His eyes pierce me for another few seconds before he nods. “Okay, how about this? We take turns deciding what to do. You can even go first.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
“I’m pretty secure I can run with the big boys no matter what you come up with.” At my raised eyebrow, he tips his head, a smile curving the side of his mouth. “Big boys and girls. So does that mean you’re in?”
“Oh, I’m in.” I walk over and open the door for him, not even a little ashamed as I stare at his ass as he walks out. “We’re on for next week. And Adam? Wear a cup.”
With that, I shut the door and lean against it, ignoring the way my nipples harden once again at the sound of his breathy laugh through the door. Looks like B.O.B. is going to get yet another workout.
FOURTEEN
adam
“I think for what you’re looking to use it for, this one is your best bet.” I point at the mountain bike with front and rear suspension shocks. One of the new things we’ve started implementing this week is offering some of our inventory to the customers to try out before they buy. This guy’s ridden five different bikes over the past couple hours, and he’s gotten it narrowed down to two. “You like how it feels?”
“Yeah, it’s definitely the most comfortable of what I’ve tried.”
“Well, there you go. I think you have a winner.”
He smiles and reaches to shake my hand. “I think you’re right. Thanks a lot for all your help with this. I’ve been putting this off for months because I’ve been so overwhelmed any time I looked.”
I walk him over to the cash register and ring out his purchases, adding on the new helmet and platform pedals. “No problem. That’s what we’re here for. And if you wanted to come back to check out the rock climbing guided lessons like we talked about, I stuck a coupon for half off your first one in the bag.”
“Thanks, man. You’ll probably see me back here this weekend.”
As he walks out the front door of the shop, this weird sense of accomplishment settles over me. I’m not sure if it’s because of that particular purchase, since I spent two hours with him to find the perfect bike for what he’s planning to use it for, or if it’s a mixture of what else is going on at the shop, but I can’t deny it’s there. I also can’t deny it feels damn good.
After more than a month of doing nothing but crunching numbers, of forcing myself to stay in that too-tiny closet of an office and figuring out exactly how far into the red my parents were and how to get them out of it, I’m finally on the floor doing something. I forgot how good this feels, how accomplished I feel at the end of the day when I use not only my mind and my expertise on something, but my hands and my body, too. While working with numbers all day is satisfying, working in black and white with no shades of gray, I didn’t realize how much I missed the other aspects of this job. I’ve missed this. Missed feeling how I do at the end of a day at the shop.
We’re only days away from implementing the plan I came up with. Everything’s already been put in motion. The rentals and classes are all listed on the new site Jason designed for us—for which I seriously owe him a truckload of beer in thanks since he refused payment. Both rentals and classes are scheduled to start on Saturday. The only thing the classes are costing the shop is my time, and since I’m working for free, we’re not out anything. And we’ve actually managed some extra income from it on top of the fee we’re charging for the lessons, because almost all of the people who’ve signed up are renting the equipment needed from here to see if the activity is something they’d like. And if they’re not renting it, they’re coming in to buy it.
If I can keep up this pace the rest of the summer, I actually have half a chance of getting my parents out of the hole they’ve dug themselves into. The projected profits from this weekend are triple what the previous weekends have been…for the past three years. And this is only the first weekend. Once word of mouth takes off and the people doing the rentals and taking the classes start telling their friends about it, who knows what could happen.
My mind spins on new and innovative ways we could do even more. Like expanding to offer more classes than the three we’re starting with. And after I see how these do, I can look into offering a bigger variety, think about switching things to winter sports in the coming months, maybe offer ski or snowboarding lessons.
The thought stops me short—not because it’s a bad idea, but because I won’t be here to see it through.
If all goes according to plan, I’ll be back in Colorado by the end of August, beginning of September at the latest. And if my projections are anything to go by, I might actually be able to get home sooner.
That should make me happy…leaving before I planned. Getting back to the life I put on hold in Denver. The life of routine and security. A life purposely so far removed from the one I had growing up just so I could avoid outcomes like the one I’m stuck dealing with now.
A life I’m only just coming to realize is a bit…boring. It’s always been something I’ve wanted. Safety. Security. Predictability. And now? Now I’m not sure. All I’m certain of is I’ve had a blast these past weeks, being presented with challenges like I’m not in Colorado. Not just with the shop, but with Paige. Having someone push back, not bend to everything I say is a high I never thought I wanted. But I do. Want it. Want her. Badly.
And now, the whole goal I set out with this summer—to get my parents’ shop back on solid ground again—is directly at odds with the goal I didn’t even know I had: to get closer to Paige.
Seeing the shop succeed means maybe leaving town—leaving Paige—early. Possibly before we’ve even had time to start anything. Well, anything more than we’ve already started.
Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change anything. I’m not going to let it. I’m sticking with my plan to get closer to her, as close as she’ll let me, and then keep pushing a bit more, just like Tessa suggested. Not hard. Not enough to make Paige run scared, but enough to let her know I’m here and I’m interested. And she’s not going to scare me away like she’s managed to do with all the other guys who’ve come knocking.
