Because of Luke Page 24

  "It's Ross's birthday. The whole reason we're all here." With a flip of her curls over the shoulder, Coco steps through the door again. "Hurry up. Everyone's dying to meet the sister of the one and only Sheila Carlson." She winks. "You're already a legend."

  I stand in the middle of the room, stunned for a moment. But as I start to put the pieces together, I realize I should have seen this coming. This is Sheila. Of course there's a party. All that talk about my boring life and how I needed to break out of my shell. She orchestrated the whole thing. Even went so far as to hook Mom.

  I let out a heavy sigh. My sister's a piece of work.

  And while, I'd rather stay in bed, I know I'll never pull it off. The moment she finds out I'm awake she'll be up here to drag me down. I might as well get it over with. I just hope there are enough people milling about that I'm able to avoid the one person I haven't seen all day. The one I really don't want to see.

  I empty my shopping bag and lay the clothes out on the bed. While we were out, Sheila convinced me to try on a plaid school girl skirt and a midriff cotton button down. I ditched the midriff and kept the skirt, paring it with a white ribbed tank top. It's not something I'd normally wear, but it works. It accents all the good parts, my Baywatch boobs, my Buns of Steel ass and my runner’s legs which I thankfully didn't lose during my stint as a human incubator.

  Lingering in the mirror, I pat down my hair. Then I head for the stairs. I'm only half way down before I see him and I've just decided to run back up and hide when Sheila calls out to me.

  "You're awake!" She runs to meet me at the foot of the stairs and I keep my gaze fixed on her. "You hungry? Dash bought barbecue."

  I nod and stick close behind her on the way to the kitchen. I can feel all eyes on me, and even though I know it's rude, considering I'm a guest in their house, I can't bring myself to look back over my shoulder and a say thing. My tongue is caught between my clenched teeth as I train my eyes straight forward.

  "I can't believe you," I hiss, once we're in the kitchen.

  Sheila passes me a little plastic cup and asks innocently, "What?"

  "A party? Really? This is why you asked me to come here, isn't it?" I take the cup staring at the jiggly green contents and my gaze flits back up to her.

  "I'm sorry, I lied. But to be fair, we did do all the things we said we would. This is just an added bonus. Now drink up," she instructs. "You're here to have fun."

  "I'm not...I can't. I'm breast feeding."

  Sheila snickers. "I don't see a baby anywhere, besides I've done my research. It's called a pump and dump. You drink all you want today, squeeze it all out tomorrow and little Ray won't even know the difference."

  Obviously I'm aware of this, but can I risk having an impaired mind while in the same square footage as Lucas?

  "Come on," Sheila pleads. "I won't let anything happen to you. I swear. You deserve this."

  I really do.

  "You've been a good girl for years. Now you're a mom. Just let loose for one night. Just one drink. Maybe two."

  I haven't been as good as she thinks I have. But one night couldn't hurt. One drink. When am I ever going to be able to do something like this again?

  "Um...maybe I should eat something first," I say.

  But Sheila's no quitter. She grabs my jaw and squeezes. I squeal with laughter, but as much as I wriggle she won't let go. So I give into a fight I know I'm never going to win and open my mouth.

  "Now," she says. "Down the hatch."

  I squeeze the green blob onto my tongue and swallow. "Happy?" I ask.

  "Ecstatic." She passes me a blue one this time and raises an eyebrow.

  "Sheila," I protest.

  "I'm not leaving you alone until you are so drunk you can't remember your own name. It's my duty as your favorite little sister. Understand?"

  "You said one drink!"

  She pouts and I roll my eyes, sucking back the second Jell-O shot. But when she reaches for another, I stop her. "I haven't had a drop of alcohol in almost a year. I need to eat something. Now."

  Ten minutes later, I'm sitting in a chair, leaned up against the furthest wall from the crowd of people that have begun to fill the space around me. On my lap, I balance a cheeseburger and fries. On the floor beside me is a bottle of beer—the only kind of beverage they bothered to provide.

