The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set

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The Sport of Romance: A Multi-Author Box Set Page 66

by Cari Quinn


  Carrying my tea, I retrieve my phone from the coffee table and sit cross-legged on the couch. I flip through until I find the last text conversation with Jason. “At Denver airport. Found a place, thanks. Remind me to tell you what Mr. Jones said about you, lol. See you in June.”

  With all that has happened in the last few weeks, I had forgotten. Jason will be here next week. Perhaps my subconscious was reminding me? I really have to talk to it because that was a horrible way to bring something to my attention.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  With a mug of hot chocolate, I walk into the boarding house living room. A few girls watch a reality show. Mrs. Matheson sits in her rocking chair. A ball of yarn unravels in her lap as she knits. She doesn’t watch the show, but I can tell she listens. I have a suspicion she’s more interested in the comments the girls make. I sit next to her. “What are you making?”

  “I’m working on a sweater. One can never have too many cardigans in Colorado.” She looks at me over her glasses. “How is that dear boy you date? Is he still grieving over his friend?”

  It’s been tough. The first few days I was afraid to leave him alone and trust him to go to the counselor. Medication and time have really helped.

  Holding my cocoa in both hands, I raise it to my lips and take a small sip to check the temperature. “He’s still sad, but each day is better. They were very close and he’s taking it hard. I’m not sure how he’ll cope with skiing next year.”

  “Poor dear. I’m glad he has you.” She gives her yarn a small yank.

  “I’m lucky to have him.” The hot drink’s sweet flavor covers my tongue. “Mrs. Matheson, I’m looking for a new job. Clara is gone, and cleaning with other girls just isn’t the same. Do you know if Mr. Jones needs any help?”

  “I think he may. We get busy in the summer with house sales and booking next year’s rentals. Would you like me to ask? You sure made an impression on him.” She chortles.

  I’m a little curious what it is that Mr. Jones thinks of me but figure I may find out soon enough. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” I sit back in my chair and watch the show. It’s not very good, but my housemate’s comments are entertaining. Mrs. Matheson knows a thing or two.

  * * *

  “Miss Cassidy, it’s so good to see you again.” Mr. Jones’ beefy hands dwarf mine.

  “Please, call me Casey.” I sit in the cloth chair across from his big, shiny wood desk.

  He chuckles. “You are something.” He sits back in his leather chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more confident young woman. You came at me locked and loaded. And gosh darn if it didn’t work. If I had had a job to give, you would have had it then and there.”

  “Thank you.” I think. I don’t remember feeling confident, just determined.

  “So Mrs. Matheson tells me you’re ready to move on from cleaning. Janet will miss you. She tells me you and Clara are her star players.” He folds his hands with index fingers extended and presses them against his lips.

  “Janet has been wonderful to me.” I think of the casserole and food she put in Blaine’s refrigerator the day I asked for help. “Thank you for sending me to her.”

  He leans forward and rests his meaty arms on the desk. “So here’s what I need. You know we get quite busy in the summer with people listing their homes to sell or rent, showing them, and booking rentals. I need someone to take the photographs of the properties and learn how to use the video camera for the online tours. How does that sound to you?”

  “That sounds like fun. What are the details?” Excitement rushes through my veins.

  “You fit it in with your schedule. Mrs. Matheson will keep a list of locations, and you work on checking them off the list. I pay by the job. We have all the equipment; I just need the girl.”

  I have to find presentable clothes. Shopping trip. “I’m teaching skiing this winter. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “I heard that. It shouldn’t be. We dry up in November. I may call on you from time to time over the winter, but I think it will fit just fine. Our agents do their own right now and can always fill in if need be.”

  “Fantastic, I’ll take it.” Yes! Photographing gorgeous homes? This sounds fun.

  “Excellent. Go see Mrs. Matheson to find out when you can be trained.” He stands up and walks around the desk toward me. “Casey, I look forward to seeing you around here.” He reaches out his hand and shakes mine.

