All This Time Page 9

  Alas, I am officially on vacation and I’m going to stop talking about work. And whatever nuisance Connor becomes while I’m gone, I’ll handle it because Brielle’s excitement is catching on.

  The needle on my dash board sags heavy near the E. I make the choice to get gas in the morning before we get on the road. All the gas stations surrounding us tend to be ten to twenty cents higher than the places a few miles south.

  Paul’s powers of persuasion were unyielding, but I’m hoping this trip won’t hurt the little bit of new friendship Della and I have started working on. I’m still not sure it was smart to commit to so many days with someone I haven’t been around in a long time.

  At home I ask Brielle to check that she’s packed everything she’ll need for the next four days. I’ll go through it all myself, anyway, but right now I need to pack my own belongings.

  Throughout the week, I left piles of clothing out after doing the laundry. I finish my packing easy enough, and notice the time. Brielle will be getting hungry for dinner soon. Deciding to splurge for one night, and not feeling up to cooking, I ask her if she wants a pizza delivered tonight.

  “I love pizza!”

  She’s jumping around with her craziness when my phones rings.

  It’s Della.

  “All ready to go for tomorrow?” she asks.

  “We are all set.”

  “Ethan is so happy to have a friend going.”

  “Bri won’t stop talking about it either.”

  “This will fun. We can catch up and relax and let the guys handles things.” She sounds more like she’s trying to reassure herself than me. Looks like I wasn’t the only one worried about this being something too big too soon.

  I hope she’s right. I want the chance to catch up to all I’ve missed.

  And our kids are so happy.

  When Della and I were younger we would daydream how our children were going to be best friends like us. We had it all planned out. Marry men around the same time, and get pregnant at the same time. Little did we know, life was much more complicated once we grew up.

  There was never a possibility we would no longer be friends.

  Or that one of us would get knocked up right after high school.

  Adulting was a brutal beast.

  “Did you say ‘guys’?” I ask.

  As in plural. More than Paul.

  “It would be easier if you didn’t have to drive, right?”

  Brielle ran off to the kitchen for the menu to the pizza place down the street. Our order was simple, but I’d need their number. We didn’t order in often.

  Back in front of me, waving the paper in my face, I took the menu but held up a hand signal for her to patiently wait.

  She walks back to the living room coffee table where she played with the same lego set from earlier.

  I never made my financial straights known to anyone, but I gather it was easy for others to draw their own conclusions. And it was a lot of miles from here to the water park, so I answered truthfully.

  “I don’t mind the drive, but if we’re talking about hitching a ride in the RV we could head to your house first.”

  “We’re already leaving stupidly early as it is, so y’all would have to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to meet us here. But Luke offered to drive y’all.”

  Luke is going. This is news. Not once has she mentioned him joining the trip, let alone talked about him at all.

  “I wasn’t aware he was going,” I reply robotically.

  “He wasn’t, actually.” She says this with a tight lipped murmur. “Paul told him, and he decided last minute.”

  “Well, I appreciate the offer, but it doesn’t make sense for him to wait on us to get down there when he can just ride with y’all.”

  “That’s what I told him, but he’s got that hero complex and won’t listen, you know?”

  No. I don’t know. Because what I’m picking up on in her frustration—now and the night at her house—is a problem with Luke giving me and Brielle a sliver of his attention.

  “He thinks he knows you so well, even with the six year gap missing.” My stomach knotted at the hit. Does she hear herself? Pulling out the chair nearest to where I stood by the dining room table, I sat down and put my head in my hand. “So he just took off. That way you can’t refuse.”

  My head shot up so fast I probably pulled a muscle.

  “He’s here?”

  “Should be by now.”

  “Where?”

  “Probably a hotel. I’m not positive. He wouldn’t take my last call.”

  “Give me his number.” I fumbled through Brielle’s backpack on the chair beside me, pulling out pencil and paper.

  “Liv, he’s probably already there.”

