Page 11 of Wish I Were Here
“Did you say something?” Sal tugs on his earlobe. “Speak up. My hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
My gaze jerks to his. Did I just say all of that out loud?
No. It may have been a rough morning, but I haven’t quite hit the point where I spill my issues to a stranger in the back of a Lincoln Town Car.
“Never mind,” I mumble, crumpling the candy wrapperin my hand. Like I told Luca, it’s been a long morning. I force a laugh to show I was joking. “I’m just a little stressed about all the work I have to do. I’ll feel better as soon as I get home and get started on it.” But as I pull out my carefully ordered list to add the academic paper I’ll be writing all by myself between now and October, my desire to hurry home fades.
Nobody, a strange little voice in my head echoes.Wouldn’t it be nice?
Sal takes another shiny wrapper from his pocket and pulls on it to untwist the ends. He holds it out to me, and I pluck the hard candy off the crinkly paper. “Thanks,” I mumble, stuffing it in my mouth.
Luca appears in the doorway of the pharmacy with an overflowing shopping bag under one arm. He holds the door open for Mrs. Goodwin, giving her a wave of his hand and a bow as she walks past—unencumbered by packages—like she’s the Queen Mother.
I watch Luca jog gracefully over to us and grab the car door for her, his long limbs gliding like a dancer’s. I can see why he’d make an excellent Carolina shag partner for Mrs. Goodwin. And I can also understand why the people in the building want to hang around in the lobby chatting with him, telling a joke, playing a game of cards. He’s undeniably attractive—all lean-muscled, dark-eyed, six-foot-something of him. And then there’s that charm that he directs with equal abandon at people of every size, age, and gender but that somehow makes you feel like he’s directing it only at you.
Maybe riding around in the back seat while Luca andMrs. Goodwin run errands isn’t so terrible after all. I slide the butterscotch from one cheek to the other, savoring its sweetness. The back seat of this Town Car reallyissurprisingly comfortable. And Sal seems like pretty good company. Maybe, just for today, Icanbe nobody.
Tomorrow, I’ll face it all again.
“Where to now?” I ask, once Mrs. Goodwin is settled next to Sal and Luca is in the front seat starting up the engine.
Luca catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Back to the DeGreco.”
“Oh.” My voice drops at the end. “You don’t have more errands?”
“We do, but we’ll take you home first.”
“I hate to make you go out of the way.”
“It’s no big deal. I know you’re eager to get back. We’ll just swing around that way and drop you. We’re not in a hurry.”
I picture the FedEx driver giving up on obtaining a signature and leaving the packages on the sidewalk in front of the building for someone to steal as they walk by. Of course Luca isn’t in a hurry. He never is. But I’m surprised he’s concerned about my schedule.
“Great.” It comes out more sharply than I intend.
I find Luca’s gaze in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. I look away.
When we pull up in front of the DeGreco, I say goodbye to Mrs. Goodwin and Sal while Luca hops out of the car to get my door. Before he can get there, I push it open myself and swing my feet out. Too late, I realize I’ve mistimed my exit, because he’s stepped forward to offer me his hand atthe exact same moment that my legs propel me upward. My shoulder bumps his chest, and I teeter on my unfamiliar heels. He reaches out to steady me, and through the thin material of my blouse, I can feel the warmth of his hand. My gaze drops to his tattooed forearm, and I have the strangest urge to reach over, push his sleeve higher, and find the end of the vine I can see growing toward his bicep.
Cheeks heating, I lift my chin and meet his eyes with as much composure as I can muster, which to be honest, is not much composure at all. “I appreciate you getting me to work and back safely,” I say politely. “And as for the rest, well, hopefully the elevator will be fixed by tomorrow.”
“Anytime at all.” Luca gives me that charming grin, ignoring my dig about the elevator, of course.
I take a step back, but at the last moment, he tightens his grip around my arm, tugging me closer. His grin slowly fades.
“What—” I stutter. “What are you doing?” My voice wavers, and I clear my throat.
Luca leans in, his face moving closer to mine. He smells like something fresh and citrusy, with a tiny hint of the leather seats of the Town Car. For a wild second, I think he’s going to kiss me. And for some completely inexplicable reason, I find myself leaning in, too. My breath catches in my throat. But then, just as his lips are inches from mine, Luca shifts his face to the left, over my shoulder. I feel a tiny brush of his facial stubble against my cheek and the rise of his chest as he takes a breath through his nose like he’s trying to smell my perfume.
“What are youdoing?” I lean sideways to get a look at his face.
“You—” Luca drops back on his heels. I’ve never seen him look flustered before. He shakes his head as if he’s trying to focus. “Sorry. Never mind.” And then before I can say another word, he lets go of my arm and backs away.
I watch him head back to the driver’s seat. What was that about? And more importantly,what was I thinking, leaning into him like that?
Of course, it’s not like he was actually trying to kiss me.
But if he was, would I have let him?