  “Thank you, Mr. Jones. I look forward to seeing you, too.” I do a little happy dance in my mind. And I picture how cool I’ll look with a camera around my neck.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Tell me why you like this?” Blaine is bent over with his hands on his thighs. His chest heaves. His face is red and beads of sweat roll down it.

  “It gets easier. Once you get in shape, you look forward to it.” I’m on a mission to make sure Blaine gets out of the house each day. It’s so easy for him to move from his bed to the couch and get caught up in TV. This is a guy that used to hate being cooped up inside. I decide to add him to my morning exercise routine. I run about five to eight miles most days. Today, we make it one. “C’mon. We’ll walk for a bit.”

  “You’re trying to kill me.” He straightens and stretches his arms high over his head.

  I look up and down his body with mischief in my eyes. “No, that is most definitely not what I’m trying to do.”

  “Wait. You think I’m getting fat?” He grabs the skin at his belly. “Huh. Maybe I am getting a little flabby.”

  I snort. “Hardly. I was only appreciating the goods.” I give him a wink and step closer. I grab his T-shirt at the chest and pull him down to me. I kiss him.

  “Oh, I can live with that.” He pulls me against his sweaty body. I smell a mix of musk and spice. Uh-oh. There’s that familiar twinge. He bends down and kisses me tenderly. I return the kiss with a simmer of passion on its way to more.

  A tattered-looking Subaru drives by and a guy yells, “Get a room!” I see a hand wave out the window as it stops at the intersection ahead of us.

  I break away. “Who was that?” I walk in the direction of the intersection.

  “Kaleb. He works at the bike shop. I stopped in yesterday to see if they still want me. I start tomorrow.”

  “That’s great! That’s when I start working for Mr. Jones.”

  “I know you’re sick of cleaning. You must be glad.” He lifts his shirt and wipes his face.

  “I am on both counts. It hasn’t been the same since Clara stopped. She knew how to make it fun. The other girls… well, let’s just say I didn’t memorize any names.”

  “When do you move into Clara and—Clara’s house?”

  “Next week. I’m kind of excited to have all that space and sad at the same time. I’ll miss the boarding house. But I’ll probably go back in the fall, so it’s all good.” We turn the corner and are on Main Street. The smell of donuts floats toward us. A bakery is up ahead, and thinking about deep-fried sweetness makes my stomach growl.

  “Hungry?” Blaine smiles at me.

  “Kind of, but I didn’t bring any money. I can wait.”

  “You don’t need that crap anyway. When we get to my apartment, I’ll make you eggs.”

  A memory of Jason invades my mind. “You eat crap.” He should be here any day now.

  “I’m sure eggs are better for me. But I love donuts.” Main Street is quiet this time of day. Shop owners won’t be in for a couple more hours. We walk by windows shielding dim interiors. My stomach growls again.

  We pass the cheese shop. “Does Kaleb date Tara? The girl from Texas that used to live in my boarding house?”

  “I don’t know. Hey, you know who we haven’t seen in a while? Nick and Megan.”

  “Are they around in the summer?” My legs are stiff, and I remember I had wanted to run more after taking Blaine on the short loop.

  “I think so. I’ll call Nick and see if we can do something.” He steps up on the concrete stair
s toward his apartment.

  I stop. “Get back here. We’re not done.” I lunge forward and put my foot on the bottom step. Sinking down, my hamstrings stretch. I hold until the pain subsides and switch legs. Blaine stands next to me and mimics my movements.

  Stepping away, I bend my knee and catch my foot behind me. I lift it to my butt and hold. “We could grill out at Clara’s next week after I move in. It would be fun.” Maybe that isn’t such a great idea. “I’m sorry. That might not be fun for you. That house has memories.”

  “No. I think it’s a good idea. That house has good memories.” We start up the steps. “I need to go see those kids before they leave. I miss them.” Blaine unlocks his door and pushes it open, stepping back for me to go in first.

  “Me, too.” I walk into the kitchen and get started on the coffee. Blaine opens the fridge and starts to collect food. I think of my lunch with Clara and her wonderful gift. “When is Clara’s birthday? November, right?”

