Divided Interests (Southern Bride 3)

“Am I interrupting something?”

Lucas closed his eyes while I peeked around at Milo.

“If I had known it was going to be like the food fights in high school, I’d have brought more people to this painting party.”

Lucas shook his head and backed away from me.

When I looked at Lucas, he was smiling, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

Milo took one look around the trashed living room and laughed. “You two always did know how to have fun.” He slapped his hands together. “I brought you over some more paint, glad I did.”

“Thanks, Milo.” I said. “Want to stay and help clean up?”

He laughed. “No, thanks. I have a date tonight.”

Lucas quickly turned to Milo. “A date? With who?”

Milo grinned from ear to ear. “She just moved to town and is working at the courthouse. Her name is Rachel Greene.”

“As in Friends?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, can you believe it? I teased her a bit about it and finally worked up the nerve to ask her out.”

Lucas smiled at Milo, and it was sincere. “That’s awesome, dude. I’m glad to see you getting out there and dating.”

Milo lifted a brow. “Right. Well, I’m going to slowly back out of here before you two drag me into this little war.” He looked at Lucas, then me. “But from what I just saw, I’d say y’all were fixin’ to call a truce.”

My cheeks heated, and Lucas cleared his throat.

“Enjoy your date, Milo. I hope y’all have fun,” I said.

He took the hint and waved goodbye. “Talk later. Have fun…painting.”

Once Milo was out the door, Lucas turned back to me. “We need to start locking the fucking front door. It creeps me out how often he walks in.”

I giggled, then looked around the room. “Oh my gosh, we made an absolute mess in here.”

Lucas pulled his T-shirt off and wiped his face. My knees felt weak when I looked at his perfectly toned body.

Look away, Paige. Look. Away. No, don’t lick your lips and wonder what it would be like to trace each ab muscle with your tongue.

“Paige?” Lucas’s voice pulled me from my dirty thoughts.

“Mmm?” I asked, tearing my gaze from his abs to his stunningly beautiful green eyes.

“Do you want me to carry you up the steps to your room?”

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“No, it’s okay.”

I watched as he reached down and started to take off his cowboy boots, then his jeans.

“Um, what are you doing?”

He looked at me with a blank expression. “I don’t want to track paint everywhere.”

“So you’re stripping in front of me?”

Lucas laughed. “I’m not stripping,” he said, pushing his jeans down and exposing his boxer briefs. And one impressive bulge.

God help me.

“I’ll grab some bags for us to put our clothes in.”

“Our clothes?”

He looked back at me. “You’re not walking up the steps dripping in paint. We’ll never get it off the wood floors.”

“You want me to get undressed?” I asked, a tremble very evident in my voice.

With a roll of his eyes, he walked backwards. “Paige, I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Yeah, years ago. When I had an eighteen-year-old body. Now I have a twenty-nine-year-old body with a few extra curves.”

He frowned. “If you’re trying to say your body isn’t as hot as it was when we were eighteen, you need someone to smack you. You’re perfect.”

Aw, there was the guilt speaking. I knew it had to be just under that layer of paint somewhere.

“Lucas, you don’t have to feed me a line because of what I said last night.”

Something flashed across his face. It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t regret. His eyes gleamed with something only for me. It was the same as when he used to tell me he loved me. Honest, and so pure it would leave me breathless sometimes. “I’m not feeding you anything. Why can’t you believe I still think you’re attractive, Paige?”

An uneasy feeling hit me in the middle of my stomach. I hated that I felt so unsure of myself with this man. That I had compared myself to his stupid stick-thin girlfriend for the last two years.

“It’s just… I mean… I don’t think I’m ugly or anything,” I said with a chuckle. “I’m just not…”

My voice trailed off.

Lucas stared at me, not saying a word. It was as if his mind was also racing. Both of us trying to say the right thing so we didn’t start another argument, or maybe he feared he’d hurt my feelings. I hated that I made him feel like he had to tiptoe around me. I hated that I felt this way.

“I’m not a supermodel and I’m perfectly fine with that. I’m being stupid and acting like a silly girl.” I pulled the shirt over my head and then quickly slipped off my other pink and now paint-splattered Ked. I unbuttoned my jeans and slipped them down. I was silently thanking God I had on matching panties and bra. And thankful I hadn’t grabbed a thong.