“Oh.” His voice was low and he looked sheepish for just a moment, before he raised his gaze to meet mine. “I can take you home.”

I just stared at him. Why was he being nice? He’d been cold since we met and a jerk since I’d come back this season. Didn’t he hate me? Why would he offer me a lift home?

“I don’t hate you,” he said quietly, leaning in closer. “And I’m offering because I’m one of the few who haven’t had anything to drink, and I want to make sure you get home safely.”

“I don’t understand.” The words were out before I could check them. I clapped my hand over my mouth. Alcohol did that to me, made the words in my head pop right out my mouth without any thought. I knew better than to have more than three.

Lucas gave me a chuckle and smile. He really was fucking pretty. His hair was a rich, dark brown and artfully arranged to look like soft waves. Coupled with his stunning eyes, his strong jaw, generous mouth, and perfect nose, he was gorgeous. I supposed he had to be, in order to be a success. He had talent, that was for sure, but his looks went a long way to making him famous. Too bad he was such an ass.

It was a good thing my hand was currently blocking my mouth or I would have really embarrassed myself with that diatribe. I had to wonder though, because of the way the man was staring at me, whether I had actually said that out loud anyway. My alcohol fuzzy brain couldn’t figure out what that look on his face meant. Then he shook his head, his face clearing, and reached out to pull my hand away. I imagined that he held it for a minute, his thumb stroking across my wrist, before he let it go. Damn beer.

“Come on.” Lucas’s voice was soft and low, like he was trying not to spook me. “Let me take you home.”

I was nodding before I realized it. Something lit in his ocean blue eyes before he turned away and started walking. I followed, dazed, confused, and not exactly steady. When I caught up to him at the door, he placed a hand on the small of my back and led me out. He took a left down the short hallway instead of walking into the restaurant proper. I’d come through the main dining room when I’d arrived, but Lucas pushed open a door and we were suddenly outside in the back parking lot. He steered me toward the far row.

Halfway there, I stumbled and he grasped my arm to steady me. I stared at the offensive pavement, trying to see what I’d tripped over. Had to be that crack there. Must have caught my toe in it or something. Only explanation.

“Or you’re a little bit drunk,” Lucas said softly, a chuckle in his voice.

I turned my glare to him. His face lit with his laughter, transforming him into something utterly delectable. I squinted even harder.

“Who are you?” I asked incredulously. “Lucas isn’t this nice to me.”