  The house is a mix of wood, leather, sweat and smoke. The music is so loud it vibrates through my seat and I can't even hear myself breathe. Sheila is making her rounds, flitting from one end of the room to the other. Once in a while she'll disappear into the kitchen, Lucas in tow. There's only one wall that separates it from the living room, and it obstructs the view completely. As much as I try not to think about it, my stomach churns when I imagine what they're doing back there.

  I don't even notice him beside me until he drapes an arm around my shoulder.

  "How you doing?"

  I side glance him, too buzzed to bother shrugging him off. "Fine," I smile.

  Probably sensing how tense I am, he drops his arm and offers me a hand to shake. "You must be Shannon."

  I grip his hand lightly and nod, waiting for him to tell me his name. He doesn't. And his gaze doesn't connect with mine for long. It only takes a few seconds before it falls to my newly inflated chest. His lids droop over gray eyes as his gaze drags up and down my body.

  "Goddamn. It's like I'm seeing double." He laughs. "How could you not know?"

  "What?" I shift in my seat and hunch my shoulders, suddenly wishing I'd had the sense to throw on my jacket before making my way down those stairs.

  The bra I'm wearing is as thin as the tank top and as a chill takes over my body, my nipples harden almost on instinct. I know he thinks it's for him and all I want to do is bolt.

  "Nothing." A smile creeps onto his face and he leans back in the chair, his gaze stuck on me. "Enjoying the party?"

  At this point, I'd rather be anywhere else.

  "When Sheila told me she had a sister, I wasn't expecting this. I mean, she's fuckin' hot, but you—you're an entirely different experience."

  I take him in, realizing in a moment that he's not all that bad looking himself. Minus the maze of tattoos that stain almost every inch of skin that's showing, the barbell in the center of his nose, the lip ring, his stretched earlobe, and black hoop in his eyebrow, he's kind of beautiful. His eyes are wide and bright, his lashes long and lush. His full lips have curved into a lopsided smile that, as much as I try to quell it, sends flutters through my stomach. And through it all, I realize he's just a bit familiar.

  He's shifted a little bit closer now. So close, I can smell the alcohol on his breath. It's so strong it burns my eyes. I reach for my beer, and take a swig, washing down my fries.

  "I have a boyfriend," I blurt out. It's a stupid thing to say, but it's the first thing that comes to mind. I must be drunk. Why else would I be even the tiniest bit attracted to a man who's the complete opposite of the kind of guy I usually look at?

  "I'll bet you do. And I've got a thing for Sparkles." He shakes his head, slightly and clears his throat before laughing nervously.

  I'm not sure what to think of that statement or if I've even heard him correctly, so I ignore it and continue on the offense.

  "I also have a baby."

  He raises his eyebrows, then draws them down into a frown just as quickly. And I want to laugh. Nothing like a ice cold bucket of water to douse the flame.

  "He's at home with my mom," I explain. "His name's Ray. He's three months old. Do you want to see a picture?"

  His frown deepens, but he doesn't respond. He just continues to stare at me. He hasn't even bothered to sit back. Just as close as he was before, he studies me, as if trying to figure out if I'm telling the truth. And a part of me, doesn't even mind anymore. Maybe it's the two Jell-O shots on an empty stomach. And the half a bottle of beer. But I like the attention. I'm starting to appreciate how close he is. And the tiniest sliver of me wants to reach out and touch his inked skin
.

  "Seriously?"

  We both jump at the sound of someone close by. And when I look up, I nearly choke on the breath I'm drawing in.

  Lucas squats in front of us, his eyes on my tattooed admirer. "Get lost, Ross," he says.

  My gaze hops from the guy beside me back to Lucas, then back again.

  "My brother," he says. "Roscoe."

  I want to die. I want the ground to open up and swallow me.

  Roscoe leans back, but only slightly. And, as he does, everything about him that I found even remotely sexy melts away. Maybe I've been pulled out of my drunken stupor and am seeing things more clearly now. Or maybe it's because he's so close to his near perfect brother.

  "Well," he says, his voice just a rumble above the music. "It was nice to meet you, Shannon Carlson. Enjoy the rest of my party."

