Page 11 of Hand Picked
“Hey, Van?” I tapped my glass again.
Van looked at me closely. “You got a ride home, right?”
I rolled my eyes. Having people up in my business was the best-worst part of small-town life. “Yep. Knox, when the town meeting lets out.”
He glanced over my shoulder. “Think you can give your neighbor a lift home, then? He’s been tossing back the Rusty Spikes, too. Been talking to himself in the corner for the last thirty minutes at least.”
I half laughed. Some fools just couldn’t hold their liquor.
“Of course. Which neighbor?”
“The new teacher. Luke Williams.” Van pointed toward a shadowed booth on the far side of the room.
“Wait.” The whole world became a record scratch, and I turned my stool so quickly my head spun. “Wait, wait, wait.That’sLuke Williams?”
My nemesis had been here in this bar all along?
“Yeah, he said he—Webb? Where ya goin’?” Van called as I pushed off the stool.
I didn’t answer him. I’d gotten halfway across the floor before I noticed that I was walking, and once I’d thought the wordwalking, the whole process became trickier, especially when I tried to add talking into the mix.
When I saw that distinctive cow-lick-y hair and sweater vest, I lost control entirely.
“Hey! I have things to say to you—” I began.
Then I tripped over my own feet and stumbled, catching the edge of the booth and barely stopping myself from going ass-up in the center of the table like a Christmas roast.
Luke didn’t seem nearly as startled as he should’ve been to have six-foot-three inches and two hundred pounds of irate Sunday practically land in his lap. In fact, when his big blue eyes finally managed to focus on my face, hesmiled, like he’d been waiting for me to show up.
I frowned.
Really, who had eyes that color blue? It was an absurd color.
Insufferable.
Inexplicable.
“Oh, Webb,” the man said happily, clasping a hand to his chest. “Thank goodness it’s you!”
I sucked in a breath, and my nose caught the faint tang of woodsmoke clinging to his sweater vest and the sweet-rough scent of whiskey on his breath. I couldn’t help inhaling deeply… and my cock stirred against my zipper, despite all the Rusty Spikes coursing through my bloodstream.
Huh. Turned out my feelings about woodsmoke and whiskey were at least as strong as my feelings about coconut shampoo.
Well, fuck.
ChapterThree
LUKE
Sitting alone in my booth, contemplating my night’s work, I pondered exactly when my plan for the evening had gotten out of hand.
“I think it was withyou,” I told the first of the line of empty glasses on the table in front of me, repressing a tiny belch. “You were seductively delicious but ultimately not good for me, just like Mitchell back in college. ‘Get your nipples pierced, Luke. It’ll be hot, Luke.’Bah.”
I took another sip from my full glass and addressed the second and third empty glasses, lining them up behind the first like my students at lunch period. “You two promised to help me learn hockey, but did you?Noooo,” I said severely. “You just made it all blurry.”
“And you two.” I prodded the fourth and fifth glasses into their places. “You were adorable. But now I’m not just sitting alone at a bar, I’m sitting alone at a bar whiletalking to the glasswarelike one of you might magically start singing at me in Angela Lansbury’s voice, and that’s just ridiculous.” I paused, then whispered, “But, like, if youweregonna speak, now would be the time.”
“Hey!” a deep voice replied. “I have things to say to you.”
