"Mabes." My shrug was careless.
I had just been blown off. My heart sank. I turned to take a step, intending to finish this ride, then hit the first frozen yogurt stand to cross my path. But would extra fudge and whipped cream do the job?
Things moved in slow motion. Emma began flagging me, and the next thing I knew I felt Indigo's hand on my shoulder. I couldn't move. There I stood like a lamp post, until his fingers tightened and he eased me around to face him.
"Jewel ..." My name was an airy rush. "I doubt we'd be able to hang together out there," he motioned to the wheels spinning past us, "but Bill and I usually stop at Kelly's after riding." Those deeply faceted eyes were vibrant as they caressed my face, slowly, seductively.
Holy shit. He didn't have to speak, or move. Just standing before me – the look on his face, the purse of his lips still molded with my name – was enough to push me over the edge. Grandma, how much more can I take? Did Grandpa have this effect on you? I so wished I could text her.
Indigo was incredibly handsome and totally irresistible ... and he was standing inches away, making my legs weaker than a cup of tea brewed with a used tea bag. Talk, Jewel. For shit sake, you've never been tongue-tied in your life. Answer!
"Race you back." I was breathless.
He grinned. "You're on."
KELLY’S – INDIGO – BILLY ARKANA
It all happened so fast I didn't remember walking away, but I must have looked like a neon flash as I stuck my head into my helmet and lifted my bike.
"We're meeting up with them later." With a racing heart, I told Emma.
"I know." She smiled slyly.
I flipped Indigo a wave as he and Bill merged into the lane of other cyclists, then confronted Em. "You little bitch. What's going on?"
"I'm so psyched." Her cheeks looked like ripe apples.
"Yeah. I can see that. Spill it."
"It's a long story ... let's not waste time now. I'll tell you about it tonight."
"I already get it. He's someone out of your deep, dark past. I just need the why's and how's?"
Her eyes were shooting off crazy sparks. "I knew him ... we ... I ..."
"Oh, Em." Reaching out, I patted the side of her helmet. "It's squashed all over your face. Come on." I squeezed her arm, then threw a leg over the uncomfortable seat. "Let's not let them get too far ahead of us." My words held a double meaning.
We pedaled as hard as we could, but in that mob, there was no way of spotting even a glimpse of them, no less overtake them. Since we had to concentrate on the crowded trail we couldn't chit-chat, which I was dying to do. But we swapped an occasional glance, eyes rolling with anticipation, and a thumbs up now and then.
After a short time we followed the flow into the center of the actual event which took place on paths cordoned off with yellow sawhorses. We looped around a few miles, then headed back down the trail on which we'd arrived. On the lookout the entire time, all I saw was a sea of helmets. No Indigo. No Billy Arkana. And there was no sign of Pete. Of course, a Harley would never slip through the roadblocks ... duh.
But I did happen to notice a stable in the distance, far beyond the post and rail fences, where a dozen horses grazed in a meadow. In the heart of New York City, I felt like I was cycling through a magnificent countryside. I was loving every moment of it ... especially the fact that this ride could be the turning point of my life. My heart was light. I felt there was a purpose, after all.
By the time our wheels rounded the familiar streets of Manhattan, I was exhausted. A drooping flower, I needed refreshment.
"What do you think about quick showers?" I asked Em. I wanted to look ... and smell my best when I met up with Indigo, first impressions lasting and all. "Should we risk it?"
"Absolutely not. I don't want to miss them."
"Don't you think Billy Arkana," I couldn't resist teasing, "will wait for you?"
"I'm not taking any risk of losing him again."
"You're in love. I can't believe it. Just remember, I can't afford the rent on my own. Not yet, anyway."
"Oh, stop it." Her apple cheeks bulged.
Em and I locked our bikes into the rack a few doors down from Kelly's and quickly lost the helmets. We shook out our hair, dabbed our faces with tissues and, helmets cradled, sauntered into the café, cool as two ripe cucumbers ready for peeling.
Still fluffing my flattened locks, I elbowed her. "How do I look?"
"Sexy and overheated. How about me?"
"Hot and sweaty."
"Do I smell?" Em's face twisted with panic.
