Luke wasn't sure what surprised him more--that or the thong.
The sun climbing over the horizon reminded him of what she'd said about watching the sunrise from her bedroom. He wasn't seeing it from that vantage point, but there was a window close by and it was beautiful all the same. Although not beautiful enough to compete with what was peeking at him from beneath that sweatshirt....
She rolled over, and the sweatshirt rode even higher so he got up to cover her. He was just pulling the blanket over her hips when she opened her eyes and stared up at him with such a sexy, sleepy expression he was glad the blanket concealed his lower half.
"I think you owe me money," she mumbled.
"Money?" he repeated.
"Didn't I win last night?"
She was the worst poker player he'd ever met, but he'd let her win a few hands because it meant so much to her.
"Oh, yeah. Fifty bucks."
"Bummer," she said, covering a yawn.
"Why is that a bummer?"
She shoved the hair out of her face. "I thought it was more. I had a dream I was driving your car."
Luke laughed. He was nice, but not that nice. "Sorry to disappoint you."
"Didn't we gamble on who had to make breakfast?"
"We did."
Tucking her hands under her chin, she closed her eyes. "Shouldn't you get started?"
"You lost that one."
She opened her eyes just a slit. "You're sure?"
"I wasn't drunk. I remember it very clearly."
"I wasn't drunk, either."
"Then why are you stil in your underwear?"
Her eyes went wide and she sat up. "When did I take off my pants?"
"You never had them on." He didn't know why he'd brought it up.
Possibly because he was fixated on what she looked like in that thong. And possibly because he wanted to let her know he'd seen her so he wouldn't feel like such a lecher for gawking. "But I'm not complaining."
Avoiding his gaze, she stood and wrapped the blanket around her, and he knew he'd seen all he was going to. "I'l get dressed so I can make breakfast." She started toward the back part of the cabin, but a knock at the door brought her up short.
"Are you expecting company?" he asked.
"No."
When she didn't move to answer it, he stepped toward the door himself. "Want me to get it?"
"Is it as early as I think?"
He checked his cell phone, which was lying on the coffee table. "Six."
"You can't get it." Dragging the blanket behind her, she tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. "Shit," she whispered. "It's my stepfather."
Luke immediately straightened his clothes. "Maybe you should go put on some pants."
"Maybe you should hide." She glanced around as if searching for a place, but he shook his head.
"I'm not hiding. We haven't done anything wrong. I say we play it straight. Pants are a better idea."
"What good wil pants do? We obviously spent the night together."
"But we didn't sleep together. And even if he thinks we did, we're both adults. How angry is he going to get?"
"He's not going to get angry. I just...I don't want to hear his snide comments. And he'l shoot off his mouth to my father. It's weird, but he and my father have struck up this unlikely friendship."
The knock came again, this time more impatient. "Ava? Hey, quit stalling and open up. I know Geoffrey's in there. I can see his damn car."
"Geoffrey?" Luke echoed. "Who's Geoffrey?"
"Just play along," she said, and drew the bolt.
It was over. Kalyna had taken Norma's wedding ring and her money--
she never could find the earrings--and left her dead on the kitchen floor.
And now it was daylight and she was flying along the highway with her windows down and her radio up.
She expected to feel some remorse. Or at least fear. This wouldn't be easy to hide, not like that hitchhiker. But it'd been hours since she'd driven away and all she felt was relief. It wasn't as if she'd planned to murder Norma. She'd been forced into it by Ava and Luke and Norma herself. Al she'd done was finally stand up to the person who'd hurt her the most.
And now she was free. She'd never go back to Arizona. She wouldn't go back to the base, either. She was done with the military. She'd go into hiding until she could give Luke and Ava what they both deserved, and then she'd go back to Ukraine and disappear. That was her real home, anyway, wasn't it? She should never have been taken away in the first place. This life she'd lived was not her life. She deserved better.
She pulled off the road when she came to a truck stop. In case the police were already looking for her, she was taking the long way to California, and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. At some point, she needed to ditch her car and get some rest. But she hadn't come across the right opportunity. And she doubted she'd find it here.
The mini-mart was empty except for a pimply-faced boy at the cash register. Never one to underestimate a potential benefactor, she offered him a bright smile. "Hi."
He blinked several times. "Uh, hi," he said, and stumbled backward into his stool.
Kalyna sidled up to the counter. "You old enough to drive, handsome?"
Righting his stool, he sat down, but the blinking accelerated. "Yes, ma'am. I-I'm nearly eighteen."
"Almost grown up."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You got a car?"
He seemed to struggle with this answer. When she reminded him that it was a yes or no question, his gaze fell to his tennis shoes. "No, ma'am."
"Then how'd you get to work today?"
His face turned red. "My, um, my dad dropped me off. But I'm saving up for this super sick Trans Am. My uncle owns it. We've been working on it all summer."
"Oh. Cool." If he didn't have a car, he couldn't be much help to her.
She couldn't keep driving her own. It would make her too easy to catch.
No longer interested, she let her smile fade. She hung around for a while, hoping to meet someone else, but it was early and no one came in.
She'd just resigned herself to buying an energy drink--to help her stay awake so she could forge ahead on her own--when the bell over the door signaled a new customer.
"Hey, Jerry," the boy said. "What're you doing back so soon?"
A gruff voice answered. "Just passin' through on another run, kid."
Kalyna stood on her tiptoes to see over the racks. The salesclerk was talking to a tall, weather-beaten cowboy, probably in his forties, who'd thrown a pack of cigarettes onto the counter.