I should have brought my clothes in with me.
Hell and damnation.
I pulled my hair back away from my face with both hands and stared into my light brown eyes the mirror (both my sisters had sultry, dark brown eyes, which sucked and wasn’t fair, I couldn’t dye my eyes and colored contacts I thought looked fake).
Since I couldn’t at that moment do anything about the fact that I was barely dressed, I focused on what to do with my hair.
Last time I saw Luke, my hair had been shoulder length. I’d only gone for trims since then allowing my hair to grow long, down my back to my bra strap with thick, chunky layers cut in. It had always had an unruly wave, and length and weight had done nothing to tame it, in fact it went all the more wild. I needed a ponytail holder. It was now a mess of waves and tangles and currently in an untamable state without a shampoo and a shitload of product to force it under my control.
Oh well, what the hell. I had to go with it. No way was I taking a shower in Luke’s bathroom for this would mean being na**d and there was no way in hell I was going to be na**d at Luke’s place, not even in the shower.
I dropped my hands, walked out of the bathroom and stopped dead.
A man was walking out of the elevator carrying my purse. He was blond, trim, fit and ultra cute. His eyes cut to me and took me in, top to toe, standing there frozen and wearing nothing but Luke’s Triumph tee.
Then he grinned.
Crap.
His eyes moved to Luke. So did mine.
Luke was standing by the semi-circle kitchen counter, wearing only shorts (yes, black) that were made of that breathable material with the tiny little dents in it like basketball players wore. They hung loose and super low on his hips, running long (but not as long as the basketball ones), partially down his thighs. They showed not only the definition of his hip bones in sexy relief but most of a pair of knockout muscular thighs and calves. I would be remiss not to mention a full blown, sunny loft, contacts in view of his well-defined chest with not-too-much, not-too-little, but just the perfect amount of chest hair, jutting collarbone and stubbled jaw.
There was also a long, brutal looking scar tracing across his six pack.
Ho-ly crap.
My knees wobbled at the sight.
“Shit, Luke, I had two days in the pool. Christ, you tied Lee’s record,” the blond guy said.
Luke did a half-grin.
“What?” I asked.
The blond guy looked at me, still grinning. “Nothin’,” he said. “I’m Matt.”
I pulled out of my mini-hot guy trance and walked toward him. “I’m Ava.”
“I know,” he was still grinning, his blue eyes dancing. I figured I wasn’t in on the joke but let it slide considering I had to focus on getting dressed and getting out of there without having Luke’s “talk”.
“I brought your bag.” He handed it to me and I took it.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling like a dork but happy to have my purse.
“Your Rover’s in the garage.”
I looked at him and smiled, more than happy to have my car. “Thanks again.”
“Your keys,” he handed them to me and I took them. “Your purse is beeping.”
I dipped my chin, feeling kind of weird because he was really cute and kept grinning at me. “Thanks again, again,” I said to him.
His grin faded a bit but didn’t go away and he was now watching me closely. “You okay after last night?”
Wow, what a sweet guy, Good Ava said in my ear.
Flirt! Bad Ava yelled.