“Wicked street battle? Do you run across those often?”
I help her slip out of her gloves and hold the rope up while she climbs down from the ring. Which of course she has to do incredibly dramatically and ends up falling on the floor. Chuckling as I help her up, we go to my office and I grab us each a bottle of water out of my fridge and we both twist the cap and take a large swallow.
“How was your first time in the ring?”
“What makes you think that was my first time? I’m an old pro.”
I cock an eyebrow at her and she bursts out laughing. “Okay, okay. You’re right. It was my first. But it was super fun. I could totally see myself getting into it.”
“If you focus, yes.”
“Hey! I can’t help it. I have a lot of energy!”
I chuckle and shake my head, taking another drink of water. “So what are you up to the rest of the day?”
“Why? Want me to teach a couple classes?”
“Hell no.”
Sierra sighs. “Damn. I really thought I had a new career path going for me.”
“Right. Well, let’s think of other ideas, maybe.”
“I was kind of hoping to see what you were up to.”
I look around the room, spinning my finger around slowly. “I kind of thought that was obvious. I’m working?”
“But you own it. Can’t you blow off work for a day and have someone else help people punch each other? I’m bored!”
“I was right. You’re definitely worse than a toddler.”
“When did you say that?”
“I thought it.”
“Oh. Yeah, probably.”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Why?”
“Curious.”
She smiles. “I knew you liked me. I’m twenty-seven.”
“With the mentality of a seventeen-year-old?”
“Yup. That’s what makes me so fun.”
Groaning, I stand up and hope to usher her out of my office so I can get some work done but she’s digging her heels in as I’m trying to move her which makes me think she wasn’t joking when she asked me to blow off work for the day.
“Come on, Jack. Let’s go do something. Imagine the trouble I can get into if I’m left unsupervised. You wouldn’t want to be held responsible for that kind of mayhem, would you?”
“You aren’t going to give up, are you?”
“Not likely.”
I sigh, resigned. “Let me check with Neil to make sure he’ll be here if I need him.”
“Who’s Neil?”
“Kind of my manager.”
“Kind of?”
“Well, he helps run the place so yeah.”
“Wow. You sure know how to brag him up.”
Rolling my eyes, I lean my head out of the door. “Neil. You here for the day?”
“Yup.”
“Good deal. I’m going to deal with a pest control problem I have.”
“Hey!” Sierra shouts but laughs.
“Sounds good. Have fun!”
“Thanks,” I mumble and roll my eyes. “Come on, you pain in the ass. Let’s go find something that will burn off your energy so you can sleep good tonight.”
“Yay!”
I deserve a medal for this. Somehow I feel like this is Toolbag’s fault. If he hadn’t been using my number, she never would have been so interested in my life and I wouldn’t have to spend my day babysitting.
Though if I was being entirely honest, I’m not that upset about the change of plans. She’s entertaining, if nothing else. And lately, I haven’t had a lot of entertainment in my life.
“Let’s go eat some ice cream.”
I stop walking. “Ice cream? Now?”
She shrugs but keeps walking. “Why not?”
“It’s nine a.m., for one thing. And for another…”
Sierra emits a little growl. “If you say something about working out and ice cream, I’ll cut you.”
“From the sounds of it you need ice cream. Testy much?”
She shrugs and skips away then stops when we get outside and spins around to look at me. “Who’s driving? Me? I’ll drive.”
“No.” No way am I risking my life to have her drive us around.
“Really? I don’t mind.”
I have to press my lips together to stop from laughing at her response.
“I’m sure. Thanks, though.” I press the button and unlock the doors. Before I can get around to do it for her, she’s already opening the passenger door and climbing inside. “Where to?”
“Ice cream. Duh.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t we eat ice cream when it’s barely thirty degrees outside and, again, nine in the morning?”
“Exactly.”
“That was sarcasm.”
“I know that. I just chose to ignore it. I’m special like that.”
I drive in the direction of one of my favorite ice cream shops and look over at Sierra. She looks comfortable. Dark hair flowing over her shoulders from underneath the black beanie she put back on her head. She had shed her hoodie as we were “boxing” — a term I use very lightly — but put it back on now. The monochromatic look does nothing to diminish her cuteness. Or the memory of what she looked like without the bulky sweatshirt covering her torso.
The thin black shirt fit her perfectly. Not too loose but tight enough that nothing was hidden. Her insanely sexy curves on display for my eyes to feast on. I had a hard time concentrating when she tore her shirt off over her head, hair flying all around her. Breasts full, hips that flare out slightly with a trim waist. Her stomach isn’t completely flat and it made me have to bite back a moan for some reason. Probably because everyone who I’ve been seeing in the pictures from Toolbag are perfect by media’s standards. Just not my own. She’s a woman — a sexy woman who I told was annoying and like a little sister. One who’s taken.
But still… if she were anyone else, I’d have stared. Have noticed.
Did stare.
Did notice.
A few freckles dot the bridge of her nose and apples of her cheeks. A little bit of makeup on her eyes, but not overly done. Something on her lips to make them look shiny and a little pink. Last night they were bright red — but I like this better. More natural. It feels like it’s more her. And I don’t even know her.
