Page 94 of Meet Cute Reboot

I pull up Luke’s driveway, and Korg bolts to my car, tongue wagging. Luke trails after him.

“Korg, get back here,” he calls.

Luke’s heather gray T-shirt makes him look especially masculine, hugging his chest in all the right places, exposing his golden arms. His veins pop and his muscles flex as he gestures at Korg.

When I open my door, Korg wiggles toward me, his enthusiastic hello warranting a few head pats.

“Korg!” Luke approaches and grabs the top of my door as he tries unsuccessfully to wrangle the dog with his other hand.

“He’s fine,” I say. Korg exuberantly wags his tail.

The pebbly gravel crunches under my feet as I exit the car. Luke closes the door behind me. I open the passenger door, grab my bag from the back seat, and start toward the house.

We ascend the steps to the back porch, and he leads me through the mudroom.

“So, about this kayaking adventure...” I say. “You realize I swim about as well as a rock?”

He pauses in the kitchen and turns to give me his attention. “Safety measures will be employed. I’m also certified in CPR.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It’ll be fun. Trust me.”

“The CPR?”

“No. The kayaking.”

“Oh.”

He steps closer and lifts his hand like he’s going to touch my arm but stops himself. Our eyes meet and I blush. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“You’re safe with me,” he says.

In more ways than one, I hope. I want to believe.

“There are five bedrooms upstairs. You can pick your favorite. I suggest you go with the one that has a bed.”

I laugh. “That’s a lot of bedrooms.”

“A bit excessive, isn’t it?”

“I mean, you live here alone...”

“With Betsy.”

“Yes, with Betsy.”

Luke props his hip against the island and rests his hand on the counter. “I’m hoping I can get her to move on to the netherworld, or underworld, or great beyond. Somewhere that’s not here.”

“Then what will you do with all your empty rooms?”

He picks at a chip in the countertop and looks down. “I had this crazy idea of maybe filling them with kids.”

“Five kids!?” I’m shocked by the number and by his admission that he wants kids. When we were dating, he was adamant about never being a father.

“Ten? They could double up?” He looks at me and grins. “Kids these days are so spoiled. They think they need their own room.”

“I think you need your gray matter examined. No modern woman is going to squeeze out ten children.”