  “Yeah. What made you think of that?”

  “I was remembering the lunch I had with her a couple of weeks ago. She gave me a gorgeous hand-knit scarf for my birthday. I can’t wait to wear it.”

  Blaine stops cracking eggs in a bowl. “Oh.” He looks at me for a second and then turns away. He disappears to his bedroom. Huh? I hear drawers being pulled open and pushed shut. He comes out with a big smile on his face. “Found it.”

  “Found what?” He has a little present wrapped in plain, plum-colored paper with a dark green ribbon. “Your birthday present.”

  “You got me a present?” My birthday was a couple of weeks after Tim died. I never expected Blaine to remember or even think about getting me a present. “You’re so sweet. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I found it one day last spring and knew it was the perfect thing. But with the avalanche, well, I forgot all about it. It’s been hiding in a drawer. Open it.” He hands me the box.

  I pull the ribbon untied and slide a finger under the seam of paper. Tearing it apart gently, my fingers wrap around a soft velvet box. I pry it open and reveal a pair of dainty, green stone earrings set in gold. “Oh, Blaine, these are beautiful.”

  “They’re emeralds set in 14-karat gold.” Blaine beams. He’s pleased I like them.

  I pull the back of one off and remove it from the box. I put it in my earlobe and attach the back. I do the same with the other. “How do they look?” I stretch my neck out for him to see.

  “Gorgeous, just like you.” His face shines.

  I scamper off to the bathroom mirror to see them in my ears. “I love them!” I yell from the bathroom. I do. They’re so pretty. I turn my head from side to side and admire them. I almost skip back to the kitchen, thinking about how happy he makes me.

  Blaine is cooking the eggs, so I wrap my arms around his muscled chest from behind and lay my head against his back. I breathe in his musky scent. He turns around with a spatula in his hand and kisses the top of my head. “Happy Birthday.”

  I reach up and kiss him. “Thank you. I may never take them out.”

  I hop my butt up on the counter to watch him cook. Just as I smell bread burning, two slices pop out of the toaster. He takes two plates down from the cupboard and puts a piece of toast on each. Taking a knife, he butters them and then cuts one in triangles and the other in rectangles. In both rectangles he cuts a small rectangle out of the edge of a long side.

  “What are you doing?”

  He looks up at me and smiles mysteriously. “You’ll see.” He arranges the toast on two plates.

  “It’s a house! How cute is that?” I clasp my hands together.

  “Ah, but wait, there’s more.” He squeezes a bottle and ketchup spits out in swirls coming out of the chimney. “For your eggs.” He chuckles at me. He thinks it’s strange that I like ketchup on scrambled eggs.

  “You’re so clever. You’ll be such a great dad someday.” He will. This man is so adorable. Watching him, I picture little kids at a table with Blaine making them breakfast. I imagine they’ll have blond hair and his icy-blue eyes. Or maybe one will have my green eyes. Perhaps curls too? I’m content with this vision.

  He slides eggs out of the pan onto my plate and then onto his. The smell makes my mouth water. Putting the plates on the table, he moves to the fridge for orange juice. I pour us two steaming cups of coffee. Adding cream to Blaine’s, I watch as it sinks in, tinting the color. I stir and see it get lighter. Two coffee mugs in one hand, I grab ketchup with the other and go sit. Blaine sits across from me and sets a glass of juice by my plate.

  I put a bite of eggs in my ketchup and then in my mouth. The slight salty-sweet taste rolls over my tongue. I focus on Blaine. His face has strong, angular cheekbones and I watch as his full lips move with his chewing. His eyes are the color of faded denim. The stray locks of hair make my fingers long to touch them.

  “You’re staring at me. What are you thinking?”

  I’m thinking I want to have your babies. I’m thinking I want to spend my life with you. I’m thinking—I’m in love with you. “I love you, Blaine.” My voice is soft. My heart is bursting, and a silly grin covers my face. I love him.

  He puts his fork down. He looks a little surprised, but warms into a happy smile. His hands reach across and take mine. “I love you too.”