I shift in my seat, realizing that I’ve just spent the last five minutes driving in silence as I think about all the things that turn me on about my passenger who’s dating someone seriously enough that she thinks he’s the one.
Shit.
Her scent, like she made pancakes and bacon for breakfast, permeates the air between us. Even spending an hour in a sweaty gym didn’t diminish her sweetness.
I clear my throat and glance at her again. Sierra reaches over and changes the radio station. Like she’s done it a million times with me. Like she doesn’t need to ask if it’s okay. Adjusts the heater then when she’s satisfied goes back to looking out the window as the trees and buildings pass by. Soon I realize I’m no longer driving us to the ice cream place, which is good because I doubt it’d be open anyway. In fact, I’m driving to Liberty, my hometown. Or what I consider to be my hometown anyway.
She wanted ice cream. Or maybe just dessert. And no one makes better dessert than my father’s pastry chef, Christine, at my dad’s restaurant Balance. Or what she makes for her own coffee shop, Dreamin’ Beans, that’s right next door. Either way, her sweet tooth will definitely be satisfied.
Shit.
Again.
Now I’m driving her thirty minutes out of town to a place where my entire family will be and will ask a million questions and I’ve known this girl for a hot second? No.
I pull over to the side of the road when it’s safe. She looks over at me as if she knows exactly what’s been going through my head for the past however long I’ve been driving. A little smirk plays on her pink lips that she’s rubbing together.
“Engine trouble?”
&nbs
p; “Yup.”
“Must be serious.”
I nod. “Probably is.”
“Seems like it would be.”
“Yeah.”
“Better get somewhere to have it looked at, huh?” She makes a big showing of tapping the dash then falls into a fit of giggles.
“We probably should. Not safe to be on the road, you know?”
“Oh, I know. Not safe at all.” Her slow wink and sassy tone tells me she knows absolutely without a doubt what I was thinking about. Probably didn’t help that I know my eyes strayed to her legs about every thirty seconds. Hoping that her baggy joggers would somehow become… less baggy. Ugh. I need to get laid. Right? That’s what this is? I’ve been put in the middle of the Garden of Eden with all the texts and pictures I’ve been sent for the last several weeks and a man can only handle so much before he just… needs.
More.
Needs more of…
Dammit!
Before I can stop myself from looking like an idiot, I push open my driver’s door and step outside, shoving my hands through my hair, I walk around a few seconds. Pacing back and forth on the side of the road. Taking in a deep breath of brisk air.
This is what those Gifs and memes are talking about with the whole ‘that escalated quickly’ comments. It did. Last night I was annoyed by her. Not like in a bad way, I suppose. But still annoyed. Or confused by her maybe? I don’t know what I was but it wasn’t… this. Turned on is what I am.
Turned on by the woman I met and talked with for just a few minutes and worked out with this morning, even though working out isn’t exactly what she did. And, because I need another reminder, she’s taken. Taken. Permanently, the way it sounds.
I’m not a cheater. Not someone who would ever be with someone who is promised to another. Which is why I’m able to clear my head and shake off the feeling of being attracted to her. She doesn’t even live here anyway.
One more deep breath and my mind is back to normal.
Steam billows out from the muffler of my idling Jeep and I can hear the music Sierra is listening to while I freak out.
As soon as I’m back inside, I look behind me, check the mirrors for good measure, and do a u-turn in the highway and head back the way we came.
Sierra doesn’t ask questions.
Doesn’t smirk or make a single comment.
Just hums along to Kane Brown sing about What Ifs.
What if.
Yeah. That sounds about right.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder and both our attention flies to it.
“Oh my gosh, please let me look!”
“What if it’s personal?”
The look she gives me makes me chuckle.
“What? I could have a personal life.”
“Mm hmm. You could but you don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“We established this already last night, Jack. Anyway, let me look! Please, oh please! I’ve been sitting here so good and quiet and never said a single thing while you were freaking out over there after realizing that you think I’m hot stuff and are bummed that I have a boyfriend.”
“You just did.”
“I know but seriously how was I expected to hold that all in? I mean, come on! That took like all of my willpower. Do you realize that? All of it was used up on biting my tongue. Literally biting it!” She sticks it out and then slurs, “Thee? Ith thwollen becathe of you!”
“You could have put your tongue back in your mouth to tell me that.”
She does and then says, “It wouldn’t have been nearly as effective though, now would it?”
“Probably not.”
“So do I get a gold star for holding all my words in?”
“Sure. I’ll even take you for breakfast.”
She’s shaking her head rapidly then pins me with those green eyes that are so damn intriguing. “I don’t want breakfast. I had pancakes and bacon this morning with Uncle Kyle.” Called it. “And now I’m hungry for ice cream. You promised. Don’t be a liar, Jack. No one likes a liar.”
“Fine. You relentless goober.”
She shimmies a little in her seat, pleased that she’s getting her own way. Of course she is. She demands it, but in the least obnoxious way. Doesn’t even react to me calling her relentless or a goober. Just smiles that smile that shows her teeth and makes her nose crinkle. “Thank you.”