And I’m going to start tonight, when we have our first non-date date. It was a stroke of goddamn genius, coming up with this solution. I’m not going to waste a single “date” either. Starting tonight, the game is on.
* * *
paige
Holy shit, I’m nervous. Like, butterflies staging a revolt in my stomach, oh-God-I’m-maybe-going-to-puke, epic level freak out, nervous. Why am I nervous? This isn’t a date. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is the exact opposite of a date. Even the name Adam gave these…events…suggests that.
So what is up with all the anxiety?
While my brain knows it isn’t a date, can understand the logic of having non-date dates with my former one-night stand and the guy who fingerbanged me in a bathroom, my stomach is all, what the fuck, dude? And my lady bits? Well. Let’s just say they’re most definitely revving up for the night at the mere thought of spending time with him.
But no, that’s not it. Not spending time with him. Why the hell would I get all tingly at the thought of hanging out with him? No, it’s because I’ll be seeing him. He’s like an all-you-can-eat buffet for my eyes, and I’m feeling one hundred percent lust for all his muscly goodness, that’s all. And, really, only someone who was blind wouldn’t feel some humming downstairs at the sight of him. He’s so fucking hot, I’m pretty sure he’s capable of making even straight dudes take a second look.
For my last night out with the douchebag extraordinaire, I wore a skintight dress, heels, and spent an hour on my hair and make-up, making sure they were just right. And tonight? When I’m actually looking forward to the plans? I spent a total of five minutes throwing shit on just to counteract everything going on in my belly and my underoos. I’m wearing the jogging pants that don’t do anything for my ass and Tanner’s old football T-shirt from high school that’s at least two sizes too big for me. My hair is pulled back in a ponytai
l, and I actually scrubbed all make-up off my face after getting home from the station. I also wore my period underwear just to make sure I don’t give into whatever this pull is that’s always between us.
Except there’s an annoying—and pretty fucking loud—voice telling me period underwear wouldn’t stop me if I decided to go for it with him. In fact, I’m pretty sure nothing would stop me.
A quick set of knocks sounds at my door, and I don’t let myself look in the mirror again before I answer it, because it’s most definitely not a date and who cares what I look like? When I pull open the door, Adam stands on the other side, the handles of a duffel bag clutched in his right hand. I let my eyes take a quick path up his body, and apparently there’s nothing this guy could wear that wouldn’t be hot as hell on him. He’s in basketball shorts and an unzipped hoodie over a T-shirt that’s tight enough for me to make out the defined muscles in his chest, and all I want to do is peel off every layer and get to the prize underneath.
“You ready, snookums?”
The laugh bursts free before I can stop it, and it pulls a smile to Adam’s lips. “Seriously? You’re still on that kick?”
“Still? Oh, I’m not stopping until I find one you like. I’ve got a whole arsenal of them right here,” he says, tapping his temple.
“Great. Can’t wait.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t appreciated.”
“Oh, well, if it’s not appreciated, I guess I better not do it anymore.”
“All right, smartass, are you ready or what?”
I grab my purse and step out into the hallway, shutting and locking the door behind me. “A better question is if you’re ready. Did you bring your cup?”
Adam glances at me out of the corner of his eye as we ascend the steps and head toward the parking lot. “You’re awfully concerned about me wearing a cup. Any particular reason?”
I obviously can’t tell him that any harm that comes to his dick would be a damn shame because it’s a glory to behold, so instead I shrug. “Just trying to protect your man parts for any future girlfriends.” The words feel like acid in my stomach, burning all the way up my throat. Why would I say something like that? I don’t want to see him with someone else, and I sure as hell don’t want to think about him with someone else. Except I do. Late at night, after I’ve worn out B.O.B. and am trying to sleep, I can’t stop the thoughts from coming to me. I have no idea why I torture myself so much, but I can’t stop it.
From the little bits of information I’ve gleamed from Jase and Cade, Adam doesn’t usually go for girls like me. So of course, I picture him with quiet beauties, the exact opposite of my obnoxious ass. His next girlfriend will probably be tiny. Like, so tiny, he can just tuck her under his arm and throw her around in the bedroom. And she’ll probably be a brunette. Or a redhead. And she’ll be a veterinarian or a pediatrician, not someone who gets excited at the idea of scouring crime scenes for evidence and examining blood splatter. She’ll want to spend their nights together going for quiet walks on the beach and snuggling while watching The freakin’ Notebook.
I can picture it just like it’s a goddamn commercial for a dating website. Two perfectly beautiful people doing perfectly beautiful things. Perfectly beautiful and boring things. You never see couples in those commercials watching horror movies together. Or rock climbing. Or having a little friendly competition at the batting cages.
Whatever. It doesn’t even matter if we’re not a typical couple because we’re not a couple at all. And I don’t want to be.
“Any reason you’re taking out so much aggression on my bag?” Adam asks. “Did it do something to you I don’t know about?”
I don’t realize I’ve ripped it from his hands and thrown it into the backseat of my car before slamming the door until he says something about it.
Jesus, Paige, get a goddamn grip.
“Sorry. Just getting amped up for our night. Woo!” I fist-pump, then climb into my side and wait for him to get into the passenger’s seat as I start the car. The silence between us is heavy, so I attempt to steer the convo in a direction other than my irrational frustrations. “So is this killing you?”
