There was some sort of commotion going on outside; sounded like two men arguing.
"Mmph!" Luke groaned, banging a pillow over his exposed ear in an effort to drown out the offending noise.
The angry voices grew louder.
Luke buried his throbbing head deeper into the sheets. "Shut up!"
It was pointless. Soon he'd get pulled into whatever it was going on, just like he was always dragged into every disaster to befall the Grimaldi family in the past few years.
He flung the pillow from his head and winced as his hazel eyes were assaulted by the bright Californian sunshine.
"Fuck!"
The room did a mini-spin as he sat up; holding the palm of one hand to his heated forehead. Using the other hand, he felt around awkwardly for the glass of water he knew was somewhere on the bedside table, sending his gold watch and latest novel crashing to the floor.
Having parched his burning throat, he ran fingers through his hap-hazard blonde hair, before holding onto the bed as the room did yet another spin.
"Woah..."
He didn't drink that much! Or did he? He tried to remember, but the events of the previous evening were foggy at best.
"I'm never drinking again!" He vowed. Although he made this same promise about four times a week.
Whatever altercation was taking place in his front garden, the voices seemed to be getting louder and angrier by the minute. And one of those voices definitely belonged to Holden.
It seemed to Luke this was all he was destined to deal with lately; loud angry people yelling in his face; all wanting money Luke just didn't have.
But, however much he felt incapable of dealing with what was sure to be yet another debt collector, he knew it wasn't fair to leave it to Holden. His mother's husband had been like a rock for him during Damian's trial; and Luke would be damned if he allowed anybody to treat Holden in the same manor they did Luke.
Standing on wobbly legs, he pulled his cotton robe over his naked body and headed for the door. He paused for a moment, wondering whether he should at least consider a pair of boxers, but his head throbbed a warning.
"Let's just get this joker off the property first."
He grabbed his sunglasses from atop the dresser and headed outside.
...
The first thing Luke noticed, once he'd adjusted to the bright sunshine, was the Dodge; upended in the roses.
How the hell did that happen?
The second was the man who'd disturbed his sleep; tall, muscular, impeccably dressed. Definitely not the usual debt-collector type they were frequented with.
First making sure he was actually awake and not in the throngs of some wild dream, Luke was suddenly incredibly conscious of his uncombed hair, the fact he smelled like yesterday's booze, and most of all, his lack of underwear.
The only thing he could be grateful for were the sunglasses hiding the ugly dark circles he surely had under his eyes.
Mr Gorgeous headed over, all six foot forever of him. He had the shoulders of an Olympic swimmer, a deep chest, lean waist, slender hips and strong legs that went on and on.
Determined to gain control of the situation, Luke ignored the approach, strolling past the stranger to examine the state of the vehicle.
"Well," he joked. "Would you look at that! A car in the roses!"
"Are you the one responsible for this?" There was utter anger and disgust in the other man's voice.
Luke shuddered as he turned to face him, arms folded in defiance.
"Well?" the man asked, whipping off his sunglasses to reveal sparkling blue eyes. "Are you?"
Luke couldn't answer. He was instantly glued to the spot by those spectacular eyes. He felt like a slab of meat on a butchers block.
Which piece will he cut off first?
"Anything to say for yourself?" the stranger continued. "Anything at all? This is a 1967 Dodge Coronet RT, for Christ's sake! Do you have any idea how rare these are?"
Luke opened his mouth to speak, but the raging testosterone emanating from the pure gorgeousness that was before him; albeit angry, left Luke uncharacteristically speechless.
"Oh my god!" Gorgeous exclaimed with repugnance. "You're high, aren't you?"
Anger flared up quickly inside of Luke and he gained his voice back. "Excuse me?"
"Jesus, son!" Holden chimed in, shaking his head. "Please tell me you didn't drive home drunk last night?"
Luke knew he should hang his head in shame and apologise to Holden for his actions. But the dark-haired man had raised a dragon inside of him. He squared his hips, spread his legs wide and glared a challenge at the young stranger. "I don't see how this is any of your business!"
"It isn't," he replied through his teeth. "But if you planned on trashing the car all along, it would have been good of you to let me know before I drove all the way out to view it before the auction!"
The advertisement!
Luke would have slapped himself in his forehead for his stupidity, but he'd be damned if he allowed himself to lose face, especially in front of a man that for some reason was making Luke feel weak at the knees. Instead, he turned on his famous charm and joked, "So, do you think you can move the car before it does anymore damage to my roses?"
The broad shoulders of the man before him grew even tenser as he approached Luke like a thunder cloud. He suddenly appeared incredibly large. Luke's heart skipped a beat; but he held his nerve.
"You're screwed!" the stranger seethed through his teeth.
Luke's reaction was immediate. He was sick to death of being on the receiving end of everybody's disdain, anger and disappointment. Even if this time it was his fault. Of course he felt guilty about the car! But he was damned if he was going to show it. He drew on the first lesson he'd ever learned from his mobster father, Damien Grimaldi; when forced into a corner, use wit and sex appeal.
"I look forward to it," he purred.