by Dixon,Jules
Just rolling over slowly, the pounding in my head indicated it had been a one-too-many kind of night. I glanced to the clock … 4:44 a.m.?
WTF! I was asleep for only two and a half hours! Seriously!
Wasn’t like I had much to do today, but sleeping in was the one luxury I wanted to enjoy. Unless I woke up with someone in the bed with me, then I would have re-enjoyed that luxury. I guess getting up at four thirty was routine and my body clock had adjusted. Not one to waste a day, I tagged my phone from my nightstand and headed to the kitchen to make my hangover cure—fried egg on toasted white bread with a smear of tangy white sandwich spread, paired with a cup of delicious, steaming-hot coffee.
Willow’s door was closed, and I could hear soft snores coming from her room. I didn’t blame her for staying in bed, but I imagined she had to work sometime today.
No, wait. Jace dropped me off. Right? Maybe she stayed here?
I walked back down the hall and knocked lightly on Willow’s bedroom door. No answer. I cracked the door and what met my eyes wasn’t bad at all.
Awkward? Maybe. Unpleasant? Definitely not.
On top of her dark blue comforter was a rippling-with-muscle male lying stomach-down, his amazing ass shining to meet the morning sun. I gaped at the tattoo of a griffin winding its way across his back, its tail trailing his leg and between his thighs. Willow’s soft hair draped over his neck as her head lay on his bicep. Her lithe body snuggled into him.
I stared for a few seconds. The fact that she allowed Bachelor Number One to sleep here was interesting. That rarely happened. Actually, that had never happened, not even with Mitch.
I backed out of the room and closed the door. A jealousy spasm clutched at my chest. To stop the intense feeling from engulfing my entire psyche, I repeated over and over to myself that there was someone out there for me.
I also reminded myself that guys were like spreads for toast. Not everyone likes grape jelly. Maybe they should taste orange marmalade. Don’t like the bits of rind? Try strawberry jam. Can’t stand the seeds? Give peach preserves a sample. Me? I wanted to try lots of flavors and have a taste of each.
Halting just inside the living room, I shook my head at the obscure thoughts. They sounded explicit and suggestive even in my brain. My point was that there is a flavor of guy for every girl’s palate.
Still sounds sexual. Maybe I am just sexually frustrated and my fuzzy-lack-of-sleep-head is in the gutter.
I fried my egg and filled my coffee mug in an attempt to change my brain chemistry. I took a couple of pain relievers to end the pounding behind my eyes. Sitting at the kitchen table, I enjoyed my breakfast and perused a smut magazine.
Who cares what twenty-two-year-old JLo is screwing today? And no, I don’t care who has the most cottage-cheese ass of all the female celebrities.
I didn’t know why Willow bought this horrible, woman-bashing, celebrity-stabbing crap. Oooh, a crossword … the only good thing in this colorful pressed dead tree.
It was well over an hour before Bachelor Number One made his way out to the living room, dressed.
Is it a walk of shame if it’s a guy? I doubt it. Maybe a walk of “I got game?”
“Good morning,” I offered as he neared the kitchen.
His body froze as he mumbled an expletive in surprise. He walked into the kitchen and snatched a coffee cup from the hooks under the cabinet and filled it with black sunshine. After taking a long sip, he finally returned my greeting. “Good morning.”
Way to make yourself at home, Bachelor Number One. Maybe ask first before drinking my java?
He sat at the table across from me. “We didn’t get a chance to meet last night. I’m Kanyon Hills.”
“Presley Bradenhurst.” I shook his offered hand.
“Nice to meet you, Presley. So Jude’s your personal trainer at Triple R?”
“He was.” I let the words slip before I thought about the finality of the statement. My chest constricted and I inhaled a tight breath.
Kanyon eyed me up. “I’m pretty sure he thinks he still is.”
I looked away and sipped my coffee. “Probably, but I’m going to go with Blake’s advice and change to Jamal or Kai.”
“Not that it’s any of my business, but is there a valid reason?”
Valid? Not sure you know me well enough to judge my reasons, Bachelor.
“You’re right,” I snapped. “It’s not your business.” I cringed at my bitchiness. I wasn’t Emerson.
Kanyon sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“I’m sorry, Kanyon. It’s the hangover talking. I promise, I’m not usually a bitch.”
He beamed at my apology, and I melted into gushy protoplasm at a smile that was probably a dentist’s wet dream.
“No apology necessary.” Kanyon’s attitude changed as he leaned forward. “Presley, Jude likes you and I can read women—it’s something weird in my DNA. You are really into him. You two need to get on the same page before one of you does something to prove you don’t like each other and what could be is over before it even begins.”
Jude likes me? And that smile is deceptive.
I felt verbally assaulted, but Kanyon was right. His ability to read women was borderline eerie. I had issues with sabotaging myself.
Kanyon continued. “Yes, Jude is interested and probably disappointed with how last night went. Not that he wanted to get horizontal, but…” He raised his voice, “Hell! Who am I kidding? What man wouldn’t? You’re beautiful, Presley.”
I blushed and stared into my coffee cup.
Kanyon continued. “But Jude’s a gentleman. He’ll wait and get to know you first before making his way to the bedroom with you. And there is nothing going on with Emerson. He has to be friends to encourage the obnoxious monster to send him business at Triple R. At least that’s what he thinks. I suspect he’s good at what he does and word would get around either way. He’ll learn he doesn’t have to rely on that bat-shit crazy woman for his meal ticket. I’m not sure he’ll be excited to hear you aren’t going to be his ... client.”
