Chapter Twelve
On a Hot Streak
It's hard to walk away from a winning streak, even harder to leave the table when you're on a losing one. ― Cara Bertoia
LUKAS
Vanilla.
The smell of warm vanilla sugar.
Not the cupcakes. No. I wish it were the f*****g cupcakes. It’s her. It’s always been her. From the moment, I met her and put my arms around her to dance. From the second, I put my mouth on her freckles and played “Connect the Dots” on her skin…
The smell of vanilla has tormented me.
Even now, when the overpowering aroma of frosting fills the air, I smell her skin beneath it.
Warm. Fragrant. Delicious.
I shouldn’t have touched her. I shouldn’t have grabbed her body into mine at the cupcake shop. But it was instinct, a natural reflex, and now I sit in the car beside her, stewing in my