  He gets up from his seat and rests a hand on his brother's shoulder. Then just before he disappears back into the crowd, he whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is makes Lucas's gaze shoot back to me. His eyes go wide, just like his brothers did. And then something flickers there. His frown is only slight, but I can tell he's unhappy. He settles into the seat next to me and is quiet for a good five minutes as I sip my beer and nibble on my fries, gazing out into the smoky crowd.

  Then he shuffles closer and in a low voice asks, "What's this about a baby?"

  Luke

  Every organ inside my body is buzzing. I'm freaking the fuck out and I need to calm down. I need to just calm the fuck down and let her explain.

  "Shannon," I say again. "What's going on?"

  She brings the beer bottle from her mouth and god help me, but I get just a little hard when she licks a stray drop from her bottom lip.

  Shit. This isn't good. I should walk away right now. But I can't. Not until I hear her say it. Not until she tells me that baby isn't mine.

  I don't know why it's my first instinct. She had a boyfriend the last time I saw her. And, from what I remember, and they seemed really into each other. Why didn't Sheila tell me? Did she? Was I too fucked up to remember? But why would she? We don't talk about her life, her family. For the past few months, I've avoided that shit at all costs. I didn't need any more reminder of the mess I almost caused. But something inside me has always felt Shannon and I weren't completely finished. Maybe this is it.

  I hold my breath as I wait for her to answer.

  She finally looks up at me with those pretty blue eyes and everything inside my fucking body goes from buzzing to melting into goddamn mush.

  "Don't worry," she says. I'm reading her lips, the music so loud I can't hear a sound. "You're off the hook. I'm with Dave, remember?"

  I swallow hard, my parched throat squeezing together and practically choking me. It's not mine. Fuck. It's not relief I feel. It's a twisted sense of regret. Like I've just had my heart broken in two. Again.

  I push off the seat, but she grabs my hand before I can get up, pulling me back down and closer to her.

  "How are you?" she asks.

  This time, I'm so close I hear every single word. And the sound of her voice brings me back. I stare at her. The way that sexy little tank top hugs her body and the mini kilt slides up her taut thighs. I want to touch her, but I know I shouldn't. If I do, I'm not going to stop.

  I clear my throat. "I'm fine. How are you?"

  She smiles. It's lazy and her eyes are glazed over. She's ruined. Drunk like every other motherfucker in here. No wonder I walked up on her near ready to jump in my brother's lap.

  "I'm good, Lucas. So good. So much better now." She licks her lips and a wave of desire runs through me.

  Shit. Get up, Luke. Get up now.

  She takes another swig of beer and as she brings the bottle back to her lap, I take it from her. Putting it as far out of her reach as possible. She frowns, then giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. I notice right away that her ring finger is bare. No engagement ring. No wedding band. She has a baby for this dude and he doesn't even marry her?

  I take her hand in mine, before I have enough sense to talk myself out of it, and stroke my thumb over her ring finger.

  When I look back up at her, her gaze tells me everything I want to hear, but shouldn't listen to. In seconds, she's gotten up from her chair and is weaving her way through the crowd.

  I follow along, like the fool her presence has turned me into. When we reach the kitchen, it's completely empty. She glances over my shoulder, then back at me, the corner of her bottom lip clenched between her teeth.

  "I should go." The words coming out of my mouth are so small, so meaningless, she just laughs. And I can't help but chuckle right along with her.

  "You probably should." Her gaze is suddenly serious. "But, can I ask you something first?"

  I nod.

  "Actually, I want to ask you to do something."

  "What?" I barely give her a chance to finish her sentence, but I already know. It's written all over her face. I should turn around now. But everything I'm feeling, everything that's been bottled up for the past few months is bursting me at the fucking seams. I didn't even realize how much I still want her until right now. And I shouldn't. I can't. "What do you want me to do?"

  She steps closer. She's so drunk. I can smell it on her. I don't know how much she's had. Probably not as much as me, but I'm still present. I have a clue what's going on. It's up to me to stop this. Still, I can't just walk away. Not again.

