Lukas (Ashes & Embers 3)

“I take it Paul is your husband?”

“Yes. Now, he’s saying we may have to sell the house, too, because he moved into a new expensive condo with his girlfriend. It’s really stressing me out.”

“Shit,” I say, feeling the muscles in her leg tightening as she gets more upset. “That sucks.” Her husband sounds like a first-class asshole to me.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry I’m venting to you. It’s just been one of those weeks, ya know? And I guess I’m just an idiot because I didn’t think this stuff would ever be happening to me.” Her voice cracks a little, and I stop working to look up at her. Her eyes are watery and her cheeks are flushed, the sight tugging at my heart.

“Ivy, you’re not an idiot.” I gently squeeze her leg, aching to comfort her but not knowing how without crossing a line. “I’m pretty sure, when people get married, they don’t expect that they’ll be shafted by that person years later, and have their entire fucking life uprooted.”

“No.” She sniffles. “I never even imagined it.”

I wheel my stool across my small work area, grab the box of tissues on my table, and hand them to her.

“You must think I’m a mess,” she says, taking a tissue and wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not a mess.” Actually, I think she’s beautiful, and it’s way more than just her looks. I can tell this woman has a heart of gold, and it shines right out of her like a spotlight. “You can vent on me all ya want. I’ve been through a lot of crap myself, so I understand. Trust me. I’m a good listener.”

I pick my gun up and continue my design on her, trying to be as gentle with her as I can be. Knowing that I’m inflicting even the slightest amount of pain on her bothers me.

“Are you married?” she asks suddenly.

“Nope.”

“Well, you’re young. You have tons of time.”

I wipe her leg with a cloth. “True. I think I’m one of the few guys that actually wants to get married. I just can’t find the right girl.”

“That’s hard to believe. You seem like a really nice guy, and you’re very talented. I’m surprised women aren’t lining up for you.”

I laugh. “Not the right ones, that’s for sure. I tend to attract the crazies or the wrong ones in general. I just broke up with a girl a few weeks ago that I still feel bad about. She was a great girl, really pretty, and we had a lot of things in common. I think she actually cared about me, too. She was the most normal girl I’ve dated in a long time.”

“That’s a shame. What happened?”

“She slept with my brother a few times before I hooked up with her.”

Ivy scrunches up her face. “Oh.”

“Yeah, exactly. I just couldn’t get past it. Do you think that’s wrong of me? Do you think I should be able to just forget about that?” I ask, wondering if there’s something wrong with me, or if maybe I’m too picky.

She thinks about my question before answering. “No, I completely understand. I think, for a lot of people, it’s awkward to be intimate with a person someone else you are close to has also been intimate with. Some things aren’t meant to be shared.”

“Exactly! I couldn’t see myself having dinner with her over at my brother’s house, sitting at his table, knowing he screwed her. It would make me crazy thinking about it, and I don’t think I could not think about. I can’t un-see that shit in my head, ya know?”

She laughs. “I totally agree. I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It just sounded funny, the way you said it,” she says. “I feel sick every time I think about the fact that Paul was having an affair for a whole year before I found out. Just thinking that he was having sex with another woman, and then coming home to me, pretending he had been at work and acting all normal, is disgusting.”

“Fuck yeah it is. Was he sleeping with both of you? Not at the same time, obviously, I mean, while he was married to you?”

“Apparently so. He’d stopped having sex with me for months. Almost a year.” She turns her head away from me, her face reddening with embarrassment. “I just thought he was tired from working. I didn’t think he was getting it better someplace else.”

“Shit. That sucks. I absolutely cannot stand cheaters. I feel really bad for you.”

She sighs and faces me again. “Please don’t feel sorry for me. I feel lame enough already.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I just feel bad for you because I don’t think you deserve it. He’s a shithead.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

I add a few more flowers to her design before I get up the courage to ask her my next question. “Did you eat dinner today?”

“No . . . I didn’t have time to.”

