Page 7 of The Mechanics of Lust

Footsteps ran after me. “Wait, Zach. I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to do.”

I hesitated, then held out my hand, and Luke handed the jacket over, saying, “I’m sorry about your dad—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He sighed and gave a nod. “Fair enough. But the reason I followed you out was to tell you I have a spare bed if you want. You don’t need to sleep in your damn car.”

I blinked, then stared at him, surprised at the shy uncertainty I saw on his face. He almost looked... nervous? But no, that wasn’t possible.

Luke shrugged. “The furniture came with the place, so it’s ready to go. Has to be a better option than your back seat.”

It was all I could do not to gape. “You’re offering me a bed? For the night?”

A wry grin stole over his face. “I’m pretty sure that’s what I just said.”

“Don’t be a smart-arse.” I studied his face but saw nothing to suggest he was fucking with me. “And exactly how many beds are in this house of yours?”

He snorted. “Oh, right. Well, two, as it happens. One for me and one for—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, then opened them again, but the irritating man was still there. I considered my ute and frowned. It had a pig of a rear seat.

Luke waited quietly, his expression one of obvious amusement. He raised both hands. “I promise your virtue is safe with me. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer my bedmates conscious and consenting.”

When I still said nothing, he sighed and took a step back. “Okay, do what you want. I’m at 47 Falcon Drive if you change your mind in the next half hour. It’s a five-minute walk and I’ll leave the porch light on. I was only trying to help.” He walked away.

Before I could stop myself, I called out, “Why are you still here?”

He stopped walking and turned around. “What do you mean?”

I waved toward the bar. “You weren’t with anybody, and you’re clearly sober and everyone else has pretty much left, so why didn’t you?”

He looked to the ground, then back up. “I was doing the rounds and talking with people. It’s something you do when you’re the new kid in town,” he said pointedly, and okay, fair point. “Then I happened to hear you turn down Tom’s offer to drive you home about an hour ago and I... well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You’ve, um... clearly had a bit to drink.”

It took a minute for his words to sink in. He’d wanted to make sure that I was okay? I shook my head. “I don’t need a minder, and that’s creepy as shit, just so you know.”

He shrugged. “I’ll give you that, but it is what it is. You’re a friend of Gil and Holden, and I wanted to see you safe. I’m not going to apologise. Have a good sleep, Zach. And lock your car doors.”

Lock my doors?I frowned at his retreating back, cast another glance at my odorous ute, and then ignored every one of those warning bells in my head. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

He spun on his heels, wearing one of those wide smirks that did funny things to my stomach. “Don’t make it sound like you’re doingmea favour. It’s no skin off my nose.”

He was right and I grumbled an apology. “Sorry. And thanks. I appreciate it.”

He laughed. “Jesus, how did that feel coming out of your mouth?”

I fought a smile. “Like shit, if you must know. And just so we’re crystal clear, itisseparate beds, right?”

He nodded sagely and his hand lifted to his chest. “You have my word. I mean, one can’t be too careful, right? Lord knows where you’ve been.”

My brain was still a bit slow so it took me a minute to register the insult. In that time, Luke had walked over and taken the coat from my hands. He hung it over my shoulders and then headed out of the car park. “It’s this way.”

Incensed, I ran to catch up. “Hey, arsehole. What do you mean, whereI’vebeen?I’mnot the one attempting to set the land-speed record on the number of dicks conquered in the province of Wellington, sleeper suburbs included.”

Luke shot me a confused look over his shoulder as I tried to keep up with his Olympic pace. To be fair, I wasn’t exactly pushing too hard, considering his arse looked spectacular in those jeans with every streetlight we crossed. “According to who?”

“According to your husband—”

“Ex-husband,” he reminded me. “Who knows precisely zip about who I do and don’t take to bed or any other aspect of my current sex life. Got it?”

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