Weak for Him (15 page)

Typical small town rumors laced
with typical small town talk.

"Oh, hey." I couldn't remember her
name; how embarrassing. "I've been up to nothing, just working. And
no, I'm not engaged."

Better to squash the rumor while I
had a chance. The girl looked at Luke, and I knew what this meant,
she
expected
an introduction.

"This is Luketon Brand, my
boyfriend
."

She took his hand willingly. "Oh a
pleasure, Mr. Brand. I'm Julie Jean."

"Call me Luke, please."

She giggled nervously. "Where are
you from, Luke? Not here, obviously."

I gritted my teeth. This was how
rumors exploded into the abyss. The chatty women only need a little
bit of information and the stories would spread like
wildfire.

"I'm from a little town in the
U.K. close to London."

"Oohhh. Well, welcome to Texas,
honey."

She didn't take her eyes from
Luke, and I didn't blame her. He looked good. The teal polo shirt
accentuated his crystal blue eyes. Any woman around here would be
insane to not go for a beautiful, single man like him.

"Well, if you and Jennifer ever
break up, you call me, darlin'."

I placed my hand close to my mouth
and whispered "I'm sorry." He gave a nod toward me and sipped his
wine as she walked away.

"How embarrassing," I
said.

He played along. "I may ring her
if she leaves her number."

"Hardy har har. Just your type,
Luke."

He leaned across the table and
asked, "What is my type?"

"I'd like to think I'm your type,"
I whispered.

Luke bit his bottom lip. That
drove me wild.

"I'd like to think you are as
well," he said.

He smiled and sipped his wine. Not
having anything else to do, I sipped mine as well.

"I love the way the cranberry
tastes. It's like a tingle, and then an explosion in your mouth. I
love that freakin' winery."

Once the spaghetti arrived, I
grabbed my utensils and ate it the way I learned in etiquette
training. Spinning the noodles on the spoon until they were
completely twisted around the fork, and then taking small bites as
not to splash the sauce on my face. Also, I didn't finish my meal,
not because "a lady never finishes her plate," but rather, the
hometown portions were much larger than I had
remembered.

At times throughout the evening, I
felt like a stranger to my own customs. As if I were a ship lost at
sea, finally reaching my destination, but not recognizing it as I
remembered. I had changed too much, too quickly.

Luke paid the bill, and the girl
at the counter told me that Abbie was at the restaurant earlier
that night.
Shit, Abbie.
I had completely forgotten to tell
her I was home. I'd text her as soon as I got back to the
house.

The headlights reflected from the
stone white pavement leading up to the house. I drove slow and
parked on the edge of the driveway. Luke opened his hand, and I
gave him the keys.

As we walked up the steps to the
porch, he followed close behind. Before I could get to the top, he
pulled my hand to turn me around. My face was so close to his. His
breath felt warm on my cheeks. Gently, he tucked my hair behind my
ear and bit his bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful," he
whispered.

I led him up the steps and lifted
myself onto the railing as he stood in front of me. My breathing
increased, and pulse quickened. Luke leaned in and brushed his lips
against mine, making sure not to press. We couldn't break the
contract, but instead mildly walked the fine line that Finn had
created for us. Instinctively, not caring, I trailed my hands up
his shirt and lightly brushed my fingers across his stomach
muscles. As his mouth found my neck and earlobe, I
swallowed.

"I wish I would have met you
before you signed that ridiculous contract," he said.

"You wouldn't have given me a
chance if I weren't an Elite."

I lifted my chin toward him and
looked into his eyes, full of hope, want, and… lust? He lightly
trailed up my neck with his lips. With my eyes closed, I wanted
nothing more than to be kissed by him, to feel his lips mingling
with mine, fully tasting him. With every bit of strength I could
muster without losing my balance, I pulled him closer to me and
stood. Returning his nibbles and kisses, but making sure to leave
our lips apart from one another.

"I want to kiss you so bad right
now, it's driving me mad," he said.

"We can't," I said,
defeated.

"I know."

I took his hand and led him up the
stairs to my old bedroom. Before turning off the light, I
unbuttoned each button on the black dress until it slid from my
shoulders onto the floor. Dark blue bra and panties—a set that Finn
had given to me when I first joined the ranks of The Elite—hugged
to my body like a glove. Luke smiled and bit that sexy lip, that
juicy delicious lip that I wanted to kiss me all over.

"It's your turn," I said. With his
shirt in his index finger and thumb, he did a little twirling
motion as if he were giving me my own personal strip tease. I
laughed.

"Shh. They might hear us," he
said.

Off went his polo, and then his
white undershirt—nothing but abs and chest, and tattoos.

"Whoa. Stop right there, mister.
You didn't say anything about these. What does that one
say?"

A tattoo under his pectoral muscle
read:

Don't go around

saying the world

owes you a living.

The world owes

you nothing.

It was here first.

–
Mark Twain

He ran his fingers through his
thick brown hair and I caught sight of the heart on the back of his
arm, and the word "Loyalty" down his side in script, and the
two-inch number thirteen set below his belly button on his right
abdominal.

He caught me staring, admiring,
all of his beautiful tattoos. Luketon Brand wasn't who I thought he
was. That man didn't exist.

"Turn off the light, and come to
bed. We have an early flight tomorrow. There is a little change of
plans."

"We're leaving early?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But we can
come back anytime you'd like."

