I sense him before I see him.
When I look up from where I’m arranging a stack of cleaned glasses, I catch Luc rounding the bar.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
But he’s not talking. His steel gaze combs over me from head to toe.
I’m wearing ripped up black jeans, my perfectly worn boots, and a gold tank top.
I am all out of the temporary coloring conditioner I use, so I have my hair in two braids, hoping to hide my natural highlights that have already started to show through.
I don’t know what to do, so I just stand there.
“Luc?”
He exhales a breath and I see his chest move. It’s the only thing that lets me know he’s really there and not some figment of my imagination.
A week has passed since he brought me home with him. I haven’t really talked to him since, though I’ve seen glimpses of him walking to his office.
Luc is a busy man. I know this, so I don’t intrude.
Even though I want to.
I mean when a guy like that tells you that you’re his you expect something.