Page 101 of Meet Cute Reboot

I lean back and holler over my shoulder, “Go to the light, Betsy! You’re dead. There’s nothing for you here!”

Luke’s eyes go wide. He covers my mouth with his hand. “Don’t make her mad,” he whispers. “I want her to stay friendly.”

He closes the gap between us and encircles my waist with his arms. The burner in my stomach returns to “High.” I reach around and ball up his shirt in my hands. He responds by pressing me tighter, compressing what little space there was between us. We meld into one as his mouth devours mine.

“Do you want to go to the couch?” he whispers.

I bite my bottom lip. I can’t help the giggle that escapes my throat.

Luke grabs my hand and I trail behind him. He falls onto the couch and pulls me onto his lap. His lips draw me like a magnet. I kiss him slowly while he supports my lower back with his hand, the other hand sitting respectfully on my thigh.

As we part to catch our breath, he nuzzles my neck. “Are you okay with this?” His voice is low and husky.

“Do I seem okay?”

He peeks at my face. “Yes.”

I smile.

We slide along the leather cushion until I’m on my back. Luke hovers over me, caressing my neck with one hand while the other holds his weight. “I’ve missed this,” he says before kissing me deeply. I pull on his neck. My other hand roves his chest, wants to reach under his shirt, but I stop myself. I’ll just enjoy his lips, the scent of his aftershave, the—

“Well.”

Luke jerks his head toward the voice. He catapults off the cushions and stumbles backward between the glass coffee table and the couch.

“Mother. No. Just. No!”

Cecelia is standing in the center of the living room, a plush terry cloth robe hiding her thin frame, one hand clutching the cloth to her neck, the other resting on her chest.

“Am I... Interrupting something?”

Luke clambers to his feet. “Yes, Mother. Yes. You are.”

“I see you managed to coax Cassie back to your castle.”

I ease into a seated position. “That’s not exactly how it went.”

“Well, I can see how it’s going.”

“Whyare youhere?“ Luke’s tone oozes exasperation.

“I need a roll of toilet paper.”

He slouches and runs his hand over his head. “Of course you do.” He turns to me and gestures for me to stay like he gestures to Korg. Then he turns to his mother, his index finger pointed for emphasis. “Don’t talk. Do not. Talk to her.”

He takes off down the hall.

Cecelia remains standing in the middle of the living room. She flutters her hand over her hair and then re-clutches her robe. “I’m not sure what he thinks I’m going to say.”

I think back to Luke’s home tour that ended abruptly when Cecelia surprised us in the same manner, drunk as a sailor. I still remember what she said. That Luke was pining for me over alcohol and said I was “the one.” What made me recoil then makes my stomach flutter now.

I lift my shoulders in the most respectful shrug I can manage. “Maybe he thinks you’re going to say mom stuff. Like ‘He’s such a good boy.’”

“That’s what I say to Korg even though I don’t mean it.”

“Korg really is a good boy though. Usually.” Except when he dunks me in marsh water that’s teeming with alligators.

“The dog stinks.”