“When we’re done here, we could go to this little cafe down the street. They’re open ’til midnight. I haven’t eaten yet either.”

Her leg muscles stiffen again beneath my hands, and I silently beg her to say yes.

“I don’t know . . . I should probably just go home,” she answers nervously, chewing her bottom lip.

“To the big empty house? Forget that and come with me. They have killer soups and sandwiches, and their lattes are awesome. Do you really want me to eat alone like a loser?”

She smiles shyly at me. “No. Of course not.”

“Then grab a bite with me. Save me from my impending loser-dom.”

She squirms in the chair. “Lukas, I’d love to save you from your loser-dom, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

I flash her my best chick-melting smile. What the hell am I doing? Am I really trying to hook up with a chick a decade older than me? Yes. I am. “It’s just a sandwich. No strings, I promise.”

She sighs and laughs, and I love how pretty her lips look when she smiles. Like a little doll. “Okay. I am hungry, actually.”

“Cool. Let’s try to put in a little more design time, and then we’ll go, okay?”

She nods. “That’s perfect.”

I have a strict no-dating-the-customers-rule that I imposed on myself when my brother and I opened the shop four years ago. And even though this technically isn’t a real date, I’m growing more and more attracted to Ivy, and I really have no idea why. I work on all kinds of attractive women every day but remain detached from them, even though a lot of them literally throw themselves at me and offer me everything from blowjobs to threesomes. There’s just this thing about her. Maybe it’s her shyness. Or the ache I feel in her. Or maybe it’s the crazy tingling feeling I get every time I touch her or look into her eyes. Either way, I just know I want to spend more time with her without jabbing needles in her.

“How long have you worked here?” she asks me.

“My brother and I opened this place four years ago after we inherited some money from our grandfather.”

Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize you owned it.”

I smile as I add delicate shading to the tender spot just above her knee. “Yup. I own the building, too, and I live upstairs.”

“Wow, I had no idea. I’m very jealous of your commute,” she teases. “What was here before you moved in? I love the uniqueness of the building. I know it was a church or chapel at one time, right?”

“It was quite a while ago. Before we moved in, an older couple lived here that sold antiques. They were cool enough to let us keep some of their antique furniture and artwork, too. The furniture in the waiting area is all antiques, and a bunch of the furniture in my apartment is, too. I love vintage decor, especially anything Victorian Gothic.” I pause working on her design. “I’m fascinated with the history that’s attached to certain objects. I feel like antiques have a story to tell, and that they carry with them a little piece of each person who owned it. Like an imprint, I guess. Sometimes, I like to run my hand over the old wood and just try to feel the past seep into me.”

She listens with a fascinated expression as I talk. “Lukas . . . that’s so beautiful. I’m impressed. Most men have zero interes

t in things like that, especially someone your age.”

I look up from her leg to meet her eyes. “I’ve never acted my age, Ivy.”

“Can I ask how old you are?”

“Twenty four.”

Her eyes widen. “No fair. I’d love to be twenty four again.”

I reposition her, and she turns so she is lying on her side so I can get to the back of her leg. I can’t help but notice her shorts creeping up and exposing more of the back of her thigh leading up to her ass. I fight the urge to run my hand up the back of her leg and caress her. I want to hear her moan under my touch.

I blink and try to refocus on working. “Well, you can’t go back, but you can move forward. Try not to think of what’s changing in your life as all negative,” I encourage her, trying to calm my dick down at the same time. “Try to look at it as an opportunity for new things.” Yes. New things like my lips all over your precious skin.

“You sound like my friend Lindsay. I guess the two of you must be right.”

I wheel away from her and place my gun down on my worktable. “Okay, pretty lady, time for a new thing right now. You’re coming to the cafe with me.”

IVY

IT’S JUST COFFEE. IT’S NOT A date. Keep him company while he eats, nibble on something, and then go home. No big deal.

My reflection in the bathroom mirror is not what I want to see. I look tired. My eyes look a bit puffy and dull. A grey hair is visible. Shit! I reach up, carefully grab it, and yank it out.