I needed to get away from it all. And, well, I’d visited Lou and seen his property, and it was just the kind of place where I could picture myself figuring out how to be me again.”
“And now, Lucky living so close is a real blessing,” Lou says. “He’s basically the son I never had. Always making sure I have enough food and medicine to last me for a few months since it’s so hard to get out here—and damn near impossible for an old man like me to get back to town.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Luca tells me. “If it weren’t for him, I’d probably still be in Hollywood, addicted to drugs or alcohol, and just completely fucking lost and unhappy.”
“But you’re happy now? Out here?”
“Happy is relative, princess.” Luca shrugs. “I’m definitely not unhappy, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I take the last bite of my steak and think about his words as I get up with my empty plate and head into the kitchen.
Happy is relative. Relative to what?
Everyone should be able to feel happiness in their lives.
Not every day, not all the time, but it should be there.
Does Luca not have that?
The mere thought of it not being a part of his life makes my chest ache with sadness.
But I swallow down the emotion and busy myself by cleaning off the counter and doing the dishes.
“You don’t need to do that, Billie,” Lou states, but I wave him off.
“And you didn’t need to make us a delicious meal, but you did.”
He chuckles. “You’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t ya?”
“Yep,” Luca answers for me. “And I’m going to join her in stubbornly cleaning up your kitchen.”
Before I know it, he’s beside me, drying the dishes after I finish washing them.
Plates. Cutlery. Pots and pans. One by one, in comfortable silence, we get them washed and dried and put away in the cabinet.
By the time we’re finished, it’s a little after nine in the evening, and all three of us are ready to call it a night.
Bailey chooses a cozy spot on the living room rug.
Lou goes into his bedroom on the first floor.
And Luca and I head upstairs.
To the only guest bedroom in the house.
With only one bed.
Luca
Forget hit men, crab fishing in the Bering Sea, and adrenaline sports; the biggest danger for a man is a beautiful woman in his bed. Eight years alone and the feel of Billie fucking Harris are a deadly combination.
By the time she does whatever it is women do in the bathroom, I’m already lying in the bed, sitting up and reading the screenplay I promised to.
I wanted to get my five pages out of the way and be done with it all. But as much as I should have stopped at the fifth page, I’m twenty-four pages in, and I’m riveted.
I look up from the white stack of papers and find Billie standing near the foot of the bed. Her hair hangs past her shoulders in soft waves, her cheeks are rosy, and her hot, svelte body is clad in a tank top and sleep shorts.
She looks fucking beautiful.
But I’m finding Billie always looks beautiful.
“You okay?”
She nods but doesn’t make a move to do anything but stand there. After this much time with her, I’m starting to learn. When Billie’s got something on her mind, she either talks a mile a minute or doesn’t say anything at all. This is obviously a case of the latter.
“Do you need something?”
“Um…” She pauses, and her teeth dig into the skin of her full bottom lip. “Should I make a pallet on the floor?”
“Make a what on the floor?”
“A pallet?”
“Should I know what that is?”
“You know, a place to sleep. Pillows, blankets, that sort of thing,” she says and searches the incredulous expression on my face. “You’ve never heard that word before?”
“No.” I shake my head on a chuckle and set down the screenplay on the nightstand by the bed. “Must be a West Virginia thing.”
She smirks. “Or maybe it’s not an LA thing.”
“That too,” I agree with a mirroring smirk. “And don’t be ridiculous with sleeping on the floor. We’ve slept in the same damn sleeping bag two nights in a row, princess. Pretty sure we can handle a bed together.”
“True story,” she says on a giggle and doesn’t hesitate to climb under the covers beside me. “Ah, this is the best thing ever. After sleeping on the hard ground, nothing beats a bed.”
“Glad it suffices.” I reach out to turn