One Night Stand-In Page 15

  I point to it. “That’s sweet,” I say, my heart warming as the taller of the two rubs a snout against the other’s.

  Davina scoffs. “Ha! They’re showing off for visitors. Normally they’re screaming at each other. Huffing and puffing and arguing about something.” She stretches out an arm and pats one on the head then the other.

  Lucas shoots me a knowing grin. “That sounds like Rowan and Luna.”

  Davina chuckles, stopping in front of the next stall, home to a couple of black-and-white llamas. “Here’s Frick and Frack.” The sign on this stall declares The Alpacalypse is coming! You’ve been warned.

  “They’re brothers, but mostly there’s no sibling rivalry,” Davina explains. “Want to feed them?”

  Lucas straightens his spine, his jaw tightening. “Feed them what?”

  A laugh bursts from my chest. “Lucas, are you afraid of llamas too?”

  “No!”

  Davina laughs deeply. “They don’t bite.” She strokes her chin, adopting a serious expression. “Well, I hope they don’t.” She winks at me.

  “So, they do bite?” he asks, clearly concerned.

  I nudge him. “They’re up there with clowns on your list, right? It’s okay. I can protect you from these guys as well.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m not afraid of alpacas.”

  “Good, but those are llamas,” I say.

  “No, they’re alpacas,” he says, pointing to the Alpacalypse sign.

  “Nope.” I shake my head as I gesture to the long-faced animals. “Definitely llamas.”

  “Then why does it say Alpacalypse?”

  “Because the llamas are warning us about it,” Davina cuts in, slapping her thigh, laughing. When she finishes, she bends to grab some hay. “Animal puns get me every time. And don’t feel bad—Rowan couldn’t tell the difference either. He and Luna went round and round all the time on this one. Here you go.” She offers some to Lucas. He holds out his hand, a little reluctantly, giving the hay the side-eye.

  “You never had pets growing up, did you?” I ask.

  “No. My parents hated them.”

  “Ouch,” I say, frowning. “Hate’s a strong word.”

  Davina bends to grab more hay when a loud buzz emanates from her jeans pocket. She grabs her phone then holds up a finger. “Got to take this. Just keep feeding Frick and Frack. They like hay.”

  She wanders toward the end of the barn.

  I tip my forehead to the bale of hay. “Want help?”

  He scoffs. “I can handle an alpaca.”

  “A llama,” I say with a laugh.

  He winks. “I know that, Dumont. Just making sure you were paying attention.”

  I grab some hay and lean against the metal bars, offering some to one of the guys. He munches from my hand. “No pets growing up, huh? And I’m only just learning this now?”

  He shakes his head. “Not a one. My parents said they were dirty, stinky, and full of disease.”

  “Ah, so it was just a slight dislike.”

  “Just a tiny bit. Also, now that I’ve said that out loud, I think my parents were kind of dicks,” he says, fiddling with the hay in his palm.

  With my free hand, I squeeze his shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry, Lucas. I know you weren’t crazy about their decisions. I’m getting the impression you are even less wild about them than you were before.”

  He opens and closes his fist around the hay. “I don’t want to be like them.”

  It’s a simple statement, but it resonates.

  It’s how I’ve lived my life too. That’s my mantra. I’ve chosen a certain path over the last several years. One with the least llama drama.

  Because I don’t want to be like my parents either.

  Since we’ve been opening up, I draw in a deep breath and do that once more. “I feel the same about mine. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been in any relationship that became serious.” I’m a little nervous, but glad too, to admit this particular truth. This unexpected quest we’re on seems to easily unlock doors to emotions and secrets. Like we’re on a road trip, and the open highway is freeing our minds and our hearts.

  We’re saying things we wouldn’t otherwise say. Admitting things we’d have kept tightly under wraps.

  He tilts his head inquisitively. His tone is soft, caring. “You haven’t? Not at all?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I do date. But I’m not out there swinging it every night. I’m not a player.”

  “You better not be,” he grumbles.

