Stealing Home(41)

My eyebrows came together. “But that isn’t me. That wouldn’t be me if that happened.”

Luke pointed at a tall building up ahead, so I moved into the right lane. “But until I knew that, I had to be careful. You may think you know a person, but you need to know you know a person.”

When I looked at him in the mirror, this time he glanced away. Whatever was playing out in his eyes, he didn’t want me to see.

“Why?” I asked.

His jaw set as I pulled up in front of his apartment building.

“Another time,” he said at last, shifting in the backseat. “I’d invite you up but . . .”

“You have three younger sisters at your place?” Putting the tank in park, I twisted around in my seat. His expression was clearing from the topic we’d just touched on, but it was obvious there was a story there. Maybe one day he’d feel comfortable enough to tell me. Maybe he never would. After the way Ben treated me, I knew what it felt like to have scars you wanted to keep hidden.

“Actually . . . I figured you’d say no,” he said, gesturing toward the front doors to his building.

“Oh.”

“Am I wrong?” Bracing his elbows against the headrests of the front seats, he leaned forward.

“No, you’re right,” I said, trying to ignore that his face wasn’t even a foot away from mine. “I’m sure your sisters want you all to themselves right now.”

He gave me a minute to change my mind—clearly trying to change it for me with the way he was looking at me—then shrugged. “Okay. Thanks for the ride.”

As he crawled across the backseat to open the door, something hit me. “I just realized something,” I said, blinking. “I have no idea how I’m going to get back to my car to get home.”

Archer’s smile told me this had crossed his mind a while ago. “Just realized that, eh? I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out. Must have been distracted by something.” Waggling his brows, he added, “Or someone.”

“The man stretched out on the backseat should not be flattering himself right now.”

He chuckled like my state of transportation impairment was amusement at its best. “Take my car home,” he said, motioning at the steering wheel. “We can go get your car together tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to drive this tank another length of curb.”

His mouth fell open. “Are you insulting my wheels?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” Even in park, the thing was rumbling like we were four-wheeling up some logging road. “Besides, why are you driving something that probably rolled off the manufacturing line when we were in middle school?”

“Because we have a lot of history.” He patted the passenger seat affectionately. “I drove this baby to college my freshman year. It’s gotten me through a lot of good times. You don’t just abandon it because people expect you to drive a Range Rover with twenty-inch rims.” He made a face like he’d rather be caught driving a hot pink Barbie car. “Besides, in this, I’m incognito. As you’ve just proven, no one expects me to be driving a 2003 Tahoe.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised a guy who made bank drove a car with a trade-in value of probably five grand, but it still made me shake my head. “Point made.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow morning then? Around eight?” His hand dropped on the back door handle.

“To drop off your car?”

His shoulders lifted. “And to go shopping. Remember? Me and the girls. At the mall all day.”

I exhaled. “I don’t know, Luke.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Plus, if you expect me to follow-through on my promise to keep my leg elevated all day, that means I’ll be in a wheelchair, which means shopping will be spatially challenging.”

I made a face at him. “Spatially challenging?”

“Have you ever been in those teen girl stores?” He waited like he was expecting an answer. I didn’t think my abundance of team polos and khakis required an answer to that. “I can barely fit as a bi-ped. Definitely won’t be able to as a four-wheeler with an appendage hanging out.”

“Speaking of appendages . . .”

His smile twisted as his eyes dropped to his crotch. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“How is your leg?” I said around a sigh. Luke had a one-track mind that was always heading in the same direction—between my legs.

“Better than my dick right now,” he muttered, looking so dejected I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

As he started shoving the door open, sliding down the seat to leave, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. One I hoped I wouldn’t regret.