Imperfect (Triple Canopy #3) - Riley Edwards Page 0,41

Matt and Logan in passing the times I’d been to Triple Canopy but I didn’t know either of them.

“So just you,” I lamely noted. “How many bedrooms?”

“Why? You wanna christen them?”

“No.” I tried to sound irritated but I was pretty sure my lie came out breathy.

“Three,” Luke answered through a wide smile. “But only two have beds, the third’s junked up with gear.”

Luke didn’t strike me as a man who kept his gear in disarray and judging by how clean the rest of his house was I seriously doubted his idea of “junked” and mine were the same.

“You must think I’m a total slob.”

“What?”

“Dude, your house is spic and span. It looks like it’s been staged to sell. There’s not even a pile of mail on the bar top. Nothing. Just clean.”

“Dude?” He chuckled.

“Yes, dude,” I returned. “I wasn’t thinking much about you seeing the state of my house that first night because you’re a dude. But now I’m thinking I should be embarrassed or maybe a little ashamed you saw my collection of dust bunnies.”

“I don’t clean this place, Cathy does. It looks like this because today’s cleaning day. I leave for work, she shows, and like magic when I come home it’s spic and span.”

Huh. Maybe I needed to invest in a Cathy. My house magically clean when I got home sounded like heaven.

“If you want I’ll give you her number,” Luke said as if he was reading my mind.

“How’d you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“You got this dreamy look about you. So either you were thinking about Cathy working her magic at your place or you were back to thinking about christening the bedrooms. For my peace of mind, I’m going with Cathy. Though I could swing the other way if you’re feeling like taking a tour.”

I was seriously thinking about taking a tour. A tour of his bedroom ending with us christening his room sounded better than coming home to a clean house.

Luke’s shoulders started rocking with silent laughter and a beat later the silence went away and his jagged, rough laugh hit my ears.

God, I loved the way he laughed. Straight from the belly like he was sucking all the good stuff life had to offer right out of the air.

“Since you’re not a woman you can’t know this so I’ll explain,” I started. “It’s a toss-up—a spotless house you didn’t have to lift a finger to clean or an orgasm.”

“You’re wrong. It’s not a toss-up. You gotta man who can give it to you good, the orgasms always win out.”

“You’re probably right,” I muttered.

“I know I’m right.”

My eyes squinted again and my hands went to my hips in the universal silent language of women all around the world who wanted to throw attitude but do it nonverbally.

“I’m not wrong,” Luke continued.

“I know you’re not.”

“Then why do you look like you’re getting ready to bust my balls for being right?”

“Because it sucks you’re right. But it sucks more I don’t know how right you are since I’ve never had a man who could give it good enough I wouldn’t think it was a toss-up between a clean house and an orgasm.”

“Fuck. You didn’t tell me that,” Luke accused.

He was matching my stare, narrowed eyes and all.

“What are you talking about?”

“The night you were drunk,” he reminded me and I groaned.

For days I had successfully pushed that night out of my mind. I didn’t want to give any headspace to the things I’d said. I was positive I’d told him too much. All of it would be embarrassing.

“I’m never drinking with you again.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, Luke, I’m on the wagon. I talk too much when I drink and apparently my tongue gets loose when I’m blotto. So no more drinking—ever.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do with your tongue, baby, but you’ll be sober when that happens. You don’t talk too much when you’re drunk, you just forget to electrify your walls. You’re totally open. But that’s not why I wanna see you drunk again. Normally you’re funny, a few drinks in and you’re gut-busting hilarious. Never laughed so hard in my entire life as I did listening to you that night.”

Great, so now I was merely funny sober but gut-busting when I was making a fool out of myself.

Whatever.

Moving on.

“We should leave. Gordy’s already waiting for us at LuLu’s and the rest won’t be far behind. But before we leave I need to warn you; the guys take miniature golf to a

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