I sniff-tested the air around us, praying our deodorant had survived the day. "Hmm. Nothing out of the ordinary ... but why didn't I spray on some Strawberries and Champagne this morning?" After evaluating her distress, I reconsidered. "Nah. We're good."
I zeroed in on them first, sitting across from one another at a booth near a back window of the café. The Henley once more covered Indigo's pale blue T-shirt, and his hair was neatly combed.
Conscious of dreaded helmet-head, I swept a few loose strands back into my ponytail, but let the springy tendrils dangle in front of my ears, and didn't touch the baby soft wisps above each temple.
Indigo watched our approach attentively. As we neared, his shoulders lifted with an inhale and I could have sworn he blew out relief. His lips curled slightly, his eyes sending messages. My stomach tightened. By the time Em and I reached the table, both guys were standing like gentlemen, motioning for us to slide into the booth first.
"Hey." I tried to sound breezy.
"Hey." The tone of his voice was rich.
I followed the sweep of his arm and slid onto the padded bench. Indigo settled beside me and spoke to my profile. "So, does this mean you two are buying?" He took my helmet from my lap and reached over me, setting it on the window ledge next to his.
When his arm brushed my boobs, a chill shot down my spine. The side of his chest felt warm: firm but caressable. Was I really with him? The day had brought such surprises, I felt like I was dreaming. A fresh, nautical scent wafted into my nostrils, snapping me into reality.
I made a quarter turn in the direction of his voice. "Sure. A round of water for everyone."
Bill let out a laugh.
"She's not joking," Emma chuckled, looking snuggly beside Bill who stowed her helmet with his.
Indigo pressed his index fingers to his temples. "Don't tell me. You took the scenic route."
"What, did you two get here like five minutes ago? Because the gears on your bikes are still warm." Gears are still warm? I had no idea what I was talking about, but it sounded good.
Indigo laughed. “Oh, a gear-watcher. Thanks for the heads up. I’m really going to have to watch those gears from now on ... make sure they don’t overheat again. I don’t want to break down in the park, or in the middle of Madison Avenue.”
Bill and Emma started cracking up.
A heavyset guy who looked in his fifties approached, giving me a chance to cope with my embarrassment.
"Hey, Indigo." He paused beside us, big hands on hips, his gaze zigzagging the table.
"How are you doing, Mike?" Indigo put out a hand.
"Can't complain. How are the classes coming?"
"I'm doing rotations." Indigo's face lit with a grin.
"Geeze, time flies. Soon to be a licensed MD. Bet your folks are overjoyed. How are they?"
A brief disturbance dimmed Indigo's light. If something had troubled him, he recovered well. "They're great. Just got back from the British Virgin Islands."
"Must be nice." Mike grinned and shook his head. For a moment his eyes looked vacant. "Your dad had the right idea. Too bad I didn't take a similar path. Who are your friends?"
Indigo rested his hand on my shoulder, his touch lighter than in the park. "Jewel, this is Mike Kelly, the owner of this rockin' coffee house." His forearm tensed just long enough to make the introduction, then drifted back to the table top, aligning with his other. For a casual meeting, there w
as a lot of physical contact going on. Imagine a date? I wondered if he was feeling it too.
"Hello, Mike." I was formal but warm. "This is Emma."
"Nice to meet you ladies." Mike smiled. "I'll get a waiter over here." He swung his gaze back to Indigo. "Tell your folks I send my best, and next trip, I'd like an invite." He winked at me, then with a straight back, strode away.
“So he’s close with your family?” I asked.
Indigo’s stare followed Mike until he disappeared behind the counter, then he turned to me. “He and my dad spent eight years together in the Marines. They touch base now and then.”
“Do your parents ever come here?” I wanted to know if I should be looking over my shoulder.
The look on his face was strained. “My parents don’t go many places together.”
“I thought they just got back from the Virgin Islands?”
“It was a business trip. They don't do much for pleasure." A hint of a frown reshaped his beautiful lips.
A waiter appeared, took our order, then in hushed tones, we fell into private conversations.
"What do you do, Jewel?" Indigo asked. "Besides school."
