In prison, the meals had been so bad that chips and candy bars purchased at the commissary became prized possessions. Since his release, food had been the best thing in his life because he now took his time with it, tasting and appreciating it.

Maybe it was her company or the setting or the fact that some of the food had come right off the grill and onto his plate, but every item burst with flavor in his mouth. “This is really good.”

“Thank you. Are you surprised that vegan food can be tasty?”

“Yes.”

“What were you expecting?”

“That you’d make me sit cross-legged on the floor and eat nuts and seeds out of a bowl with my fingers.”

She laughed. “I don’t cook much on weeknights, but I find it relaxing on weekends.”

He wasn’t good at small talk and was extremely out of practice at having dinner with a woman. It was like his hands were suddenly double the size and he’d forgotten how to coordinate their movements.

The worst thing, though? The worst thing was that his physical attraction to her distracted him. He kept fixating on details of her. Her clavicle bones. Her wrist. The delicate skin beneath her ear. Her cheekbones. The indent above her upper lip.

What would it feel like to touch her there?

Ed would roll over in his grave if he could see into Luke’s mind tonight.

From his earliest memories, Luke’s worst fear had been his own worthlessness. After Ethan died, Luke had blamed himself, and his fear had come to fruition. He was worthless. That’s the conclusion he’d come to at fourteen.

When life meant nothing, it wasn’t difficult to throw it away. He’d numbed the pain with danger, defiance, and bad decisions. In some twisted way, the rush he’d gotten from that had at least made him feel partly alive. Jail had finally put a stop to his downward spiral. But Luke knew he’d never be good enough for Finley. Ed would agree.

He took a drink of water, struggling to get his head straight. What he’d promised was to keep her safe. His best shot at that was to hold on to his objectivity. So long as his emotions and hormones weren’t involved, he’d remain clearheaded enough to make decisions.

Finley set her fork on her plate and pulled her coat sleeves over her hands. “I’ve been thinking about the treasure hunt, and something has occurred to me.”

“I’m listening.” He took a bite of rice seasoned with herbs.

“I’m going to sound as if I have a very suspicious nature. Understand that my dad did try to develop some street smarts in me.”

“Understood.”