I crawled in bed and rubbed my
cold skin against his warmth. I looped my leg over his and trailed
my fingers lightly over his stomach. His breaths were ragged and
slow, and I knew that with every touch he told himself no. Luke
grabbed my hands and interlaced his fingers with mine, and I tucked
into his arms. Before I fell asleep, he pulled his arm away and set
my head carefully on the pillow. In a whisper, he said, "One day, I
will have to tell you what each one means. They are all very
special to me."

He kissed my forehead before
rolling over. As he turned, the moonlight allowed me to see the
feather tattoo on his shoulder that crumbled away into
birds.

Sixteen

T
he next morning, I woke up
before the sun rose, stole the keys to the car, and grabbed the
flowers from the vase on the table. I couldn't tell Luke I was
going to the cemetery, and was surprised he didn't wake when I
scooted from bed.

As I placed the car in park, the
sun barely peeked over the river. The sky had bits of blue and pink
sprinkled around, and wispy clouds that greeted me as if I were the
only human alive watching the sun rise.

The grass, still wet with morning
dew, crunched under my feet as I walked past the many headstones
leading to my parent's graves. I refused to visit before I went to
Vegas the first time. I wouldn't leave again without doing
so.

The flowers looked nice in the
grave vases. I should have been more prepared, but tried to push
out the waves of guilt. Their pictures stared back at me from the
headstone, both marked with the same death date, both next to one
another. They would have wanted it that way, I thought. Neither one
being able to go on without the other, they were too in love, even
after all those years.

My father would have stolen the
moon for my mother and delivered it with a bow if he could have,
and vice versa.
Love.
The word seemed so foreign.

I knelt down in front of the
headstones and looked up at the heavens. The clouds continued to
move. The sun hung a little higher while the sky faded from pink to
light blue. I stared for minutes without blinking, feeling nothing
but blankness.

Would a person ever get over
death?

Death.

It seemed so unfair to every
living thing. But something I would have to accept. Everything died
and became a part of the universe, and the stars. Eventually, we
would all be dust and nothing that we did in life would
matter.

I knelt down and picked at the
grass that had barely started to grow. They had only been gone for
a blink in time.

"I love you both so much. Every
day that you aren't here, I feel like something is missing. I hope.
I hope that if you can hear me that you know that I love you. Did
you see the house? It's exactly how you always wanted it, down to
the wall being removed from the living room to open up the
space."

I laughed to swallow down the
tears. I wouldn't cry. I couldn't cry. Crying was a sign of
weakness, and I refused.

"You didn't warn me that it would
be this hard. Sometimes I feel like I can't go on, and that I don't
want to."

I took in a deep breath, trying
not to lose it.

"I want you to be proud of
me."

I stood, and dusted off my wet
knees and touched the headstones before walking away.

Little, yellow butterflies
fluttered in front of me as if it were a sign from my parents
telling me they loved me. And if it wasn't, I would take it as if
was anyway. On the way back, I stopped at Davis Donuts and picked
up a few maple bacon donuts and kolaches. Mr. Davis, the owner,
gave me a grin, wished me a safe trip back to Vegas, and refused to
take my money.
Typical.

I walked up the steps where Luke
sat in a rocking chair drinking a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," I said.

"Morning, love," he said, and then
glanced down at my wet, grass-stained knees. I handed him the bag,
and forced him to eat the best damn bacon donut in Texas before we
went upstairs for our bags.

On the way out the door, I hugged
the Hanleys goodbye and thanked them for the beautiful job they did
with the place. Once our luggage was packed in the trunk, Luke
hopped in the car, waiting before starting it.

"Are you going to tell me where
you really went this morning?"

"Will you tell me what the
thirteen symbolizes?"

"Touché. I will tell you, but you
first."

"I went to the
cemetery."

"To?"

"Take care of some business that
I've been putting off."

"It's the day I was born. March
thirteenth."

"Will you tell me about the house
we stayed in?"

"Tell me about the Mark Twain
quote."

He smiled a devilish grin. "You
are bound to find out more about them one way or another, aren't
you?"

"I think it's a fair
trade."

"My mother read a lot of Mark
Twain to me when I was a kid. That quote symbolized every harsh
thing that's happened to me in life while reminding me of her." He
paused, and then continued. "The world owes me nothing. I'm nothing
more than a small footprint. I know it seems that I've had things
handed to me on a silver platter, but… it isn't true. I want you to
know that."

"Wow. That's powerful. And I
didn't. The longer I'm with you, the more I realize how much I
don't know about you."

"I could say the same about you.
So. Carry on. Tell me."

I sucked in a deep
breath.

"I grew up in that house. The room
we slept in, that was my old bedroom."

Luke didn't ask any more
questions. He didn't need to, and I respected him for not
prying.

"I didn't know, you know. I'd have
never brought you here if I would have," he said.

"I know. Your intentions were
where they needed to be. I get it. It's no big deal. But next time,
I think I'd prefer a beach."

Laughter filled the car. Beaches,
we both hated them.

"I want to bring you to London.
Have you ever been there before?"

I shook my head.

"I want to walk through the
streets of Paris with you, let you experience
my
tourist
city since I've already enjoyed yours. We can watch the Eiffel
tower light the night sky, and drink wine. I want to take you
through the heart of historic areas. It isn't the same as the
States, you know. It's almost magical. I want you to experience it
all, the Seine River, the Notre Dame Cathedral, the things most
only think exist in fairy tales."