I shifted, bringing the side of my leg onto the seat so I could face him. "I work at AMA."
He did a slight recoil and gaped. "You're in the medical profession?"
I instantly made the connection. Was he pulling a snobatude with me? "Hell no. I work security at Abigail Mitchell Apparel while I finish two classes at Jay. I hope to be part of NYPD soon." My words bounced through the narrow space between us.
His eyes widened further. "Awesome. Can you take care of a few hundred parking tickets?" he teased.
"And then some." His reaction granted me permission to act superior.
"So, how did you come to join the bike-a-thon?" He was so close, I held in my empty stomach breath as much as possible.
Then a horrible thought struck. Guys were hot when they perspired and exuded a pheromone or two. But girls, forget it. A post-sweaty female was like a decaying peach in a fruit bowl gathering gnats. To be avoided at all costs. Deodorant, please keep me dry for more than twelve hours.
What was the cause again? I felt so stupid. But I did remember it was a campaign to raise funds for children. "Umm. Well ... Em ..."
"I learned about it at work," Emma cut in, shooting me her usual, you should pay more attention to me, look.
My eyes thanked her for keeping one ear on my conversation, and for the save. Emma would make a great goalie.
"How do you like working for the State?" Bill and Indigo asked together, in tune as Em and I when we answered for each other.
Emma filled everyone in on her absolutely awesome job and how she was really into it, and her future aspirations to cure the troubled mind of the world in her private practice.
Bill told us he'd graduated pharmaceutical college a few years prior and worked for one of the leading drug companies. He fit the part. I visualized him dressed in a suit, pushing drugs. I almost giggled at the thought.
"What about you?" I asked Indigo, who didn't seem as carefree as he had earlier. "Are you specializing?"
"I am. In pediatric medicine ... possibly research."
"Wow. No wonder your parents are thrilled," I tried not to gush. "That's some accomplishment."
"Yeah, I guess. But it was a given. My dad's a surgeon. I have two uncles who are physicians." His face filled with conviction. "I grew up knowing I'd be a doctor."
I thought of my family with their backbreaking jobs, baking and tending the store all by themselves. Still, my dad made a good living and I had no reason to be envious of the other side. I came from a close, loving background.
But here, I seemed to be odd man out. I tugged up a scowl. The three sitting around the table, chatting away as if they were old friends, all shared a part of the medical profession. Future elitists. I'd be hanging and wisecracking with cops. If I was lucky, that is.
"So, you've recently discovered Kelly's?" Indigo's voice morphed with his mood, which seemed buoyant at that moment.
"Huh?" I tilted my head and squinted, drawing out a guarded, "No," then quipped, "I've been coming here forever." Why did I sound defensive?
"Really? I'm surprised I didn't notice you sooner than ..." He cleared his throat. Busted, he grinned and rolled his eyes.
He'd noticed me before I even knew he existed. My brain immediately jumped on the subject of our first almost meeting. Yes ... dig for info ... Blondie.
"Yeah. Strange I've never seen you. Do you come the same time every morning?" I tilted my head.
"A few minutes before ... sometimes a minute or two after seven. Either way, I have to check in at the hospital by seven-thirty."
"Well you know what they say ..." What does who say? I was winging it ...
Half of his mouth curved, like the first day I saw him, and I almost melted. "What do they say?" He cocked his head.
Our faces were so close, I could have sucked in his breath if I raised my head, which I finally did. His eyes bore into mine; clear gray, glimmering with amusement.
I shrugged my brows, becoming philosophic, "A minute too early ... a minute too late ... either way ... you won't catch the train." Great save. Thank you, Grandma.
"True. Which proves timing is everything." With a curved brow, he smiled and nodded. His elbow rested on the table, thumb and forefinger cupping his chin. "Does that slice of wisdom apply to all modes of public transportation? Now I'll be thinking of you whenever I'm waiting for a cab, or trying to find a seat on the bus."
He looked so calm, so casual, so in control. Why was I feeling like such a Type A?
"Mornings are so busy, faces are a blur I guess. But I know a few people here. Usually see the same grumpy faces every day." I took a breath. "How about you? Know most of the seven a.m. crowd?"
