I guess I can give you some time.”
Luke couldn’t decide if he was stung or flattered by that. “How do you know I passed?”
“He’s making you bacon. That’s a compliment.” She smiled, and it lit her up from the inside.
Charlotte was gorgeous, but not in the same gleaming, plastic way most of the socialites on the mountain were. Not blond, not perfectly made up, not stick-thin and sculpted by an expensive Pilates trainer. No, this girl had a pen stuck through her messy bun with golden brown hair spilling out, reading glasses clipped to her apron, warm brown eyes, and a curvy figure Aphrodite would kill for. The kind of girl who had plans beyond which party she’d go to this weekend. Normally, Luke wouldn’t go after her type, knowing these girls were looking for someone who could both keep up and stick around.
He hadn’t been kidding about the whole turning over a new leaf thing, though. And it felt good to smile and flirt, to kiss a girl who seemed to genuinely enjoy it rather than put on the sexy vixen pout like it was a movie. Charlotte had responded like a rosebush in desperate need for sun and rain.
Spectacular.
Luke needed some spectacular—that was for damn sure. He’d gotten up at six thirty to be gone before anyone else woke up, deciding to do cardio until Michael showed at the gym. When he’d seen the text and checked out the drifts at the side of the house, he’d gone out looking for stranded drivers just for something to do. There were two suitcases in the back of his Jeep, even now, in case his parents said he couldn’t come back home.
“That’s not usually the reaction a girl likes when she accepts a date,” Charlotte said, cutting into his thoughts. “You look like you’re being forced to drink ouzo.”
He grimaced. “Ouzo is pretty bad.” Why couldn’t he get himself together? “Sorry—my mind went somewhere dark for a second. I’m glad you said yes.”
She raised an eyebrow, this delicate arch that looked both kissable and skeptical at the same time. “You sure?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. Yeah, he’d definitely have to kiss that sweet, skeptical eyebrow sometime soon. “Absolutely.”
She didn’t look totally convinced, but the bell dinged over the front door and a woman cried, “Oh, thank God. Someone’s open and there’s coffee.”
Charlotte snorted. “That’s my cue. I’ll be back with your food in a sec.”
She bustled off, pulling the pen out of her bun and calling out a welcome to the well-dressed couple waiting for a table. Luke watched her go. If skiers were beginning to show up on the mountain, maybe he could get in a good, hard run. Fresh powder, especially stuff this deep, made things pretty interesting. He needed to keep moving so he could stop thinking.
By the time Mr. Bzdyl brought out a steaming plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and a side of fruit, both Charlotte and Evangeline were busy with tables. “Do you have more staff?” Luke asked. “They’re pretty busy.”
“We’re working on it,” the man said in his heavy accent. “Hard to find servers this time of year. We have some temps who cover for the girls’ days off, but no one wants full-time during ski season. Why, you need a job?”
Luke stared down at his eggs. “I might.”
“Come see me first.” Mr. Bzdyl patted his arm. “I’ll teach you how to make espresso drinks. Ladies would like to be served coffee from you, I bet.”
Chuckling, the man went back into the kitchen. Luke just shook his head and started to eat. Like usual, the food was outstanding—simple, but so good. The fact that it was free was even better. Especially since he couldn’t be sure if he’d be on a serious budget soon.
Was it worth it?
He’d asked himself that question a thousand times last night. His mother’s expression almost made him change his mind, but then he’d think of the adrenaline-spiking thrill of smoking Tucker on the course, knowing that his times were good enough to make the team. He couldn’t give this up. It meant too much. And he had some money from the trust fund his grandfather had left him. It had reverted to him on his birthday. Most of it was going for lift tickets, his gym membership, entry fees, and Michael’s time, though.
Luke sighed. He’d figure it out. One way or another.
Charlotte came back over to refill his coffee cup. “When did you want to go out?”
She asked the question like it was no big deal, but her hand was shaking and her cheeks were flushed. He straightened up on his barstool. “Tonight?”
“Not wasting any time, huh?” She put a hand on her hip. “Worried I’ll back out?”
“No.” And he wasn’t, cocky as it might sound. There was a spark catching between him and this girl. He knew it, and he knew she did, too. “I’ll pick you up at, say, seven? Or is that too late? I know you get up early.”
