Unavoidable Bond

by C Bradley

  “I strongly doubt that Hannah would complain about the fabric clinging to every muscle in my upper body. In fact, I’m sure she’d encourage it from the way she’s been ogling me at the gym.” I shout in her direction.

  Addison emerges from the bathroom, after a few minutes, wearing a nude colored barely there cocktail dress that puts her toned, sun-kissed legs on display.

  “Damn, Adds. Your ass is hanging out. Maybe you should leave something to the imagination.” I chuckle. I love taunting her into a tizzy.

  “Shut up and zip your fly, so we can get out of here,” she sasses, slipping on matching heels.

  Looking down to check that my manhood is tucked away, I adjust my jean pockets, tucking away my wallet and cell. “Someone’s in a rush to get laid tonight.”

  With an evil look over her shoulder, she grabs her purse and walks towards the car.

  Climbing out of the clown car that Addison insisted on driving tonight, also known as a Mini Cooper, I glance up at the lit-up sign, right above the oversized double wooden doors, that reads Black Ice. “I’ve heard about this place from a few guys at work. They said the drinks go down like water.”

  I hold the door open, as Addison walks through and spots our company for the night, waving them down. Micah approaches first with Hannah following shortly behind. She is holding the back of his shirt, so they don’t get separated in the growing crowd.

  Addy’s face reddens, when I call her out for staring at Micah, as he nears.

  “Now, that’s a man I could get behind!” She purrs.

  “Don’t you mean in front of?” I smirk, just as a hard elbow hits my ribcage.

  Micah kisses Addy’s cheek, and then reintroduces himself.

  I step up next, “Hey man. I’m Brody.” I shout over the music, grabbing Micah’s hand for a firm shake, before catching a glimpse of her. Those rich chocolate brown eyes peer from around Micah’s shoulder. “Hey beautiful. I’m Brody. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” I reach my hand out towards her.

  I’m not the kind of guy that believes in “soulmates” or that “insta-love” stuff that Addison watches on Lifetime, but even I can’t deny the electric connection, when our hands touch, and by the look of shock registering on her face, I know she feels it too.

  “Hannah,” she shouts back, before moving closer. We both look over at our friends who have seemingly forgot anyone else exists in the room. They are standing side by side beginning to walk away while chatting. “Well, I guess that just leaves two.” The same humor dancing in her eyes laces her voice.

  “Let me buy you a drink,” I suggest, moving closer and placing my hand at the small of her back, directing her to an opening at the bar. With a quick nod, she shimmies in and out of people, making her way to the same spot I’d noticed. I glower at the men staring her down, but then again, if I were them, I’d want to as well. Between her painted on black leather pants, off the shoulder gray sweater, and black stilettos, she’s absolutely stunning.

  “I don’t put out on the first date,” she blurts out, once I’m pressed against her back, as she leans closer to the bar top.

  “That works out well because I’m a virgin.” I retort, causing her to spin around quickly and face me.

  “Are you shitting me?” She gasps.

  I lean in close, whispering, “Of course I am. I’d show you, but you don’t put out on the first date.” I give her a quick wink, as I flag down a bartender.

  She begins laughing, as she smacks me on the chest. “I would ask what you do for a living, but I already know the answer to that. So, what’s your story, Brody? Kids? Psycho ex-wife? Just plain crazy?”

  I begin tracing my fingertips from her shoulder to her elbow, feeling the same charge every time our skin touches. “Construction Foreman of course, no kids, a few psycho exes, nine point seven five inches, size twelve shoe, six-foot-one, two hundred fifteen pounds, one baby sister, and I’m only crazy about you.” I finish, flashing her a megawatt smile, as she nearly chokes on her beer.

  “Wow, self-depreciate much,” she giggles at her own sarcasm, and it fills my chest with this weird sensation. I shake my head watching her lips curl up into a devious smile, as I take a pull from my beer. “Soft or hard?” She inquires innocently. Her words catch me mid-swallow, and my beer flows down my windpipe.

  “Soft.” I reply. My lips quirk into a smile, knowing she senses the sarcastic yet playful undertone of my words. “I’m just trying to reveal all of my flaws early.” I actually feel a bit different right now. Rubbing my chest, I realize that the strange feeling is not and never was the beer. It’s just her.