  I bump my shoulder to his. “Hey, same for you!”

  “Don’t worry, Dumont. Despite this face, I’m not either,” he says with a deliberately charming grin.

  “You’re not?”

  “Does this surprise you?”

  “Well, you said it yourself. You have a very pretty face. So, you could be.”

  “And yet I don’t carry the player card,” he says.

  “Any particular reason?”

  He shakes his head. “Just busy . . . you know. Focused. And I’ve dated, had girlfriends, but . . .”

  “But no one who hooked you long enough to want more?” I ask, filling in the blanks, because they feel like my blanks.

  “I haven’t experienced that click. That connection, like Rowan has with Luna, you know?”

  “They’re kind of crazy for each other,” I say, shuddering like the thought scares me. And it does in many ways. I’ve seen where that kind of intensity can lead.

  Lucas has too, and he mirrors me, shuddering as well. Two kindred spirits, understanding the dangers of love. “They are, and I don’t know what I’d do in that type of . . . situation,” he says, choosing his words carefully, it seems. “But then, it hasn’t happened to me.”

  “Same here. I’ve dated, had some long-term boyfriends. But no one who rocked my world,” I say, but there’s more to it. There’s a part of me that’s terrified of a love so powerful that it could consume me. I’ve seen the kind of damage that can do. I don’t want to watch other parts of my life, and myself, burn to embers. “Love feels like such an all-or-nothing proposition,” I say with a sad sigh.

  His eyes meet mine again. There’s an intensity in his gaze, but an understanding too. “It does. Why can’t there be some middle ground?”

  I force out a laugh. “Halfway love?”

  “That sounds like a book title. We’ll design the cover after we finish Things Overheard in Coffee Shops.”

  “As long as it’s not a cracked heart design, I’m in.”

  “Please. We’re kick-ass, not derivative,” he says, then he flinches, startled, and turns to find Frick rubbing his snout against his shoulder.

  “I believe someone wants something from you,” I tease.

  Lucas smiles at the animal, and whatever wariness he felt earlier has vanished. “This guy doesn’t want halfway love. He wants it all,” he whispers, then thrusts out his hand and offers the food. The llama scoops it up with his tongue. Lucas’s eyes light up with childlike glee. “Ha! That’s awesome.”

  The delight in his expression is infectious. It spreads through my soul. I bounce on my feet, smiling. “Lucas Xavier, you are definitely not like your parents at all.”

  He tilts his head, meeting my gaze. “Why do you say that?”

  I point at the animal eating happily from his hand. “Because you’re falling in love with a llama, and there’s nothing halfway about it.”

  He narrows his eyes, but the corner of his lips turns up as he meets Frick’s gaze. “Hey there, buddy.”

  And my heart—forget warming up; it’s simply glowing as he pets Frick. “You so are,” I add.

  “So what? He’s cute,” Lucas grumbles. “Want more, buddy?” He bends to the bale, grabs some hay, and returns to feeding.

  “You went from wary and suspicious of llamas to in love in sixty seconds,” I remark as I snag some hay for Frack.

  Lucas nods to Frack. “Same for you, woman. Didn’t take Frack long to romance you.”


  “Maybe I’m easy when it comes to four-legged creatures,” I say as Frack hums against my palm, gobbling up the hay.

  He smiles. “Did you have pets growing up?”

  “Cats. We had all the cats in Miami. My parents rescued stray cats any chance they could. We had a menagerie for some time. Funny thing is, the pets were about the only thing they took care of when they lost interest in Luna and me.”

  He shoots me a sympathetic look. “For real?”

  I shrug, but it doesn’t hurt like it did when I was younger. “They loved their cats more than their kids. I guess they’re dicks too.”

  Lucas lifts his free hand and strokes Frick’s snout. “Let’s make a vow not to be like that. What do you think, Lo?”

  “I’m down with that plan,” I say, mirroring him as I pet Frack.