He shoots a glance to me, brow furrowed. “Is what killing me?”
I reverse out of my parking spot and head out of the lot toward our destination for the night. “That you’re not driving. You seem like the kind of guy who needs to do that.”
“What kind of guy is that?”
“You know, an opening-the-doors, paying-all-the-time, mind-your-manners kind of guy. A perfect gentleman.”
He’s quiet for so long, I finally glance over at him, and I’m sorry I did. I shouldn’t have. Eyes forward, idiot! But it’s too late, because Adam’s heated gaze is burned onto my retinas, no matter that I snapped my attention forward almost immediately.
And then he speaks and I’m afraid we’re going to get into an accident, because I might actually be melting into a puddle in the battered seat of my Jetta.
“No. It’s not bothering me.” His voice is all low and gruff and fucking delicious. “And I think we both know I can be less than a perfect gentleman when it’s warranted.”
The words hang in the air between us, and it feels like all the oxygen was sucked out of the car, pulled straight from my lungs. Oh, I know, all right. I know. All I have to do is close my eyes and see him that night in December, his face set in concentration. He wasn’t a perfect gentleman then. Not with his gruff words of demand against my ear or his panting breaths against the nape of my neck. Not with the tug of his fist in my hair, guiding me exactly where he wanted me to go. Not with the five tiny, finger-shaped bruises he left on the curve of my hip.
I don’t answer him—find I can’t answer. My mouth has dried up, all intelligent words fleeing my brain. But I don’t have to speak at all. The responses from my body say more than my words ever could, and right now, my nipples are broadcasting like a flashing neon sign.
The silence descends over us, but it’s not that comfortable kind of silence between two people who get along and can sit in the quiet. Don’t get me wrong, we have that, too, but right now the silence is ripe with possibility and full of memories, and it’s making it anything but comfortable.
Adam finally takes pity on us both. “Are you going to give me any clues about where you’re taking me?”
I exhale a deep breath, grateful he’s steered us back into appropriate territory. “You mean more than the fact that you need a cup?”
Huffing out a laugh, he shakes his head. “Yeah, about that… Are you sure I need to wear one?”
I glance at him as I turn right. “Considering I don’t have a dick, I guess I can’t be one hundred percent certain. All I know is if I were a dude and I had some jewels to protect, I wouldn’t want mine just flapping around in the breeze at this place.”
“Now you’re just worrying me.”
I laugh at his serious expression. “Did you bring one?”
“Of course I brought one. As someone with a dick, I can assure you I don’t mess around when someone says I should protect it. The cup’s in my bag you manhandled earlier.”
“I wondered what that was for. What else have you got in there?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, a bunch of stuff. Spare clothes, knee wraps, gloves, that kind of thing. And, apparently, now a cup. You can poke through the bag later if the curiosity is killing you.”
I slide him a glance out of the corner of my eye. “Don’t think that gives you a pass to dig through my purse.”
The look he gives me is pure horror, and I can’t help but laugh. At him, not with him, because he still looks horrified. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t even go into it if you asked me to get something for you. I have an older sister. She taught me all about purse etiquette. Namely, don’t touch it. Ever.”
I can’t stop the grin from sweeping across my face. “She sounds like my kind of girl. Does she live here?”
“Nah, she’s in North C
arolina.”
“That must suck. This is the first time my oldest brother, Dillon, has lived close since he graduated high school. It was rough not being near him.” I glance at Adam as I stop at a stoplight. “Are you two close?”
“Close enough, I guess. Not like Cade and Tessa, though. Aubrey lives her life and I live mine, but we’re there for each other when it counts.”
I think about being there for Dillon when he was going through everything with Steph, and indignation boils in my stomach. Good. This is good. I need a reminder right about now, because it’s easy to get lost in the attraction I feel for Adam. And it’s even easier to get lost in the banter and ease with which we talk.
It’s best to keep the topic on him. “You said she’s older?”
“Yeah, by three years.”
I shoot him a look. “Uh oh, we’re both the babies. That means we’re both going to throw fits until we get our way. Our non-date date tradition might end before it ever begins.”
“I think we’ll be okay.”
I take the last turn and pull into the parking lot. “If you’re sister’s older, how come helping the family business fell to you?”
“I guess because I’m the one who stepped up. She’s married with a toddler and is pregnant with her second. My nephew keeps her busy, and now with the baby on the way, she has her own shit to worry about. And I knew it wouldn’t be a quick fix to come here and help out.” He shrugs. “I could get away for a few months, so that’s why I offered.”
“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that. Don’t you have a job in Colorado? How’d you manage to get off for so long?”
“I’m lucky?” We both share a laugh. “The company I work for is a family-owned business, pretty small, and the owner is a friend of my family. He looks out for his employees, so his employees give a lot to the job. I’ve worked my ass off for him the three years I’ve been on at the company. Brought in some big accounts. Because of that, plus the history he has with my parents, he didn’t have a problem letting me leave…unpaid, of course.”
Paige in Progress (Reluctant Hearts #3) Page 10