  Reaching across the bar and grabbing a pen, I flip Hannah’s hand palm up within mine and begin scribbling my name and phone number. “I would like to see you again, but I’m going to leave that decision up to you, beautiful.”

  Waking up to an obnoxiously loud alarm, that I always forget to unset on weekends, I roll over and dismiss it by shoving it off the nightstand. The clock reads 5:00 a.m. Shit! I contemplate going back to sleep, but instead, I lift the covers to confirm my suspicion of a very awkward and borderline painful morning wood. Rolling my eyes, I pull the covers up to my chest. Well, now I can’t go back to sleep with this fucking thing! So, a few minutes later, I climb out of bed, hoping to will my pesky wood away by going for a run.

  Grabbing my running shorts from the basket of clean laundry and slipping them on, before finding a plain white T-shirt to throw on over it, I walk by the mirror and chuckle to myself. I better tuck this thing away, before I scare the neighbors! Popping my ear buds in and grabbing my keys, I stroll out of the door. Chevelle blares through my headphones, as I stretch my legs out to avoid cramps. Starting slow, I pick up the pace, as I get further down the street.

  Passing by all the quiet businesses on the street that aren’t yet open, Spotify continues to mix up the tunes playing from the billboard top 100 list. My running slows down to a jog, as a familiar song comes on. I briefly close my eyes, as the artist melodic voice fills my head. “I’m in love with the shape of you.” I attempted what can only be described as poor dancing skills to this song last night with her. Hannah. My eyes startle open by the loud sound of a horn, as I realize I seized jogging right in the middle of a four way stop. I wave my hands apologetically at the driver, while briskly making my way to the sidewalk.

  This gorgeous creature may just be the death of me.

  It’s been a week, since the night at the bar.

  Seven days since Adonis wrote his number on my palm.

  Six since I’d washed it off, telling myself I didn’t have time for the distraction.

  Five days that I’ve arrived extra early to the office and left even later just to avoid the gorgeous dark haired, light-eyed man who somehow elicits an electrical push and pull sensation I’ve never felt.

  Static. It was probably static and alcohol.

  Since the weather finally straightened out, I’ve been avoiding the gym and running a few miles in the crisp morning hours or just as the sun fully begins to set. The scenery is mesmerizing, watching the sky become a watercolor painting from a dark backdrop to highlighted pinks, blues, and oranges or going from a bright blue to deep purples, oranges, and red brush strokes.

  Jogging quickly down the stairs, I’m halted by a mass of muscle donned in running shorts and a sleeveless hoody with the hood covering his head.

  “Shit, sorry. Excuse m…” I start to apologize, as a set of grayish-green eyes startle me. “Um, Brody. Yeah, uh s-sorry,” I stutter. What in the holy hell!

  “Hannah,” he grins, his deep voice caressing my name. “Running away from a second date or a one-night stand?” His humor isn’t lost on me. I still remember his words and subtle touches that were bestowed upon me in the bar.

  “Yeah, no. I actually live on the third level.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but to eye his muscular biceps. “Lemme guess, skipping out on a lovely lady of the night?”

  “Nah, just my Saturday morning
jog.” He chuckles, before throwing a thumb up and in the direction of the apartment door he’s standing outside of. “That’s my place...neighbor.”

  No. Fucking. Way.

  “Um, okay then. Well, I’ll just see ya ‘round.” I offer, moving around his body careful not to touch him, and make my way to the sidewalk to begin my newly adopted routine. I only make it to the corner before I hear the sound of feet beside me. I tug my earbud from my left ear when a tap to my shoulder grabs my attention.

  “If you weren’t interested, you could’ve just said something.” The smug bastard grins and continues to jog at my speed.

  “It’s not that. It’s just complicated.”

  “It’s “always” complicated,” his agreement is coated in sarcasm, as he offers freaking air quotes.

  I pick up my pace, lengthening my stride, but the wall of endurance and muscle isn’t fazed; he keeps in step, as we cover the next four blocks. “Why are you following me?” I ask without looking at him.