  “I’m not calling to tell him it was a wasted drive. We’re about to have dinner. I’m going to invite him over.”

  You’re doing what now??

  For Brielle, of course. She would love to see her uncle.

  Suuuuuuure.

  Part of the reason the idea popped in my head was to taunt Della. One on one we were getting along great. But this is the second time she’s seemed like a completely different person all because Luke was going to be alone with me.

  Well, we won’t be alone. But you get it.

  Her fiancé is great…Am I missing something here?

  After hanging up with Della I called the number she gave me. He didn’t answer. And if I didn’t hear his voice with my own ears at the voicemail, I would have placed blame on Della for giving me the wrong number.

  Instead of leaving a message, I hung up and sent him a text.

  Me: It’s Liv. Call me back when you get close to my area.

  Almost instantly, my phone rings.

  “Very presumptuous to drive two hours in the opposite direction,” I say as a greeting. His throaty chuckle greets my ear. “So I hear you’re in my neck of the woods.”

  “Didn’t want to give you any reason to turn down a free ride,” Luke replies, his deep, husky voice sends chills down my back. “You’re stubborn. I knew you would say no.”

  Well, Della, that much hasn’t changed about me in six years.

  “Can’t deny that.”

  He chuckles.

  “We were about to order a pizza. Are you hungry?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the smiling at bay.

  I shouldn’t be smiling. I was asking Luke Bennett—no matter how old I get, or how far from Calusa I live, that Bennett name will always carry its weight with me—to come to my home for dinner.

  “How about you call it in, and I’ll pick it up. Text me the address.”

  “Sounds good. Anything special you like on it?”

  “Supreme. And you should probably order two. I eat a lot.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Do not pay,” he tells me in a stern voice.

  “You drove out of your way to pick us up, and will be driving that gas hog of yours for nearly four hours tomorrow. I’m paying for dinner, so tough shit.”

  “See. Stubborn.” I hear the smile spreading across his lips.

  “See you soon, Luke.”

  When I hang up, biting the inside of my mouth is no longer working on holding the grin back.

  Five minutes later the pizza is ordered. I’ve texted him the location and the address to our apartment.

  Brielle was psyched to learn who would be having dinner with us, staying the night, and driving us to the park tomorrow.

  “This is going to be the best week of my life!” she yelled with enthusiasm.

  Her joy made me smile so hard.

  I chewed heavy at my bottom lip while another thought crossed my mind.

  Just do it, Liv.

  Me: Were you already at a hotel when I called?

  Luke: Not yet. I was just getting off the interstate. Good timing.

  Me: I have a couch. You’re definitely too big for it, but you’re welcome to spend the night here.

  Luke: I can get a
hotel, Liv.

  Me: I’m offering. Up to you what you decide.

  Luke: Your small couch it is then.

  While we waited for Luke to arrive, I checked Brielle’s luggage to see what she packed. After I folded laundry yesterday I placed a basket full of her clothes and told her to pick what she wanted. She did good, plenty of shirts, shorts, and underwear, but everything needed to be refolded.

  Blowing an exasperated breath, I take it all back out and replace them in her bag neatly. Then I tidy up her room, because I hate leaving the house in disarray when we leave overnight. Another bonus to getting take out. Paper plates will insure no dirty dishes to leave in the sink.

  None other than what my five year old will dirty in the next couple of hours, at least. Trust me when I say she can fill the sink with dirty dishes in a short amount of time. Why do children think they need a new glass every time they get something to drink?

  Twenty minutes later I’m in the kitchen pouring a glass of wine to calm my nerves. Luke causes jitters that want to crawl out of my skin. My body is humming knowing he will be here soon, and under the same roof all night long.

  Right as I’m downing my first glass of red, there’s a knock at the door.

  Brielle jumps up from her spot on the floor, literally hopping over the couch to get to the door. She starts reaching for the locks when I yell at her.

  “Brielle Rose, you know better than to open that door without seeing who is there,” I chide her in a stern tone.

