Page 3 of Sweet Boys Love Christmas
My eyes fly open at the rough timbre of the voice.
Tommy turns, a sneer already on his face. It’s laughable, the stark contrast between him and Luke.
Tommy in his preppy gray cardigan and brand-new shoes that were created to look distressed versus Luke in his light blue waffle-knit Henley, oil-stained jeans, and leather boots that look like they’ve been used and abused for years. Not to mention the striking difference in height. Tommy swears he’s six-foot, butfive-ten, maybe five-eleven, is more accurate. Luke, on the other hand, is well over six-foot. I’d guess around six-five.
“Our conversation is none of your business.” Tommy puts on a tough front, but based on the way his hands are balled at his sides and how big his eyes have gone, he’s rattled by the hockey player’s presence. Not only is Luke taller, but he’s also a hell of a lot more muscular.
“It is my business when a woman is clearly trying to get away from you.”
I bite my lip, worry settling into my gut. Luke may play an aggressive sport, but the guy is more of a lover than a fighter.
“What’s your problem, man?” Tommy sneers, looking Luke up and down. His lip curls when he notices the tattoos on his forearms. “I’m talking to my girlfriend.”
Luke focuses on me, blinking his vivid blue eyes in surprise.
“Ex,” I clarify. “Very much ex-girlfriend.”
Tommy has the audacity to roll his eyes and let out a huff like a disgruntled toddler. “Babe, be for real?—”
“I am.” My voice is loud and strong, despite how weak I feel on the inside. All I wanted was to have a little treat and allow myself a moment of pity. Yet I can’t even do that because Tommy still thinks he’s entitled to my time. “I told you when we broke up that it was for good this time. Move on. I’m begging you.”
Tommy, his face turning an unflattering shade of red, knocks the tray out of my hands and straight into Luke’s chest before storming out of the dining hall.
The tray clatters to the ground, leaving a glob of Cool Whip on the hockey player’s shirt.
“Luke,” I breathe, on the verge of tears as a gummy worm falls from his shirt to join the mess on the floor.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He grasps my shoulders to steady me.
It’s only then that I realize I’m swaying on my feet. My heart pangs at the realization that he’s comforting me when he’s the one covered in my food.
“I’m sorry about that.” Sniffling, I frown at his shirt.
He looks down. “Fuck, Bertie, don’t worry about my shirt. Washers exist for a reason. Come here. Sit down.”
With my lips pressed together, I let him guide me to his table.
“Wait here,” he instructs. Then he’s shuffling back to the tray and plate on the floor.
I want to burst into tears when he kneels and helps one of the dining hall workers clean up the mess, despite her protests. Tommy would never do such a thing. He’d deem such a task beneath him. Luke is so different from the guys I grew up around. I guess that’s what draws me to him. He’sreal.
Once the mess is gone, he doesn’t return right away. A wave of disappointment hits me as he walks away from me, but when he gets in line, I really do have to fight back tears.
Only a minute later, he approaches the table and sets a plate in front of me. The replacement brownie is covered in Cool Whip and gummy worms, just like my original treat. Beside the plate is a fresh spoon and napkins.
Luke Covey is too good for this world, and he’s definitely too damn good for me.
“Don’t cry.” He picks his backpack up off the floor and sets it on a chair, then rifles through the contents. “I won’t be able to stand it if you cry.”
“Why are you so nice to me?” I pick up the spoon and scoop a bit of the brownie and Cool Whip in one bite.
What kind of guy bothers to come to the aid of a girl who’s blown him off more than once?
He arches a brow, pulling a clean shirt from his bag. “Whywouldn’tI be nice to you?”
Lips parted, I blink up at him. “Because I turned you down?”
Rather than respond, he shrugs out of his stained shirt, completely bare-chested in the dining hall, showing off olive-toned skin peppered with ink. I greedily take it in, noting the several pieces that didn’t exist when we hooked up years ago.