  “I’m not following you. I’m running beside you. If I was following you, then I’d be behind you.” He laughs and continues, “Not that I would mind that view. Your ass is damn fine.”

  “Do you pick up all the girls like this?” I smart back, feigning annoyance.

  “You mean by running the same path I’ve ran for the past three years, since I’ve lived here? Nope, just my routine that you’ve hijacked.”

  We come to the intersection and wait in considerably awkward silence, until my brain short circuits and my mouth opens. “I wasn’t not interested. I just washed my hands because that’s sanitary, and I failed to write your number down.” Taking in a healthy breath, I chance a look at my running mate.

  “Hmm, good to know.” Brody nudges me just as the walking man illuminates on the traffic post. “So, I’ll see ya around I suppose, huh?” His bright white smile warms me to the core, and I trip. Throwing my hand out in front of me to catch my fall, I’m quickly steadied by two large hands.

  “Hannah, I mean all you had to do was ask,” he winks, as he slowly pulls his hands from my waist. “There’s no need to injure yourself to gather my attention, clearly.”

  “I did not intentionally throw myself at you, jackass. I tripped.” I snarl at him.

  “You tripped because you were staring at my lips and not watching where you were going.” Before I can find an appropriate retort, his large hand cups my cheek, and he presses a feather-light kiss to my forehead. “But Hannah, I promise, I’ll always catch you.”

  What? What does that mean? Blinking a few times to clear the confusion, I get lost in his gaze. A million butterflies take flight in my belly, and my heart begins to thud harder in my chest. I stand there long after he’s gone still thinking about what he said.

  “Ms. Scott, just a reminder that your space planning meeting has been relocated, and it’s now in your current office. I think the crew just needs to get specifics on your requests.” I nod at my administrative assistant, Millie, and make my way towards my soon to be remodeled office space. The joys of a leased office space redesign is inevitable, but customization is optional. And that option is one I’ll take every time.

  Feeling his presence, before he even speaks, causes my attention to pull towards the door, as Brody takes up the entire entryway. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my running partner and neighbor.”

  “Wh-what are you do-doin’ here?” I stutter through my shock. Brody’s lips tip up, as he peruses my body. His eyes zero in on my bare legs and travel back up, taking in my pleated navy skirt then up to my caramel sweater. “Enjoying the scenery?”

  “I am actually, and the aforementioned question, I’m the foreman on this project. Remember last Saturday at the bar, when you demanded my story?”

  “Okay then,” I bite back my smile and try to focus. “Let’s go over the plans.” I move to my desk just as the phone rings. Clicking the speaker option, Micah’s voice fills my office.

  “Hey, Banana. No phone screening today?”

  “I’m working. What do you need darling best friend who doesn’t work at his day job?”

  “I’m actually just heading to court, but I needed to confirm you’re a go for the annual beach house party for Memorial Day.”

  “Every year it’s the same place, same food, and same time. The only difference is the attire. I’ll be there.” I smile. Looking up, I catch the look of confusion crossing Brody’s face. “Look babe, I need to go. I have the site foreman here to ensure both my own, and my team’s space is perfect.”

  “Wait, slight variance on the get together. I’m bringing Addison. You should call that friend of hers.” Micah says teasingly.

  “Probably not,” I quickly respond.

  “Oh, come on, Banana. I know you want his banana. He makes you smile and giggle,” I quickly pick up the phone, as Micah continues. “Like a girl in high school having her first real crush.”

  “Micah, I cannot even begin to deal with you. I need to go, now!”

  “Oh, shit. He’s the foreman isn’t he, Banana? And he’s in your office right now, and I was on speakerphone, right?” Micah’s voice quivers, as laughter begins to pour through the line into my ear.

  “Dead!” I growl, as I attempt to calmly hang up the handset with shaky hands, dreading the moment I have to look at Brody again.

  “So, about these modifications,” He says calmly, his face showing only professionalism. Although, there’s a glint of humor in his gray gaze.

  “Listen, I’m really…” I start to apologize, only to be interrupted.