  “But we know who it is,” she talks back.

  “That is not the point.”

  “Ugh. Who’s there?” she calls out to the other side.

  “It’s Luke,” I hear him reply.

  “Seeeee.”

  “Do not get snarky with me, little girl.”

  Pulling back the remaining locks, I open our apartment door, finding a comical looking Luke.

  “Heard that did ya?” I ask him.

  “As entertaining as that was, I have to agree with your mom, Brielle. You should always know who is at the door before you open it.”

  “Uh-huh.” Evasion is key with kids. She smiles sweetly, stepping back to let him in. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Luke steps inside our comfortable-sized apartment, and suddenly the whole 1000 square feet of our living space shrinks.

  In a solid white shirt that hugs his tremendous torso, paired with dark jeans and brown boots, he walks by me. I shut the door after him, slipping the locks back in place.

  It’s my damn home and I’m hesitating in the doorway. While he’s clothed and looking fresh, I’m Frumpy McGee over here sporting a wild mass of flyaways coming out of my ponytail.

  Genius move, Liv. Invite the hot guy over when you’re nothing but a hot mess.

  Then again we were going to be sharing an RV for a few days, so he’s likely to see worse soon enough.

  “Who’s hungry?” He carries two large pizza boxes over to the table.

  “Me!” Brielle cheers.

  Uh-huh. Me too.

  Luke sets the pizzas down while I fetch the plates and drinks. In the cabinets, I reach for a princess cup and set it beside the fridge. Turning around to ask Luke what he wants to drink, I find him directly behind me and gasp.

  “Sorry,” he smirks, sheepishly.

  “Um,” I swallow. “Wine?”

  “Not with pizza.” He lips pinch in the cutest way, turning his nose up at it.

  “I stopped for beer and then realized you might not allow that around Brielle. So I left it in the truck.”

  Consideration like that reminds me what its like to have people know me so well. I’d be the first to admit I’ve changed in a lot of ways, but some areas were too ingrained.

  “I drink wine. A lot. Kids will do that to you. Go grab your beer, I don’t mind.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. She can’t be sheltered forever,” I smile.

  Luke slides a look to Brielle who’s lifting the lid on one of the boxes, proceeding to pick pepperoni off.

  “Nothing wrong doing it a little while longer,” he says, quietly.

  Luke retrieves the beer from his truck. We’re waiting at the table when he walks back in. But he bypasses us to the kitchen, opening the same cabinet I got Brielle’s cup from. He pops the cap off the bottle and pours the fizzy liquid in an aqua blue cup.

  When he catches my gaze as he sits down in front of us, Luke just shrugs like it’s no big deal.

  We eat, Brielle picking all the pepperoni off her slice, as usual. One night not too long ago, I told her the pizza tasted better with the pepperoni on the slice of pizza. She said she liked eating it with only cheese. So the next time I ordered a cheese pizza. She had a complete melt down. It was an odd quirk, but I learned to embrace it and let her eat it her way.

  Finishing off my first slice, I watched Luke reach for his second. The lid pulled back and my mouth watered. All those peppers, onions, mushrooms, sausage, and so many other goodies. I only ever ordered pizza with one topping. Besides the fact that Brielle would never eat them, I was is constant penny saving mode. Multiple toppings cost extra.

  Luke caught me drooling.

  With the top held open, he said, “Take a slice.”

  “I’m okay, thank you though.”

  “Just take it. I know you want to.” He winked.

  I rolled my eyes, trying to act like that wink didn’t effect me.

  He was going to have me drooling for other reasons soon.

  I held back a moan—for my prides sake—as the delectable flavors exploded in my mouth.

  “Good?” he asks, as if he heard it regardless.

  “Mmhmm,” I hum, mouth too full to speak.

  All throughout, Brielle watched him with a diligent eye. She took in every detail of his face and mannerisms. Turns out Mommy’s not the only one in awe.