"Nah. I don't have much time to socialize. Not over breakfast, anyway." He winked. "I mean, I know Mike, a couple of the waiters ..." He shrugged.
"Was that your sister the other morning?" How else could I breach the subject of Blondie?
His face went blank, his brows forming the elevens I staved off with glycolic facials, and by avoiding expressions like the one that claimed his face after I asked the question.
"The other morning when we were in line together. I was getting sugar ... you mentioned mocha latte ..." Come on, Jewel. You can do better than that. "The tall girl with the long blonde hair ..."
His elevens deepened. Then his face took the same troubled shape as the day the bitch wedged her body between us.
"You're talking about Vanessa."
"I don't know her name ... well I didn't ..."
"Vanessa's far from my sister." Rolling his eyes, he chuckled.
Go on ... my stare, and my silence, both shouted.
His eyes searched my face, which I knew looked grim. "Vanessa and I go way back. We were next door neighbors ... kind of close growing up. You know, kid stuff and all."
"Yeah. I have siblings ... and childhood friends ..."
"Vanessa was a tomboy, always trying to fit in with the boys."
"Or between," I couldn't stop the crude remark.
He looked surprised, then apologetic. "She's got a way about her."
"She sure does. Almost took the tips of my toes off." I faked a laugh that was way too stiff.
"In her defense, she's been through a lot." His tone mimicked mine. "I'm sure she didn't realize."
I'm sure she did, my brain echoed, but go on, my gaze said.
"Her parents passed away when she was fourteen, and she was shipped off to the Midwest to live with an aunt and uncle. Her world was torn apart."
He was defending her rude behavior ... what ... ten years later? Were her childhood claws still embedded? Was he hooked?
"She managed to pull her life together though," he continued, almost admiringly, "moved back a couple of years ago and seems to be doing well."
"That's nice." I so didn't mean my polite words. "Are you st
ill close?" Stop now, before you stick your foot in your big mouth.
He drew a deep breath, like the world was so weighty, and breathing would ease the cause of the strained look on his face. Sadness? Whatever it was, it seemed like an almost constant shadow, which saddened me.
"She's closer with my mother. I don't see her often. Just when she stops by the house."
Great. Vanessa and Mrs. Ballou were tight. Vanessa obviously still had a deep-seeded interest in Indigo, and Mother was no doubt her cheerleader. Better to let the subject drop, like my face.
I watched the waiter emerge from the kitchen, a tray on his shoulder bearing our burgers, chicken fajitas, fries and drinks. The food smelled delish and I was starving. I had to remind myself to smile – and take small bites.
Indigo broke the silence when he let out a laugh. He dabbed his lips with a paper napkin. "Ah, the pleasant sounds of munching." He trailed a fry across a splatter of ketchup on his plate, then popped it into his mouth. "Somebody say something, please. All I hear is Arkana over there, gobbling his burger." He flipped another fry across the table. It bounced off Bill's arm.
Sealing my lips with a napkin, I giggled. "Be careful of what you ask for." I drew a sip of iced tea through my straw. "We'll be spitting food all over each other if we forget our table manners. Emma knows what I'm talking about."
A hand flew to Emma's mouth, subduing a bite of chicken. She nodded in double-time. "Umm," was all she could mumble. I knew she was visualizing the food fights in our kitchen whenever Pete was around.
Bill snorted. "I'll be sure to talk with my mouth full next time I'm having dinner at your house, Ballou. I'm sure your mother would appreciate that."
Indigo frowned. "You wouldn't be the first of my friends she tossed out of the house."
Not Vanessa, that was for sure. Oh, God. What was Indigo's mother like? The thought of the mother challenge had never occurred to me until that moment. At the concept of a future meeting, my fries began attacking my fajita ... inside my tum. With Vanessa up her butt, dear Lord, for sure his mother would look down her nose at me. On the flip side, I wondered if she was one of those: no woman is good enough for my son, mothers. Sort of like my dad was with anyone I dated, but in that antagonistic way in which dads were so proficient; frightening the hell out of a date without uttering a word.
Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance) Page 6