She bit her lip, and he wished he could pull her back into his arms. God, she’d felt perfect up against him earlier. Soft, melting, like she’d been waiting forever instead of a few days.
Finally, she nodded. “Seven’s good. Don’t worry about driving all the way up here, though. I’ll meet you.”
“I’m picking you up, Charlotte.” Luke turned on a good dose of charm. “I don’t mind the drive when there’s a beautiful girl at the finish line.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was trying not to laugh. “You’ve picked someone up at a bar with that line, haven’t you?”
He mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key, and this time she did laugh. “I solemnly swear I’ve never used that exact line,” he said.
“Nice to be unique.” She nodded. “See you at seven, then. I need to get back to work before Mr. Bzdyl fires me.”
“Never going to happen, lovely Charlotte!” Mr. Bzdyl called from the kitchen.
She groaned. “God, did he hear all that?”
“Yes! You should go out with the nice boy.” Her boss leaned out of the kitchen door. “And Evangeline’s saying she’ll open in the morning so you can stay out later.” He glowered at Luke. “But not so late, yeah?”
Luke felt a slight pang of fear—this man’s glower packed a punch. It had been a long time since a “dad” had given Luke a shake. “Yes, sir.”
When the kitchen door closed, Luke shot Charlotte an amused look. “He knows you’re twentysomething and not fifteen, right?”
She sighed. “Doesn’t seem to. See you later.”
Luke had to stare as she moved from table to table. He had a feeling tonight would be pretty great. Whether or not he ended up in her bed.
“Christ, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Luke grunted and pushed his back against the leg press’s chair. Slowly he started to move the two hundred thirty pounds Michael had loaded onto the weight rack.
“You can handle it. Quite bitching and push.” Michael leaned against the wall of mirrors next to the press machine. He was the most fit guy in here and had been giving the socialites a good view of what they wished they could have, while Luke sweated and strained, red-faced, to move the weights. “I moved six hundred pounds on this thing once.”
“Once. The key word there was ‘once,’ jackass.” Luke blew out a breath and pushed again. “I’m on my third set of ten.”
“And we’re going to do a nice jog as a cooldown next.” Michael’s grin was evil.
Luke’s stomach growled loudly. Michael’s idea of a “nice jog” was usually five miles. It was already four thirty, and Luke still needed to clean up, buy some flowers for Charlotte, and make it back up the mountain by seven. He might starve to death before then.
Michael gave him a hand up off the leg press machine, nodding when Luke’s legs shook beneath him. “It takes a lot to tire out your quads, man, but day after tomorrow, when we go back up to the course, you’ll see a difference.” He flipped Luke a protein bar. “Eat that, rest a bit, then we’ll run.”
Luke sank onto a weight bench and devoured the bar. “Seriously, how are my chances? No bullshit—what’s the truth?”
Michael looked thoughtful. “Having second thoughts?”
“No.” Luke had told his trainer about the family thing, mainly to see if Michael wanted a temporary roommate. Michael’s boyfriend had vetoed that idea. Luke was apparently too good-looking to be roaming their apartment in his underwear. “Okay, maybe. I just want to make sure this is worth it. I actually like my family, cheesy as that sounds. I don’t want to be disinherited and come in ninth at the trials.”
“Fair enough. I think if you continue to work hard, you can beat anyone up there, including Kit. Now, beating Kit might take an act of God, or some special luck, but you’ve got everyone else down cold. The team will take five. If you make it to nationals and don’t wipe out, you have a shot.” Michael paused. “But it’s going to take total focus. Cut down on booze, sugar, and distractions.”
Luke closed his eyes, pretending to rest even though his stomach churned, wondering what waited for him at home. “Yeah, because my family isn’t distracting me at all.”
“I know it’s hard, but you can’t do anything about family, which means you’ll have to be Zen everywhere else.” Michael wagged a finger. “For instance, I saw you chatting up that girl yesterday. Save some of that tension for the race, my friend.”
Luke frowned. “She’s not a distraction. And it’s not your business.”
Michael’s smile held a challenge. “Prove she isn’t. Quit sitting around, whining.”
Luke wiped his forehead with a towel, then threw it at Michael. “Start up the treadmill, asshole. I have work to do.”