  Luke caught on to her secretive glances. Every time he would lift his head she’d quickly glance away.

  After a few minutes of toying with her, Luke waited for her to do it again. As soon as her eyes landed on him he turned his face her way, poking his tongue out.

  She jumped in her seat, and fell into a fit of giggles.

  Her laughter was contagious and had us joining in. Luke smiled over at her as if she’s the cutest kid in the world. I already knew that, but hey, I’m her mom. I’m biased.

  Then Brielle decided to kill the mood.

  “Does my dad look like you?”

  Her question had our laughter dying off at an abrupt halt.

  Luke shot me a tense look of help. But I didn’t have a clue what to say. Brielle never asks about her father. She’s always known the facts—he left before she was born. I expected more questions after our trip to my hometown, after she met her uncle. But none came.

  It stung wondering if my daughter felt like she couldn’t talk to me about her father. Maybe that’s why she directed her curiosity at her uncle instead.

  “In some ways,” Luke responds, keeping it vague.

  “I’ve only seen one picture of him.”

  “He has blue eyes,” Luke states, glancing at me for approval to continue. At my nod, he keeps going. “But they’re a different shade than yours. You definitely got your mom’s eyes, Bri.”

  “But you have brown eyes. So how does he look like you?”

  “I guess he doesn’t really.” Luke chuckles. And I would have to agree. Though the Bennett brothers are both equally gorgeous, they don’t have many similarities. “Our skin. You have the same natural, tanned skin.”

  “Really?” Her eyes light up.

  “I mean, look at your mom. She’s kinda pale.”

  I drop my mouth open. “I’m not that pale.”

  Brielle extends an arm, stretching it along mine on top of the table.

  “I am darker.”

  Luke adds his arm to the bunch. “See. That’s that Bennett tan.”

  “So cool,” Brielle breaths, grinning at him.

  “Your da
d’s the same,” he says softly.

  “I want to look at the picture again, Mommy. The one with Uncle Luke’s bad hair.”

  I nod, laughing despite the turn of discussion, and grunt my approval of her assessment.

  “What’s that?” His mischievous smirk studies me.

  “I have to agree with my daughter. Your long hair was…not my favorite.”

  His gapes. “Seriously?”

  I bite my lip and nod.

  “Why did you cut it?” Brielle asks.

  “The Army. They shaved it off during basic training. Never grew it back after that.” He turns back to me. “Everyone loved my hair back then. It got me a lot of…compliments.”

  I scoff at the way he curves his language there at the end.

  “Oh, I remember the all the compliments quite well. But I had a personal vendetta against your hair.”

  “It looked that bad?” Luke seems honestly shocked I’m telling him this.

  “Not bad. You pulled it off in your own way, that’s for sure. I just always thought you would look better without it.”

  “And? Do I look better?”

  His voice drops a notch lower, the sultry purr running up my neck. Luke’s fishing for complements, and I take the bait.

  We’re discussing his hair, but for some reason, his mouth provokes my interest. It’s his husky voice that’s responsible for the heat building and rising below my stomach. The words that cross between his smooth lips. Lips I’ve felt against my own mouth.

  I bit my lip, catching myself. My daughter is not even a foot away from me and I’m fantasizing about her uncle who sits here with us.

  Averting his dark eyes, I lift mine to the short, brown hair on his head. It’s cut thin on the sides and in the back. Gradually thickening as I survey the top. His hair has that natural styled bounce. No product required. It’s dark and shiny and begging for a set of hands to bury its fingers in.

  My hands twitch. My fingers want that opportunity.

  Straightening, I look away. Brielle’s eyes track from me to Luke.

  He’s watching with intense recognition. I forgot how intoxicating the Bennett boys were. It’s time to climb out of this rabbit hole.

  “Yep. Much better.” My head bobs in a nod, meant to be simple and only once, but I keep on going like a bunny. I need deflection, and to stop the humility, so I gather our trash and take it to the kitchen.