  We’re quiet for a few moments, feeding the pair of siblings as they purr their appreciation for the simple things in life.

  “Seems there’s more to Luna and Rowan than I thought,” Lucas says, his voice a little faraway. “I always pictured them as this hotheaded young couple, but there was more going on. And they have quite the interesting life.”

  I nod, picturing Luna and Rowan spending the occasional weekend here. “It’s funny because I think I know my sister, but I can also see there’s a lot I don’t know about her. She’s more selfless than I thought.”

  He smiles a crooked grin. “Kind of cool to learn, isn’t it? It makes me feel better about picking up the slack for him now and then,” Lucas says as he hands more hay to the animal. “He really tries to give back. Did you know he visits the children’s hospital and plays games with the kids?”

  I smile, loving that image, as I offer hay to Frack. “I had no idea. That’s so sweet.”

  “He’s a good one. Total pain in the ass, but total softie too.”

  “What would they say about us if the roles were reversed?” I ask.

  Lucas’s dark eyes roam up and down my frame. “You are definitely a total pain in the ass, but a softie too.”

  “Hey! I’m not a pain in the ass. Or a softie.”

  “But maybe I am,” he offers, a little quiet, a little vulnerable.

  “Are you? Both?”

  He doesn’t say anything at first, then he answers me with vulnerability in his eyes. “I know I’m a pain in the ass, so no argument there. But the soft side—you tell me. You said I was falling in love with a llama . . .”

  I study his handsome features, from the square jaw, to the carved cheekbones, to the dark eyes. His hair too. All that lush hair I love running my fingers through. This man who hates clowns, who can’t stand rudeness, who embraces directness, who picks up after his brother, and who thinks and feels and listens.

  Is he a softie? Is he a pain in the ass? Does he love halfway?

  I sidestep, finding a better way to address the questions. “I think Rowan would say he’s damn lucky you’re his brother.” I’m proud of Lucas, of what he’s done and of the life he’s leading.

  He feeds Frick the rest of the snack, then says, “And I bet Luna would say Cassiopeia brought her a terrific sister. She didn’t even have to wish upon a star for you.”

  My heart slams against my chest, pounding mercilessly, desperate to get closer to this man. I’m tempted to reach for him, touch him, wrap an arm around him, hold him, and kiss him.

  And there’s nothing halfway about that feeling.

  But something rubs against me. A soft, fuzzy head jutting up against my cheek. And it’s humming.

  It’s Frack.

  I laugh, nuzzling him now.

  Lucas glances at the creature, then at me. “Maybe he’s falling in love with you,” Lucas says, soft and tender.

  I pet Frack’s head as I gaze at Lucas, my stomach flipping, my heart hammering. I no longer know who’s falling for who, or if we’re sliding together into a wildly dangerous new territory.

  Davina returns, a wide grin on her face. “I see they’ve won you over. I may have to enlist you on the farm.”

  Lucas smiles. “I think Frick and Frack already have. And I can see why Luna and Rowan come here. I can see why they’d want to support this place too. Question though,” he asks, shifting to a more serious tone. “Did you think it odd that their landlord came here with their clothes, wanting to leave them here as a way to get back at them?”

  She laughs, waving a hand dismissively. “Harrison? No. He made a donation when he asked me to hold on to the clothes. His donation went toward that hay right there.” She points at the bales near our feet. “Was it odd? Sure. But life is odd, and I’m not in a position to turn down a donation, so holding on to a few items seemed a small price to pay. Plus, he took a tour of the farm too.”

  “Is that so?” Lucas’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “I like giving tours and showing off my lovelies. He got a kick out of them.” Her eyes swing to the acres of land beyond the barn. “Said something funny about writing a scene where a couple of alpacas chase a guy down the street. I asked if he’d consider reframing it. I said alpacas don’t chase people, so maybe the man would try to get along with them instead. He said, ‘Good point. Glad I checked with you.’”

  “I’m glad he checked with you too. And I’m glad we came by,” Lucas says, then reaches into his wallet and hands Davina several twenties. “Thanks for taking care of these animals.”