Two hours later, limping and sore from the hips down, Luke showed up at the café, bouquet in hand. He’d gone home for nicer clothes before his workout, relieved that everyone was out, then cleaned up at the gym. Maybe if he kept this up, he could avoid seeing his family for another few days.
He knocked on the café’s front door, not sure how to get to Charlotte’s apartment. A moment later, the lock buzzed, and he pushed it open. The main dining room was dimly lit, but it grew brighter as he headed back through the kitchen. Here, a door to a staircase stood open. Grimacing, he made his way up the stairs on sore legs, determined not to let Michael’s ass kicking show.
At the top, there was a door painted peacock blue, complete with brass knocker and security peephole. He knocked.
“Coming!” A moment later Charlotte opened the door. “Good, you found me. I lost track of time studying earlier, so I need a minute. Want to come in?”
“Sure. No hurry.” He handed her the flowers and stepped into the apartment. It was tiny—about the size of his parents’ living room—but all Charlotte, with bright colors and trinkets. A coffee mug that read “Trust me, I’m ‘almost’ a doctor” rested upside down on a drainboard by the sink. Other than that, everything was perfectly in place.
Charlotte emerged from the closet carrying a pair of boots. “Sorry to make you wait. You can sit if you want.”
Luke settled himself on the couch. “You know, if you want to stay in, I know how to cook. Think Mr. Bzdyl would care if I used his food and kitchen? I’d pay him back for it.”
Charlotte glanced up from tying a boot. “Um…probably not?”
Good. He didn’t feel like going out. He attracted too much attention in clubs, and he wanted time to get to know Charlotte better, without all the noise.
And if her bedroom was conveniently located, that was her call. He wouldn’t say no. Seriously, the way her sweater hugged those magnificent curves, he was going to have trouble seeing straight, let alone navigating the Jeep back down the mountain with her by his side. No, he’d rather stay up here.
“I’m going to look around, see what I can pull together for dinner.” He smiled at her, slow and sexy, loving how she ducked her head when he did. Shy girls, they were the best. Once they let go, they could blow a guy’s mind. “See you downstairs when you’re ready. Unless you want to eat up here?”
“Downstairs is fine,” she said, a little too quickly.
Luke stood. Was he moving her along too fast? Maybe. “Sounds good.”
He turned to go, betting she needed to collect herself before she came down. Hell, he did, too. If he caught one more look at her ass, he was going to explode.
Damn, it had been too long since he’d pursued a girl like this.
Cold trickled down his spine—the last girl he’d pursued full tilt was Zoey.
Maybe that’s why he’d stuck to quick hookups for the past year. He hadn’t been willing to risk himself. The less he felt, outside of plain old lust, the better.
But Charlotte? Like entering the competition, he had a feeling she was well worth any risk he took.
Shaking off the guilt that clung to any thought of Zoey, Luke went to the fridge to see what he could raid for dinner. There was chicken, as well as cream, Parm, linguine, and spinach. He even found a bottle of olive oil in the back of a cabinet, along with a full spice rack. He was certain they had bacon, so that was covered. He set everything out, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work. He’d been surprised when he’d moved into his first apartment to discover he not only had decent cooking skills, but he enjoyed it, too. He’d expanded his menu over the last two years, primarily because it impressed women. Living on something other than ramen like most of his friends was even better.
He had the chicken and bacon cooking with some garlic while he combined everything for a sauce. Once he had it all in a pan, along with the linguine, Charlotte appeared. She took a deep breath, her eyes falling closed, and groaned. “My God, what is that? And how much of it is mine?”
Luke laughed, although that groan had spiked his blood pressure into the red. Jesus. “Just a pasta dish I kind of created based on a few recipes, and you can have half.”
Charlotte pulled some plates off the shelf and set them by the range before laying silverware at one of the tables close to the kitchen. She came back and bent over to pull something out from under the bar. Luke took a good, long look. God damn. Does she even know how hot she is?
She straightened back up with a small bottle of white wine and a pair of glasses. “Sometimes we have special happy hours. And sometimes Evangeline and I have our own happy hours.”
He smiled at her over his shoulder as he tossed the pasta without looking. Her eyes widened. Exactly the reaction he wanted. “How would I go about scoring an invitation to one of those?”
“Um…what?” she asked.
“Never mind.” He plated the pasta and dropped some chives on top. “Let’s eat.”