  Her palm hits my chest and I lose my breath. She slides it up to my neck and I close my eyes. Whatever this girl wants, she's going to get. I can't stop myself with her. I can't be the man I know I'm supposed to be.

  The tips of her fingers brush my mouth and I clench my teeth.

  "Your lips," she says.

  "Shannon." I grip her fingers pulling them back, somewhere inside of me finding the strength to do the right thing. But it doesn't feel right. It feels like shit.

  "What?" She narrows her eyes. "I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

  I shake my head. "The opposite. But I'm with your sister now. I can't..."

  She blinks, then snatches her hand back. "Maybe I should go find your brother then."

  But as she attempts to leave, I block her path. "Like hell."

  Shannon scoffs. "Like you have a choice in the matter. Besides, you saw the way he was looking at me."

  I grab her wrist. "Don't be fucking stupid."

  Her gaze lingers on me, as hard as ever. "Too late for that."

  I'm still holding her arm. Not because I think she's going to leave. Whatever connection we have, the one that refused to go away after all these months, has her tethered here.

  "I'm sorry," I say.

  "For what? Sleeping with my little sister?"

  "I didn't know."

  "You were mine," she says.

  The admission floors me. I drop her wrist and bring my hands to my head fisting my hair. "Are you fucking kidding? Now you want to get territorial? You told me—."

  "But you didn't have to listen, did you? You could've been a man. You could have given me what I wanted. What I needed. After all that time we spent together. After getting to know each other the way we did."

  "You told me it was a fling. You pretty much pushed me into her arms. And now you're pissed at me?"

  She clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. At tear falls down her cheek and she swipes it away. "This is stupid," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have..."

  She rushes out of the kitchen toward the stairs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Shannon

  As I reach the top of the stairs, my head is spinning and my limbs are shaking. I shouldn't have come here. It's the only thing I can think as I fumble with the door to the first room I see. I slam it behind me and stumble through the darkness, crashing onto a bed.

  I need to sleep this off. I need to lock myself away from the rest of the world and get back to normal. In the back of my mind, I'm prompted to get up and loc
k the door. But my drunken body won't let me move. It would've been smart to stop at the first Jell-O shot instead of letting my sister strong-arm me. It would have been better not to drink at all.

  I can't believe what I almost just did. With Sheila in the other room! What is wrong with me? I suck in a deep breath and hug myself. My breasts hurt. They're begging me to jump in the shower and relieve them of the wasted milk, but I can't even bring myself to move.

  And I know exactly what's wrong with me.

  Lucas.

  Everything I've done in the past year is because of that man. And I just can't seem to help myself.

  I wanted to touch him so bad. I wanted to feel his lips on mine again. His tongue, brushing against my own, inside me. Him inside me. I so badly want what I shouldn't, what I can't have. And it isn't fair. He's mine. Just like I told him. I had him first and now...

  I blink hard, then squeeze my eyes shut.

  I let him go and now he's hers. And I can't be the one who stands in between it all. This secret I'm keeping is the kind that eats souls. The type of lie I'm telling can sever bonds and create enough spark to blow up a lot of lives. I shouldn't have lied. But it's too late now. What can I do? I'm itching to tell someone. But what could I even say?

  The door opens and I tense. The light from the hallway casts a beam across the room and I sit up in the bed, squinting at the figure in front of me.

  "Hello?"

  "Of all the places you could have run, you end up in my room. Can't be a coincidence." Lucas flips on a lamp and my eyes go wide as I take in the surroundings.

  "I'm sorry," I say and scramble off the bed. "I wasn't paying attention. What way is my sister's room again?"

  When I walk past him, he stops me mid-step, his hands closing around my shoulders.

  "Wait." He's close to me again. Too close. His warm breath ripples across my ear and cheek. Then he turns me around to face him. "Just wait a second. Can you do that?"

  I don't respond. God, I can't. Not only has my throat tightened to the point of near-strangulation, but the way he's looking at me, there's no doubt in my mind what he wants. His hands are still on me and I'm melting. Like butter on a stack of fresh pancakes. I'm done.