Lukas

He flinches. “Someone like me?”

I touch his arm and shake my head. “I meant young like you. We’re in totally different places in life.”

“I was in your place in life a long time ago, Ivy. Way before I should have been. Don’t judge me by my age or think I’m some immature kid.”

“I know you’re not. I can see that. Trust me.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “I’m not going to keep you here to argue this out. I know you have to go, and I don’t want your daughter to be worried.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Drive safe, and I’ll see you at your next appointment.” I breathe in the scent of him before he pulls away. He smells so good—a mix of incense from the shop and his cologne.

“Thank you for dinner,” I murmur. “I really enjoyed talking with you and getting to know you.”

“Same here, Sunshine. You have no idea how much. My dinner invitation stands—any time you’re ready to accept it.”

I get in my car and watch him walk around to the other side of the building, away from the shop entrance, so I assume the door to his apartment must be over there. Squinting in the dark, I see there is a balcony off the side of the building that I didn’t notice before. A new light turns on upstairs, and he walks by the window, pulling his shirt over his head. Even in the shadows, I can see how muscular he is. Great, Ivy. Don’t be a voyeur now, on top of everything else.

Regret fills me as the light goes out, and I wonder if he’s in his bed right now, if he’s thinking about me. I wish I could have gone upstairs with him and spent more time with him. Somehow, he makes everything feel better. Even just talking to him, I felt relaxed, happy, more myself. More like the girl I used to be . . . Like Charlene is now, as Paul so aptly pointed out. At least I don’t scrape plaque for a living, Charlene.

And guess what else, Charlene. Paul will never kiss you the way Lukas just kissed me. That much I know without a doubt.

I start my car and turn the heat on, giving it a few minutes to warm up. I’m still breathless and reeling from his kisses and feeling his hard body pressing against mine. My panties are wet from wanting him so much. As I stare up at his window, my mind wanders to the feel of his piercings against my soft flesh, and now I know why some women squeal over men with piercings. What that must feel like in other places . . .

My cell phone rings, the noise scaring me out of my daydream. I dig it out of my purse and see it’s my home number on the caller I.D.

“Hi, Macy,” I answer cheerfully.

“Mom, where are you? It’s after ten.” Role reversal can happen so unexpectedly.

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry,” I say, flustered. “My appointment lasted longer than I expected. I’m on my way home. I’ll be there in less than half an hour.” I pull out of the parking lot, hoping Lukas doesn’t see I was still sitting in my car watching his windows.

“Well, why did I have to come home if you were staying out late?” my daughter demands. “I could have stayed out with my friends longer.”

Jesus. My first night out after dark practically, and I’m already battling with my teenager.

“Because you’re supposed to be home at ten. That’s why.”

She sighs in exasperation. “Seriously, Mom, I’m almost eighteen. None of my friends have to be home by ten. It’s totally lame. Now that Dad is gone, can you just like, forget that and let me stay out later? I don’t drink or anything. We just hang out and talk or get coffee.”

“Macy, your father is not gone. We’re separated, but he is still your father, and your curfew was his rule.”

“Yeah, Dad isn’t exactly great at sticking to the rules himself, now is he?”

Grinding my teeth, I try to pay attention to the road as the familiar pounding in my head returns. “We talked about those comments, Macy. I know this is difficult. It is for all of us.”

“Not for Dad, just the rest of us.”

I silently agree with her. Paul got to move in with Charlene the Great, and meanwhile, the kids and I have been thrown into a mess we don’t want to be in.

“Sweety, I know. Things will get better.”

“Tomorrow, I’m supposed to hang out with Shelly. Can I at least stay out ’til midnight? Or can she come here? We’re going to do a Vampire Diaries marathon.”

Crap. Tomorrow night I’m supposed to have dinner with Tim, a guy I work with. He cornered me in the break room every day for two weeks until I agreed to go out with him. I refuse, however, to consider it a date. When I agreed to have dinner with him, I figured it would shut him up for a few days, and then I could cancel a few days before, telling him I had to do something with the kids. And of course, I’ve had such a week from hell that I forgot to do that, so now it would be rude to call him tomorrow morning and cancel at the last minute, especially when I have to see him every day. You would think, with me working in Human Resources, I would know better than to ever agree to engage in any kind of out-of-office experience, which, oddly enough, the company I work for does not have a policy against. I make a mental note to bring that up at the next staff meeting.