  She takes the money and clasps her heart. “You’re one of my lovelies now too.”

  * * *

  After we board the train, Lucas flops into a seat with a loud harrumph. “Four out of five,” he says, tossing the bag of clothes at our feet.

  “Only one left,” I say, wishing it were two, three, or four.

  “Only one,” he echoes, and his eyes lock with mine. In them I see a hint of longing.

  A question mark.

  What if we had a reason to keep doing this?

  I don’t want us to fall out of each other’s lives again. I want to stay in his orbit, and vice versa.

  “Hey, Lola,” he says thoughtfully as I sit next to him.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t think this is just payback for Harrison.”

  “I don’t think it is either.”

  “Seems to be some sort of project.”

  “That’s what Amy thought from the start—that he was testing out a concept. Maybe for a show or something. And it sounds like it, from what Davina said.” I second Lucas’s idea, but have no clue what might motivate the man behind the breakup letter.

  “I think he’s enjoying it.” The conductor calls out All aboard, and Lucas turns to me. “And I am too. I’m not just doing it to help my brother.”

  My heart rises to my throat. “Why are you doing it, then?”

  He takes my hand again and threads his fingers with mine, sending shivers all through my body. When our eyes meet, a flash of vulnerability crosses his. “If you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have said you were the last partner I’d want for this sort of hunt. But now I think you’re the only person I’d want to do this with.”

  With those words—the only person—a flash of understanding fills me.

  In this moment, away from the city, far away from the hustle of my daily life, and so very far away from my family, I can see myself more clearly.

  I’ve put on twenty-twenty glasses for the first time in years, and I can make out something I should have seen years ago.

  How I’ve avoided love.

  Hidden from it.

  Run the other way.

  Because years ago, I fell for this man. He’s the only person I’ve fallen for, even partway.

  For the first time in my life, I’d felt something deep in my heart. Something terrifying to me—a hope, an ache for another person.

  That was what hurt so much when he didn’t show up that night. Hurt so much that I shut the door on my heart.

  I shut it to apologies. Shut it to him. Shut it to the dangerous power of falling in love.

  At the time, I could
barely comprehend what all those foreign feelings were, or how hurt could get so mixed up with fear that you cut yourself off from something good just to avoid repeating something bad.

  I didn’t just lose my friendship with Lucas.

  I lost my first and—as it turned out—my only shot so far at falling in love.

  Trouble is, I don’t know how the hell to deal with that now. I can’t even look at him because I’m afraid I’ve become a see-through woman.

  Instead, I rest my head on his shoulder and speak another truth, if a partial one. “It’s the same for me.”

  21

  Lucas

  The tango club sign says Back in an hour.

  I’ve never been happier to have to wait.

  More time with Lola. “Are you hungry?”

  “Famished.” She leans her nose to her shirt. “But I also smell like a farm. I could seriously go for a shower.”

  The corner of my mouth curves up as my buddy and I formulate a quick plan. “I’m only ten blocks from here.”

  One eyebrow lifts. “Is that so?”

  I shrug ever so casually. “I’m just saying. You could get on a subway and go all the way across town to Chelsea, dealing with Saturday evening crowds and the perils of underground travel.” I shudder, selling it to the jury. “Or you could zip right on over to my place and be spick-and-span in no time.”

  She hums as if she’s considering the options. “That’s quite a picture you paint of subway horrors.”

  “It’s terrible this time of day. Clowns roaming free and whatnot. It’s really best avoided. Plus, it takes forever, and then you’d smell like a llama longer. Lots to consider, Dumont.”

  She shoots me a dubious look. “I thought you liked llamas.”

  “Love them. But llama smell?” I shake my head. “It needs to be dealt with stat.”

  “I believe that would apply to you too.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Wrinkling her nose, she leans in close, sniffing my shirt. “What’s this fragrance?” she says. “Do I detect notes of hay? With a hint of fur?”