She smiled. “I better go, now.” She took a step away from the booth. “I’ll be back to the apartment to pick up all my things in the evening. Okay?”
“Good luck.” I nodded my head. “And… thank you, Rosie. I’m returning this, I promise. I wasn’t joking when I said I’m in your debt.”
A new emotion crossed her face. “See you later, Lucas.”
I watched her as she approached the exit of the diner, and just before she walked out, I called, “Oh, and please, don’t tell your dad about me eating his sausage rolls! I’d like to make a good first impression.”
She didn’t turn around, but just as the glass door closed behind her, I heard her laugh.
It was a sweet sound. Soft and guarded, just like her.
“Ah shit,” I said under my breath, looking down at my empty mug and the borrowed bills. “Lina me va a cortar las pelotas.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Rosie
Olly didn’t show up at the station.
A part of me wasn’t even surprised. I guess I had expected him to blow me off. But that hadn’t softened the blow when he dodged my call—again—and shot me a text that read: Can’t make it, big sis. Sorry.
Luckily, once I arrived in Philly, I discovered that Dad was fine, just a little sore from his fall. Not that he’d admit it. Oh no. At home, he’d refused to lie down, take painkillers, or let me prepare tea or food for him. Repeatedly. But that was Joe Graham for you. “I’m fine, Bean,” he’d said about a thousand times. Following that up with “I relied enough on you when your mother left all these years ago, Bean. You shouldn’t worry, Bean. Why did you take a day off work to come fuss over your old man, Bean? You are a team leader now, Bean. People depend on you. Have you heard from Olly, by the way? He’s okay, isn’t he, Bean?”
So, by the time I was taking the train back to Manhattan, my lie tally was the same, if not higher after covering for my little brother—again—and I was so emotionally drained from dealing with a stubborn Dad that I no longer had the energy to guilt-trip Olly.
And then there was Lucas.
Something took flight in my stomach, making me feel giddy and nervous and all kinds of flustered at the thought of him.
Here I was, a mostly reasonable and independent woman, feeling like a sixteen-year-old fussing over the idea of seeing her crush.
Only Lucas Martín wasn’t my crush. Nope. He was a man I didn’t really know, whose online presence on social media I had… appreciated a perfectly normal amount.
He was also a man I had spilled a good portion of my guts to only this morning. And it had felt good. Not just fine, but good.
And now here we were. Him, on the other side of Lina’s door, probably wondering if I was going to show up at all, given the time, and who knows, maybe considering throwing my ginormous, messy pile of belongings out the window if I didn’t. No, because he would never do that, a voice countered. And me, standing in the hallway, staring at that door for a wildly inappropriate amount of time wishing I had X-ray vision so I could… So I could what?
Shaking myself, I let myself in.
The moment I turned the knob, though, I second-guessed not knocking. Because what in the holy hell was I doing barging in like this? What if Lucas—
Whoa.
I stopped cold in my tracks with the door fully open, the most amazing, out-of-this-world-delicious scent hitting me like a wave.
“Rosie.” My name—off Lucas’s lips, with that roll of the R—made it through the haze. “You’re finally back.”
Blinking a couple of times, I zeroed in on him. He was standing in the kitchen of the studio, in front of the stove, with his back to me. He wore a fresh T-shirt, and his brown hair fell in a disheveled mess of wet locks. He must have showered recently, I assumed, as I could see tiny droplets of water on the back of his neck. A strong neck. And the visible skin was tanned and smooth-looking, and… and I was staring. Ogling, really.
I cleared my throat. “Hi,” I croaked. “I’m back, yes. And you’re here, like we agreed. Which is great and nothing I should be surprised about.” Cursing myself for not being able to turn off my awkwardness in front of this man who had done nothing to deserve it, I closed the door behind me and strode in. “It smells incredible in here, Lucas.”
Finally. Something normal to leave my lips.
“I’m glad you think so.” He chuckled. “I hope it tastes that way, too.”
Taking in everything already laid out on the surface of the narrow kitchen island that also served as breakfast bar, dinner table, and desk, it was hard to believe otherwise.