“Sorry?”

“Caucasian.”

“Yes,” I answered, deciding to move away from this strange turn of the conversation. “About the futon –”

“Do you know his birth date?”

“Luke –”

“Ava, what’s his f**king birthday?”

“July twenty-third, why are you asking me this?”

“You got a social security number?”

I felt a thrill slide through me as I cottoned on to the purpose of his interrogation and I shot up to a sitting position in the bed.

“Don’t you –!” I started to protest but Luke sat up too, faster than I’d seen anyone move giving new meaning to “abs of steel”. In the blink of an eye I found myself on my back, Luke full body on top of me.

“Get off me!” I shouted, bucking my body under his.

“This Noah guy’s got her.”

I was back to blinking, so confused I stilled. “Got who?” I asked.

“The old Ava.”

Instantly I felt the tears stinging my eyes, all fight left me and I turned my head to the side.

His hands came to either side of my face and he turned it back. “He took her when he disappeared, didn’t he?” Luke asked, his voice gentle.

Crapity, crap, crap, crap.

His gentle voice got me every f**king time.

“A piece of her,” I whispered, do not ask me why but I did (I knew why, The Voice).

“Who’s got the other pieces?”

I shook my head against his hands. I didn’t think the minuscule amount of information I shared on Noah boded well for Noah’s future. Luke, I was realizing, was not the kind of guy who f**ked around. I couldn’t imagine that Noah was still in town but I knew Rick and Dave were and I didn’t want Luke hunting them down and doing whatever. They were jerks but they were also history.

“Please, get off me,” I said softly.

“Ava, I spent years doin’ some crazy shit and gettin’ paid well for it. Well enough that by the time I came back to Denver for my father’s funeral I could retire.”

Ho-ly shit.

He’d been twenty-eight! What kind of “crazy shit” paid you enough to retire at twenty-eight?

I sucked in breath and stared.

“To keep from gettin’ bored, because I like it, because I’m good at it and because Lee pays me a shitload of money to do it, I work. I could walk away from it tomorrow and live a good life, even takin’ care of someone along the way.”

Whoa.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

I was digging deeper than ever to bury that.

“I’d never f**k you over, steal your money. No f**kin’ way.”

And even deeper to bury that.

“Please, Luke, get off me.”

To my surprise he did, sliding off to my side. I immediately turned my back to him and scooted away several inches. He wanted to sleep with me fine, we’d sleep. Then tomorrow, I was moving to Wyoming.

Luke had other ideas.

His arm slid under me, hooked at my waist and hauled me back into his body. The second I made contact, his body pressed into mine and his other arm went around me.

“I want her back,” he said into my hair and his words made me shiver. I had to close my eyes tight to stop my tears and my thoughts.

He went on. “I’ve decided I like the bitchy Ava, the way you throw your attitude around is sexy as hell, but I still want the old Ava back.”

“She’s gone,” I whispered again, do not ask me why.

His arms tightened and his mouth came to my ear.

“She’s right here.”

* * * * *

You would have thought I’d never get to sleep after that but somehow I did.

Deeper in the night, when it was still dark, my body moved again not of its own volition.

Sometime during the night we’d come face-to-face. Arms around me, he rolled me over his body and to his other side. Again he hooked my leg over his hip.

“Why do you do that?” I whispered sleepily as I wrapped my arm around his waist, slid the fingers of my other hand into the hair at his chest and pressed in close to his warm, hard body.

He might have answered but I didn’t hear him because I was already back to sleep.

* * * * *

I woke and the light was trying to force its way through my shades.

I was back in the position I’d woken up in yesterday, tight against Luke’s side, arm wrapped around his abs, leg thrown over his thighs.

Shit.

I tilted my head and looked at him to see that he was still asleep. I didn’t have clear vision but even with the mini-blur his face in sleep somehow still looked hard.

I rolled away and he moved into the space I left. I stilled and looked at him but he didn’t wake.

I grabbed my glasses (kickass, black-rimmed, oval-framed, D&G) from the nightstand, yanked my thin, yellow-green, cotton cardigan off the hook on the back of the door and got the hell out of there.

I went to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed and flossed and settled my hair in a less messy but still tangled bundle on top of my head.

I put on my glasses and shrugged on the cardigan as I went downstairs to the kitchen, grabbed myself a cold diet soda from the fridge and started some coffee. I cut up fruit, enough for both Luke and me, tossed his in a bowl and put it in the fridge. I dumped a couple of globs of yogurt on mine, sprinkled it with my homemade granola (delicious with tons of sesame seeds and almonds) and did what I did every morning when it was semi-warm.

I took my bowl and diet soda, went to the back porch, sat on the bright cushion of my wicker loveseat with my heels to the edge and my knees pointed skyward. Then I stared at the sun hitting my yard and, while eating, planned my day.

First up, get rid of Luke.

Second, go workout with Riley.

Third, get some work done.

Fourth, learn how to become a lesbian.

“Babe,” I heard and my head twisted to see Luke standing in the door to the porch wearing nothing but his cargo pants, belt not done (and neither was the top button) and an intriguing trail of black hair disappearing into his waistband.

God, he was f**king hot.

So much for becoming a lesbian.

“Hey,” I said.

He gave me a sexy half-grin.

I got up and walked to him. He moved out of my way as I went into the kitchen and put my empty bowl in the sink.

“You want coffee?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

He was standing, arms crossed, hip against the counter, watching me move.

Ee-yikes!

I pulled down a cup ignoring his eyes on me (or trying, and, admittedly, failing). “You want some breakfast? Fruit, yogurt and granola?”