Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Read online

  Autumn

  “Daisy,” I say, squatting down to show Olivia the flower. She takes it between her chubby little fingers before putting it up to her nose and sniffing deeply. Overtaken by the need to sneeze, she wrinkles her nose and sneezes loudly.

  “Daisy,” she repeats, throwing it on the ground with disgust and wiping her nose as she looks at me accusingly.

  “Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” I say, laughing. “I didn’t make you sneeze. What an attitude. You're a toddler going on sixteen years old.”

  Olivia recovers immediately, ignoring me as she darts forward, taking uneven, uneasy steps through the grass, off to discover something else. She’s been awake since five this morning, burning with incredible energy that I’m jealous of, so we’re on an early nature walk, which basically means we’re exploring the yard while I mainline caffeine and try to keep my bleary eyes open.

  We make our way at a snail’s pace across the lawn when I see Luke’s truck in the front. Lucy reaches us, bounding across the grass, her tail wagging excitedly. She paws at my leg in greeting, then makes her way over to Olivia where she drops down in the grass in front of her, head over her paws, tail still swishing back and forth. Olivia squeals, then flops down on her belly in the grass, a mirror image of the dog.

  “Lucy’s found her soul mate," Luke says.

  I’m focused so intently on Olivia – more specifically, on making sure that Olivia doesn’t yank the ears off the poor dog – that I don’t even notice Luke. But as soon as I hear his voice, my heart races, and the familiar heat I felt before in his presence immediately returns.

  I’m not sure if the butterflies in my stomach are attraction or nerves.

  He walks toward me, faded denim and a grey weathered t-shirt that looks so soft I immediately want to run my hands across the fabric. Across his chest.

  But he looks tired, the same way he appeared when I saw him in the store. There’s a sadness in his eyes that makes me want to hug him, but instead, I stand there with my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “I didn’t think you’d be back,” I remark.

  Damn it. That’s what you lead with, Autumn? It sounds like you don’t want him here.

  Shit. I keep telling myself I haven’t dated anyone in two years because I’ve been focused on being a mother. But hell, I’m just awful at dating. Of course, we’re not exactly dating, are we? All we had was a little fling that meant nothing. That’s what I tell myself as I stand here in front of him, my heart fluttering in my chest like I’m a teenage girl with a crush.

  “Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment,” Luke says, one eyebrow raised. “But I can leave if you’d like.”

  “No!” I say, my voice firm. “I mean, you can stay. If you want. I’m not telling you to stay. Only if you want to stay. I mean… damn it. I’m sorry,” I finally get out. “About… About the other day.”

  Fuck. This apology is coming out well.

  “You were right,” he says. “I shouldn’t have presumed.”

  I dig the toe of my shoe into the dirt, not looking at him. “You were trying to do something nice,” I say. “But that’s my kid.”

  “I get it, man. I mean, I had you pegged as the paranoid type, for sure.”

  I look up, mouth half open, about to really give him a piece of my mind, but he’s grinning, his hands raised in the air in mock surrender. “Man?”

  Luke laughs and winks. “It's an expression,” he defends, mock-punching me lightly on the arm. “We’re totally friends, right?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What is it you youngsters say? We’re bros?”

  He laughs long and low, the sound warm. Then, he steps forward, crossing the space between us, and looks down at me. “We’re not bros, Red.”

  “Friends, then,” I amend, my throat suddenly thick.

  “Nope.”

  “No?”

  “Do you want to be friends?” he asks me.

  Do I want to be friends? I can barely remember my own name when he stands this close, looking down at me the way he is right now. “Maybe.”

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t.”

  From a few feet away, Olivia emits a high-pitched squeal, startling Luke and I both. She flaps her arms wildly and beside her, Lucy jumps erratically through the grass, chasing something. "Lucy-girl," Luke calls. "She's probably tearing after a frog. She loves those."

  Olivia trails after Lucy, a toddler trying to keep up with whatever exciting drama the dog brings, and we follow the two across the lawn silently.

  "I didn't mean to jump your ass before," I go on. "I know you were trying to be nice. I just… haven't…"

  Luke stops, looking at me. "Been around someone so damn hot before?"

  I'm in the middle of a sip of coffee, and I almost spit it. "Yeah, that's it."

  My voice practically drips with sarcasm, except he’s pegged it exactly. I'm losing my shit over a hot guy. It's ridiculous, and the narcissistic ass totally knows it.

  "It's a common problem," Luke lets me know. "I don't mean to brag, but I deal with it a lot."

  “I imagine women are always losing their shit around you."

  “You mean it as an insult, but I take it as a compliment,” Luke says, grinning.

  “I think you take everything as a compliment.”

  “Daisy!” Olivia runs toward us, her distaste for the flower now forgotten. I reach out for it, but she hands it to Luke instead.

  “Well, now, thank you, little Olivia,” he says, squatting down and taking the proffered flower for a second before she rips it back from his hand and laughs as she turns around. He stands up, watching her run away. “Well, hell, for a second there I thought I was special.”

  “At least you got offered a flower,” I say. “Her affection is fleeting.”

  Luke turns toward me, his gaze penetrating. “What about her mother’s?”

  My breath hitches in my throat. “What about her mother’s what?”

  “Is yours?”

  I clear my throat. My heart pounds in my chest so loudly. “Is my affection fleeting?”

  “That’s what I asked,” he says, running a finger down my arm, the movement so subtle it would be barely perceptible to anyone else. But when he touches me, it's like electricity floods my body, sending shockwaves of arousal through me. When he touches me, I picture his hands caressing me, his mouth on mine.

  With one touch, one brush of his finger against my skin, I can feel him inside me.

  I want him inside me.

  The feeling is stronger than anything I’ve ever known.

  “Well?”

  “No,” I say, my voice wavering, drenched with arousal.

  “Good,” he whispers, leaning closer. “I’d hate to think you’d forgotten me so quickly.”

  As if I could forget. The memory of his touch is imprinted on my skin.

  “Wait, you think I’m the paranoid type?” I ask, deliberately changing the subject. The last thing I need is to be a puddle of goo, a bundle of need and want, right out here in the yard when my employees show up for work. The nanny should be here soon, and I know she already suspects something by the way I look at Luke. I can only imagine how the old ladies in town would gossip about a scandal involving Luke Saint and I.

  Luke shrugs. “If the shoe fits. I didn’t mean it as an insult, though. You should be paranoid when it comes to your kid. I respect you for it.”

  “Oh, you respect me?” I ask, laughing. “Somehow I get the impression that Luke Saint doesn’t respect anyone.”

  A strange look crosses his face, and I think for a second that I’ve hurt him again. “I might be flippant about a lot of things, but there are some things – some people – I do respect.” He looks at me meaningfully, and I swallow hard.

  Suddenly, I think that maybe I’ve been wrong about him, that I’ve written him off as a stereotypical younger guy – immature, thrill-seeking, whoring around – but that there’s more to Luke Saint than I’d thought.

  Then I catch where his ga