“There’s this great place that you can get almost anything mixed into the ice cream. I’m not sure if it will be open yet, but it’s the best in town.”
“Perfect. They’ll be open.” She nods her head once, resolutely. Like if she wills it into the universe, it will happen.
I lean an elbow against the door, my left hand holding the steering wheel with only two fingers. Relaxed. Casual. That’s how I feel around her. More so than I have in a long time, actually. “How are you so sure?”
“Because why wouldn’t they be?” Why wouldn’t they be indeed. She sounds genuinely confused by my question. As if my suggesting any other possibility than the ice cream shop being open first thing in the morning is blasphemy.
This girl. She’s something else.
It doesn’t take much longer before we’re pulling into the parking lot of The Mixing Stone and see that it is, in fact, open.
She gives me a grin and says, “Told you so.”
“You know most people don’t actually come out and say that. They just think it.”
“I’m not most people.”
She definitely isn’t. But, she’s taken, I remind myself for what feels like the hundredth time. Here visiting only for a short time. And… she’s currently bouncing in her seat with excitement over ice cream. Kid in a candy store… that’s what she looks like.
“Been here before?”
“Uncle Kyle took me once then said we’d never be back again after I embarrassed him by trying to lick the glass. Well, trying to might not be the correct wording there. I couldn’t help it, though. Everything looked so delicious and I’m very serious about my ice cream.”
My jaw drops, mouth open, stomach churns. I wonder if I put the Jeep in reverse right now if she’ll try to jump out while the vehicle is moving or if I can get us out of here first. Damn. I knew she was a bit… zany… but that seems a little extreme.
Her hysterical laughter has me sitting back in my seat and removing my hand from the gear shift. I shoot her a worried glance, wondering if she’s losing her mind. “You all right over there?” I ask, a little amused but nervous, too. She continues laughing, doubling over in her seat and wheezing as she tries to catch her breath.
“Fine. Fine. It wasn’t even that funny. It’s just… you’re so serious and I couldn’t resist. You seem to think I’m this immature little shit that you need to corral or something but I’m not. I just have a lot of energy and enjoy life.”
“I still don’t understand,” I admit.
“I didn’t lick the glass, you dork. I wouldn’t do something like that. I’m not a complete lunatic.”
“Only part lunatic?”
“Yeah. See? You get it! Now, let’s go eat some ice cream.”
Against my better judgement, I follow her as we get out of the Jeep and head toward the door, stupidly excited for the best ice cream in the world. Or, at least three counties.
Sierra stops just inside the door and takes a deep breath. “Okay, that was kind of anti-climactic. It just smells like a building in here. But look! Yum.”
Chuckling, I follow her to the counter and we both order. Her: salted caramel double scoop in a waffle cone with extra caramel sauce and Twix candy bar pieces mixed in. “Whatever you get, I’m trying it, so that’s your one warning. Or maybe I should order for you so I can get my second choice.”
I look at her like she’s out of her mind. “You’re not taking away my choice of ice cream, Sierra.”
She shrugs, watching carefully as the lady behind the counter mixes her ice cream and scoops it into her cone.
“And for
you?” she asks me.
I don’t even look at Sierra when I order. “One scoop of the triple chocolate and one of the peanut butter fudge ripple with brownies and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups mixed in.”
“Oh my gosh I approve! I so so approve.”
“You’re not getting any,” I remind her.
She gives me the side-eye and takes the first lick of her ice cream. “We’ll see.”
“Cone or dish?”
“Waffle cone,” I tell her like she’s crazy. Is there any other option?
Sierra moans next to me and I glance at her just in time to see her eyes roll into the back of her head. “It makes that intense workout this morning worth the calories I’m about to digest. So. Good.”
“Intense workout?” I chide, handing over my card to pay for our ice cream. Sierra is too busy eating to even realize that it was time to pay. Not that I’d have let her pay for her own anyway.
Her eyes light up in agreement. “It was, wasn’t it?” I swear she doesn’t hear sarcasm in any of our conversations.
Chuckling, I take my ice cream and we have a seat. Neither of us speak for a few minutes as we’re devouring the sweet and creamy goodness.
“Hand it over,” Sierra suddenly blurts out, reaching for my ice cream, while holding hers hostage.
“No way. I won’t share if you don’t.”
“You don’t even like the kind I ordered.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“I just do.”
“You mean, you want it all to yourself and mine, too?”
“Exactly. Gimme.” She holds her hand out while continuing to lick her own.
I grin and keep taking large bites of my ice cream. If I’m going to cheat this big on my healthy lifestyle, there’s no way that I’ll give up any. “Nope.”
“You’re rude.”
That makes me laugh. Especially with the way she’s eyeing my cone like she’s genuinely confused as to why I won’t let her have any.
“Fine. What else do you want to do today?”
“I’m entertaining you the rest of the day? I thought we were just getting ice cream.”
“That’s just the start of our Sack Fun Day.”
“Sack?”
She winks as she’s crunching on a bit of her cone. “Sierra and Jack. Get it?”
The Other Guy: A Textdoor Neighbor Romance Page 4