“Mom? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, I just remembered I have to go out tomorrow night for work, so why don’t you have Shelly over? She can sleep over if she wants.”

“Awesomeness! I’m gonna go call her right now. Love ya.” She ends the call, done with me.

Later that night, as I’m sitting on the bed applying lotion to my tattoo and admiring how beautiful it is, the memory of Lukas’ hands lingering on my leg as he worked on me, how little electric tingles raced up my spine at his touch, come to the forefront of my mind. I haven’t felt like that in so very long, if ever at all. I wanted him to keep touching me, and I wanted to get my hands all over him, too. I wonder if tattoos cover his entire body. What would it feel like to glide my hands over those muscles and twist my fingers in his long hair?

As I’m getting into bed, I find a tiny black feather on my pillow. Frowning, I pick it up, wondering where it came from. I open my nightstand drawer and tuck it into the corner. It’s too pretty to throw away.

Snuggling under the sheets, I’m exhausted but unable to fall asleep because I can’t get these thoughts of Lukas out of my head. I can’t understand why he’s interested in me. Could it be some sort of joke? He really didn’t strike me as the game playing type, though. I can’t help but wonder why someone like him would be interested in me? I’m old, boring, and I have stretch marks. I have two kids. Clean laundry is the highlight of my weekend, and my life is a mess. Why would a hot young guy want anything to do with any of that? It makes zero sense.

Despite all that, I can’t deny that I really like him. He’s sweet, considerate, talented, and definitely knows how to kiss. I never thought a kiss could make me feel so much, not just within myself, but to actually be able to feel emotion coming from him as he kissed me. It was nothing short of incredible. I would have loved to go upstairs with him to kiss him all night, but I doubt it would have stopped there, and I’m not ready to be getting naked in front of anyone. I don’t think I’ll ever be. My own husband didn’t even want to have sex with me, so I’m pretty sure Lukas would be repulsed by me.

Rolling over onto my side, I decide all I have to do is get through one, possibly two more appointments, and then I won’t have to see him anymore, which is probably for the best. Then this little excursion of random excitement will be over, and I can go back to my boring life as a pending thirty-something divorcee with no life.

IVY

THE NEXT DAY, WHEN I DRAG my ass out of my bed and go down to the kitchen for coffee, I find Macy staring out the kitchen window like a rabid animal.

“Holy hell, Mom,” she says excitedly when she sees me. “That snow guy you hired is so cute!”

Snow guy? Confused, I watch her go to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water as she continues talking. “I’m going to go bring him some water because he looks hot and dehydrated. But mostly hot.”

“What? What snow guy?” I ask her, still not following the conversation. “Macy, what are you talking about?” She skips out the back door before I have a chance to stop her and get some answers.

I didn’t even hire a handyman yet, so I assume that Paul sent someone over here to take care of the shed roof, to let himself off the hook. I grab my coffee cup, hoping Paul is paying this guy so I don’t have to, and look out the window to see my daughter talking to a very muscular young man with long black hair just past his shoulders, wearing a black thermal shirt, faded jeans, and workboots, who’s standing next to our shed with a shovel. I can see the tattoos on his hands from here.

Oh, damn. It’s Lukas.

What the—?

I watch as my beautiful daughter flirts with him, playing with her hair, and standing way too close to him. She’s wearing a tight sweater, her favorite jeans, and big fuzzy boots. She tilts her head, giggling at something he’s saying. They actually look really cute next to each other.

Oh no. This cannot be happening.

I feel like a squirrel in the middle of the road with an oncoming car, going this way and then that way and then the other way again. Total confusion of epic proportions.

Should I be feeling jealous? No. But I do.

Should I be glad that a guy as nice, talented, and caring as Lukas might be interested in my daughter’s attention? Yes. He’d definitely treat her a lot better than the last boy she dated, who I caught trying to sneak into her bedroom like a little perv. I kicked his ass right out of here.

But I don’t want Lukas interested in my daughter for any reason, because all I can think of is how he kissed me, and the passion I saw in his eyes, and how he made my legs weak. I can’t even think about him making my daughter feel that way, because I want him for myself, not to mention that I don’t want my little girl feeling that way until she’s at least thirty.