  “Hannah, this is your personal office, and this is my workplace, until the job is finished. I’m a professional.” The corner of his mouth ticks up just slightly.

  The bastard is enjoying this way too much.

  “O-okay. But I’m sorry. Micah isn’t always,” I shrug failing to find the word. “Anyways, I’m sorry. So, what are your questions?”

  Sometimes, all it seems I’m doing is counting the days away in hopes that my mortification level dissipates. Between Micah not only blabbing his mouth, by my inability to avoid the foreman in person or in my dreams, I’m in a constant state of flush.

  Rounding the hallway just off the elevator banks, I stop mid-stride and pivot towards the opposite direction. Not having my own workspace is a pain in the ass. I have no place to escape, shut my door, and decompress. Nope, I’m in the trenches with my six direct reports, and the construction crew has become frequent fliers in our space. Validating requests that weren’t completely clear, ensuring their design plan matches the specifications.

  I take my seat and fire up my laptop, when three of my employees make their way into the room, giggling like little school girls.

  “He’s just so...” Cris sighs dreamily.

  “Hot,” Jennifer says blushing.

  “Muscley,” Ashley gushes.

  “Ashley, that isn’t even a real word, and who are y’all cooing over this morning?” I ask, as I stare at my computer screen and sort my inbox.

  “That tall glass of ice-water on a blistering hot summer day!” Cris exclaims.

  “Mhmm,” I respond, then hear a series of shushes and whispers just as that pull draws my attention. This sensation of all over warmness is so foreign to me. It’s almost as if I’m warming from the inside out, but in a variation of degrees. My stomach feels tingly, yet in knots, and my chest feels heavy, yet my head feels light.

  “Ms. Scott,” Brody says, clearing his throat and pulling me out of my perusing gaze. “I need you to stand up against the wall, please.” His teasing smile has me on guard, but really what would he try in front of my staff, yet still I hesitate.

  “Why?” I sass.

  “Because I need a visual.” The cackling that begins behind him causes my skin to heat and redden. “Hannah?” Brody says softly, moving closer. “You’re gaping your mouth like a guppy fish.”

  Snapping my mouth closed, I quickly stand and find myself off balance. Using my desk to stabilize my shaki
ng limbs, I mentally smack myself a few times and make my way to the wall Brody is now propped up against.

  “Now,” he stops, looking me in the eyes. The humor that I typically find is now replaced with a smoldering linger, as he licks his lips. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. That look alone is going to cause me to combust.

  I need to get laid.

  Praise Jesus! I hope he cannot read my mind!

  Shit the humor is back in his eyes, and his full, brilliant white smile is gleaming towards me. I suck in a deep breath and shake my hands, as he leans in close, his voice a soft, raspy whisper. “You’re fucking gorgeous, when you’re nervous and thinking naughty thoughts, babe.”

  “Shut up,” I hiss. I’m going to combust. I’m a fireball of embarrassment, pent up sexual frustration, and tension.

  “Pretend you’re writing on the wall. I need an estimate on height parameters.”

  I let out a long and loud sigh, and then comply with his request. Laughing as he curses because he forgot the measurement sheet. He pulls out his phone and types something out, then excuses himself from the office and apologizes for the interruption. But I’m certain the little horny hens loitering around the office aren’t inconvenienced at all.

  Random number: Hey, no run today?

  Me: Who is this?

  Random number: Really? Do you run with that many random people?

  Me: HOW did you get my number?

  Sex-on-Legs: It’s called charm and persuasion.

  Sex-on-Legs: What is your apartment number?

  I stare at my iPhone blinking, but I’m unable to muster up a logical reason to either answer or avoid this man. It’s like he won’t give up. What does that even mean? I’m not a one-night stand kind of woman, but I’m also not a believer that fairytales come true, or that Prince Charming actually exists.

  Sex-on-Legs: Suit yourself, babe.

  A sense of panic bubbles up in my chest, why I have no idea. I don’t even know this guy. Yeah, he’s gorgeous, stacked, and hell, he’s even got a sense of humor, which is a must for me. For me? Really, Hannah Grace! Get a grip. Rolling my eyes, I make my way from the kitchen to the living room, willing the war in my head to go away.