Luke Read online

  She shakes her head. "My family owned a distillery in Kentucky," she says. "Bourbon."

  "Kentucky bourbon," I say. "That's southern."

  She winks. "It's 'bout as southern as it gets," she says. "Thanks for the dinner."

  I'm standing there on her doorstep, and it has to be those damn green eyes and that red hair and the way her lips fall open like they do that makes me say what I say next, as I turn to leave. "I'll be here tomorrow at seven," I say.

  Fuck. What the hell am I doing?

  "What do you mean?" she calls after me.

  "You need a foreman, right?"

  What the hell am I getting myself into?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Autumn

  After Olivia is asleep, I lie in bed with my eyes closed, trying to sleep. But all I can see is him. Luke.

  He's irritating as hell. Cocky, crude, arrogant, used to telling women what to do -- like the way he barged into the house and decided to rummage around my kitchen and cook.

  Okay, so the cooking part wasn't really bad. That part was really good, actually. It's been a long time since a man has cooked for me. Scratch that. Make that ever. Edward wasn't big into cooking for me. Or doing much of anything else for me, come to think of it.

  Luke, on the other hand…looks like he knows how to do lots of things for women. The thought of what he could do for me makes heat rush through my body. It's been a long time – embarrassingly long – since I've gotten laid.

  Being pregnant and having a baby doesn't exactly make me marketable in terms of dating. My vibrator has become my best friend.

  That's only slightly depressing.

  I turn over in bed, trying to put side the thoughts of Luke Saint that keep running through my head. Like how he looked at me when he came walking up out of the orchard -- angry, soot smudged on his chiseled face, his shirt clinging to his body…

  Shit, I need to get laid. By someone my own age. Someone who's normal, stable. Not some young guy who lives down by the damn creek with his dog.

  I know Luke's type – guys like him come through West Bend, doing seasonal work in the summer, skiing and snow-boarding in the winter. They're adrenaline-seeking, responsibility-avoidant, womanizing jocks who just want to get stoned and get laid.

  The way his phone was blowing up at dinner, with texts from some girl tells me all I need to know about him. I've already had a womanizing bastard in my life. I definitely don't need to think about getting laid by another one.

  I groan, reaching into the bedside table to pull out my vibrator. Two years of pent-up frustration is obviously making me crazy.

  Sliding my hand underneath my soft cotton nightshirt, I cover my breast with my palm, trying to bring to mind the image of…someone else, anyone else except Luke Saint. I run through a litany of sexy male movie stars in my head, but all I can see when I close my eyes is that smug, self-assured grin of Luke's.

  I imagine his lips moving across the tops of my breasts, then down lower as he takes my breast in his mouth. I run my fingers over my breast, playing with my nipple, mimicking the way his tongue moves around in circles in my fantasy. When I slide my fingers between my legs, I picture his fingers doing the work that mine are doing on my clit.

  I can practically taste him on my lips as I picture myself taking his cock in my mouth, wrapping my lips around it. His cock is the last thing in the world I should be thinking about, and yet it's the only thing I can think about.

  A small moan escapes my lips as I press my vibrator between my legs, against my entrance. I'm wet, a bundle of need and want and ache, and the vibrator isn't what I want.

  When I slip it inside me, I'm imagining Luke between my legs, Luke's cock inside me. I imagine him riding me, my hands on his hard chest as he thrusts inside of me, harder and harder until I'm close to the edge.

  "Come for me, baby," he says, and I come harder and faster than I have in a long time. But when I lie back against the pillow in my bed, the ache between my legs is still there. I'm still not satisfied.

  Damn it, I think. I really need to get laid. But definitely not by Luke Saint.

  ***

  He's walking up to the house, his Labrador trailing behind him, wearing a light blue t-shirt under his jacket that somehow makes his blue eyes look even bluer. The dog runs up onto the porch, and Olivia squeals as the dog brushes up alongside her and then licks the side of her face.

  "Olivia," I warn.

  "She's fine," Luke says. "Lucy is real tolerant."

  "Olivia might not be," I say, eyeing her warily. "I'm waiting for her to reach out and grab a handful of fur and yank it. Toddlers can't be trusted, you know. Or…well, I guess you don't know."

  Luke shrugs. "I imagine they're a lot like dogs. Except you're not allowed to kennel the kid, right?" I give him a look and he laughs. "Don't look at me like that. I do know that much about kids, Red."

  "Are you seriously going to come out here and be my foreman?"

  "I've been looking over the orchard," he says.

  "Right now?"

  "Sweetheart, you're up late," he says.

  "It's eight in the morning."

  "I've been here since six. I couldn't sleep."

  "So you just thought you'd come over here and walk around my property?"

  He shrugs. "I needed to take a look around, see what I was up against," he says. "Nice piece of land you've got here."

  "Glad you approve."

  "The cidery was too easy to get into, you know," he says. "You've got a lot of expensive equipment sitting out there."

  "It should be locked up," I say, suddenly defensive.

  "Let me guess," he says. "That was your foreman's job?"

  "Are you going to keep lecturing me?" I ask. "It was part of his job, as a matter of fact. We had a problem, a couple weeks back, some guys poking around the property."

  "What kind of guys?"

  I wave my hand dismissively. "No big deal," I say. "Some guys from that mining company, the one buying up property in town. They came around here wanting to do some surveying. I wasn't here when it happened, and the foreman said he didn't let them on the place."

  "Are you thinking about selling?" Luke asks. "A lot of people around here are, I've heard."

  "So some mining company can come in and tear down the orchard I've just gotten started?" I ask. "Screw that."

  "All right then," he says, walking down the porch steps toward his truck. His dog perks her head up and follows after her owner, leaving Olivia sobbing with disappointment at the fact that her living plaything just trotted off.

  For a second, I think Luke is leaving, but instead he brings two paper bags from his truck and hands me one.

  I look inside. "You brought groceries?"

  "By your cranky-ass demeanor I'm going to assume you didn't eat breakfast yet," he says. "I think they call that hangry."

  "I was planning on having coffee," I say.

  Luke snorts. "That ain't breakfast," he says. "What's wrong with you? Doesn't your kid eat breakfast?"

  A surge of irritation rushes through me, and I take Olivia's hand in my empty one. "Yes, she eats breakfast," I say. "She just had oatmeal. Wait, are you just letting yourself inside my house again?"

  Luke holds open the door for me. "Has anyone ever told you that you need a lesson in accepting help?"

  I bristle at his words. "I don't need help, Luke Saint," I say, following him into the kitchen. Olivia walks with me, babbling happily: "Saint, Saint."

  "Hah, she's like a little parrot," Luke says, setting a bag on the kitchen counter and removing food items one by one.

  "Which is why you should watch your mouth."

  "Me?" he asks, turning around. He takes the bag out of my hands. "I think you're just as foul-mouthed as I am, and that kid of yours is going to wind up talking filthier than a sailor because of it."

  "I am not."

  He raises his eyebrows. "If you say so, Red," he says, grinning. "You've got a naughty side."

  "Wait