  * * *

  “I’m in love.” Walking home from Blaine’s I text Gretchen.

  “OMG, really?”

  “Yup, dreaming of our babies, too.”

  “Don’t you have to have sex for those?”

  Damn it, good point. “We’ll get there.”

  “I’m happy for you. <3”

  “Thanks.”

  “Need any video recommendations? :D”

  “Very funny. I’m good.”

  Crap. I’m in love with a man that’s barely gotten past kissing me. Me, the girl with a teenaged boy’s sex drive. Perhaps sex-ed with Casey isn’t such a bad idea after all. I cringe when I think about the wine fiasco. I need a better plan. I think this time straight-out honesty is the way to go and not over-the-top sexy outfits or seduction tactics. Just talk when the opportunity presents itself. Armed with this thought, I hope I have the courage to do it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  My heart pumps a strong rhythm, and my lungs drink in oxygen with each breath. I take long strides, and the muscles through my torso stretch. They flex in an alternating pattern as my legs propel me down the sidewalk. The steady sound of my feet making contact with the pavement is hypnotizing. Up ahead is an intersection. I see a truck and look for the driver to wave me by. I hesitate and see the hand motion for me to go.

  “Shit!” The driver hits his car horn just as I’m in front of him. Feeling the quick surge of adrenaline from nearly jumping out of my skin, I glare at him. He’s laughing. And I see it’s Jason. Jerk.

  I walk over to the window. He lowers it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Didn’t you even know it was me?”

  I punch him in the arm. “No. I was in the zone. You scared the crap out of me.” At eight thousand feet, the nights get cool in the summer. My morning run is chilly today. I catch Jason’s gaze as it darts to my chest. I’m sure my nipples are hard from the cold.

  “I’m on my way to the job site. First day.” He looks as cute as ever.

  “Welcome to Breck.”

  “Thanks. I don’t want to be late on my first day. Gotta go.”

  Still a little shaken from my scare and a little pissed he looked at my chest, I say, “Don’t let me stop you.”

  “I’ll text you later.”

  “You do that.” I take off running. I’m so over him. He pissed me off with a move that would have made me lust after him a few months ago. Wow, this love stuff rocks.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The bell on the door announces my entrance to the bike shop. A head pops up from behind the counter. “Can I help you?”

  “Is Blaine here?”

  He’s a shaggy-haired guy too skinny fo
r his pants and looks like the typical skate rat turned snowboarder. “He’s test riding a bike right now.”

  “Oh, tough job you guys have.” I smile at him so he knows I’m teasing.

  “It’s not bad.” He shrugs his shoulders. I can tell he’s trying to find his inner cool to impress me. He comes out from behind the counter while hitching up his jeans. “Are you looking for help with your bike?”

  I decide to relieve him from possible embarrassment. “No, I’m Blaine’s girlfriend. I just wanted to know if he could have lunch with me.”

  “Oh.” A little deflated, he starts to fiddle with a bike’s handles. “He should be back soon.”

  “I’m just going to look around a bit, thanks.” The bike shop is a ski shop in the winter. The carpet is threadbare by the door and over near the benches where people sit to have boot work done. It has an odor of smelly feet, which right now seems out of place. I love coming to a shop like this in the winter because it usually has the aroma of melted wax they use on the bottom of skis to keep them sliding on snow. Likely a smell only skiers love, I miss it right now.

  I need to tell Blaine about Jason being here, but with someone around I think that might not be a good idea.

  Shaggy is back behind the counter working on a bike that is secured to the worktable. I go sit on a bench and pull out my phone. I half expect to see a text from Jason. I don’t.

  “Hey, pretty girl.” Blaine has come in from the back, and approaches the counter. His hair is windblown and a breeze comes toward me.

  “How was the ride?” I stand up and put my phone in my back pocket. I walk toward the counter, and he comes out from behind.

  “Nice.” He looks hot in his shorts and T-shirt. He has skin that tans with just a touch of sunshine. And hair that bleaches almost as quickly. My heart skips a beat. He gives me a quick kiss. “What’s up?”

 

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