Moonstone: Gems of Wolfe Island One

Caged and taken care of.

I want to be free.

I’m still not. I’m living in housing—really nice housing—provided by the Wolfes. I have no choice. But I’ll find work as soon as I can.

Remember your strength, Katelyn. You’re safe here. You don’t need Zee to hold your hand.

“Katelyn…”

I inhale. “Please. Please, Luke. Don’t fight me on this.”

He nods then, though his eyes look…shadowed and sad. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Well”—I clear my throat—“you know where I live.”

That wasn’t the best thing to say. I basically just invited him to come back here, which is a really bad idea. I hardly know him. He shouldn’t even be here.

Sure, I know what his lips feel like on mine. I like how his lips feel on mine.

But I don’t know him.

I’m far from ready to go on a date or anything. I’m not supposed to be dating. Not that I’m bound not to, but my therapist suggested waiting a while longer, and frankly, I agree with her.

“I do. Could I have your number?”

Number. Yeah. He should call me. Not show up here. Much better. “Sure. Okay.” I rattle off the digits.

He inputs them into his phone. “I’m off tomorrow. Would you like to do something?”

“I’ll be…looking for a job.”

“Dinner, then?”

“I…”

“Katelyn, you gave me your number. I told you I want to see you again. If that’s not what you want, tell me now, and I’ll delete the number. No pressure.”

Yes. Yes. I should tell him to do that. Delete the number. He’s not my type. He has dark hair and tattoos. I’m used to…

God, I’m used to billionaires in tailored suits with no tattoos.

Just because a man looks clean cut doesn’t mean he’s a good person. I know that better than anyone.

Anyone.

I’ve seen men clad in designer clothing and Italian leather shoes change into fatigues and prey on women as if they were animals.

I swallow against the sour in my throat.

This. This is why it’s too soon for me to even think about seeing a man.

Even this man, who doesn’t look anything like the men who abused me, violated me.

Who also doesn’t look like any of the surfer boys I knew before.

“Message received,” Luke says, pulling his phone back out.

I touch his arm. Even through his long-sleeved white shirt, I feel muscles…and a massive spark.

He lifts his eyebrows.

“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t delete my number.”

A smile nudges at his lips. “You sure?”

Sure? I’m not sure of anything in my life. For a long time, I wasn’t sure the sun would rise the next day. I learned to live one day at a time. One more day of survival.

I inhale again. Deeply.

Then, “I’m sure.”

“Dinner tomorrow, then?” he asks, a tinge of hopefulness in his deep voice.

“Okay, but text me where, and I’ll meet you.”

“I don’t mind picking you up, Katelyn.”

I know, but I mind. “I’ll be out and about searching for work. It’ll be easier that way.”

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t buy my excuse, but he doesn’t push.

“Got it,” he says. “I’ll text you. Or I’ll call you.”

“You don’t have to call.”

“I may want to hear your voice.”

Another spark of warmth flows through me, landing in that place once more. That place I wasn’t sure would ever feel anything again. If it ever did.

“Your cheeks are red, Katelyn.” Luke feathers his fingers over one.

Sparks again.

He leans in.

I back away.

He backs away.

Kiss me, please. Except don’t. Except do.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

He leans in again.

I back away.

“Goodnight,” he says.

“Goodnight.”

I slide my card through the slot and the door opens. I whisk inside and then stare through the glass in the door as Luke turns and walks back toward the restaurant.

I still feel his phantom lips on mine.

And I wish I hadn’t backed away.

10

Luke

A lot of things don’t jibe with Katelyn’s story. The escort thing, for instance. I lived in LA. I know about those escort services. Sure, they say it’s a no-sex transaction, but celebrities and businesspeople in LA have money. Lots of it. And it usually only takes a little to get the escort to bend the rules a little. Or a lot, depending on the woman.

I know.

I’ve been there. And I’ve paid.

Back in my other life, when I used to do things I’ll never do again.

Escorts are outgoing, or they at least pretend to be. They’re not going to get work if they don’t turn on the charm.

While I find Katelyn charming, she’s hardly outgoing. Some would pay just to have her beauty on their arm, but most want someone who’ll be more than arm candy for the evening.

No way was Katelyn an escort.

Unless…

Unless something happened to her to make her crawl inside her shell.

There’s no shortage of pigs in LA, either. I should know. I was one once. Until I turned my back on that life and became something even worse.

Which I choose not to think about at this moment.