His emphasis of the last word sliced into me. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
Kanyon swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Then give him a chance, both professionally and privately.”
Willow rounded the corner. When she saw Kanyon sitting at the table, she floated across the room in her hot pink short nightgown, and her sapphire eyes softened. Happiness I’d never seen glowed across her face as she approached. He looked her up and down, and his smug face told me everything.
“Good morning.” She grabbed a mug and filled it, adding her traditional two packets of the pink substitute and a splash of creamer.
“Good morning, Gorgeous,” Kanyon returned like he’d said it every morning for years. He finished his coffee. “Willow, I have to get going. Have to be to work at eight. Would you like to get together for dinner after you get off work?”
God, I liked this guy, he was no-nonsense. Confident but not jerk arrogant. Something about him said, “You can fuck off if you don’t like me!” He might be a perfect fit for similar Willow’s attitude.
“Sure. I close at four p.m. I’ll need to shower. Six?”
Standing from the table, Kanyon took what would be four steps for an average-height person in two long strides to the sink, then rinsed and placed the used mug in the dishwasher.
He cleans up after himself? That’s refreshing.
He approached Willow, pinned her against the counter, and lifted her arm, placing a soft kiss where her bandage was. He whispered something in her ear that had her squirming against him.
“Six thirty. I’ll pick you up. Dress warmly, it won’t be my truck.”
“You own a horse?” Willow asked on a laugh.
I chuckled to myself.
Kanyon wrapped his long arms around her, sliding a hand to the base of her neck. It was like I was watching a romantic movie right in front of me. But this was better. It was real life.
“
Of sorts.” His playful grin was cute, like take-him-back-to-bed cute. He laid a long kiss on Willow. Before it ended, I questioned if I should leave the room (or the house) so they could make use of the kitchen table or sofa or floor or counter. The kiss was blistering-coffee hot.
When he came up for air he kissed her nose and backed away. “Okay. Have a good day, ladies.”
“Bye,” Willow returned on a soft gasp.
“It was nice to meet you, Kanyon,” I added.
He stepped backward to the front door. “You have Jude’s number?”
“Yes.”
“Use it.” He opened the door and before I could tell him he sure was bossy, he was gone.
Willow took a seat at the table. “What was all that about?”
“What did you think of Jude?”
“It shouldn’t matter what I think.”
“Don’t pull that bullshit, Willow.”
The hangover was talking for me, but after eighteen years of friendship she should know better. I trusted her opinion, and more importantly, I valued it almost more than my own. Probably more than my own.
I leaned my face into my palm, waiting.
“Okay. Honestly, I really liked him and I thought you really, really like or liked him, too. Right?”
What I did or didn’t think was melded into a pot of self-doubt, slight trepidation over my behavior—that I can’t remember most of—last night, and my ever-present need for a friendly voice of reason. I’ll go with a large helping of self-doubt first.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Maybe it was just the endorphins from exercising causing a hormone overload that led to an attraction. People fall for their hot trainers all the time. Remember Vivian? Her and Ramsay? That was a huge mistake. It ended with Viv almost destroyed. I never felt anything with Mitch, but that’s probably because I was so—”
“Don’t say it!” Willow snapped. “You were not whatever self-critical and unbecoming word you were going to put after that ‘so’. Just don’t say it, Bradenhurst.”
“Geez, what crawled up your ass?” My face contorted in disgust.
“You do this every time, Prez. A nice, good guy shows interest and you make an excuse why it couldn’t possibly be that he actually likes you and wants to get to know you. It’s that he wants the discount you can get on cars. It’s that he’s looking to slum it for a while. It’s that he’s falling on the grenade when we’re together. Or it’s that you have endorphin or hormone issues!” Willow stood and stomped from the room, throwing words over her shoulder. “You are not a discount, a slum, a grenade, or a slave to endorphins!”
I got up and tracked on her heels down the hall. “You don’t know how it feels to have to wonder what ulterior motives someone has because that’s all you’ve experienced in the past. You’ve always been beautiful!”
She turned in front of the bathroom. “And you’ve always been beautiful, too. Not everyone has bad intentions. Truthfully, I was embarrassed at how you treated Jude last night. Your bitchy attitude was just a step above that of Emerson’s normal attitude, and if I were Jude, I’d consider it a sign of what your truer color is, even if it isn’t the truth.”
I reeled back from her and my butt hit the wall on the other side of the hallway. I collapsed against it. Being compared to Emerson was the slap I needed to take me out of my self-loathing and into the present. Tears filled my eyes.
“I didn’t know what to do last night. He was trying to explain about Emerson and from what I can remember, I think he was trying to tell me he was interested. But before he could say anything I’d already decided I wasn’t good enough for him.” The tears started to fall, and my body crumbled forward.
Willow came closer and wrapped her arms around me. “Sweetie, there’s a way to make it right. Two words, ‘I’m’ and ‘sorry’, and if he doesn’t accept your apology or decides you’re not worth the little bit of extra effort, then he’s not worth any effort. Make the call. Don’t text it. He’s a guy, so hearing your voice will mean more.”
“I don’t know if I can. ‘I’m sorry’ seems like it isn’t enough.” I sobbed into her shoulder. “Willow, why can’t I trust a guy or believe in myself?”
She leaned back, then slid my hair around my shoulders and down my back. “Presley, if I knew that I’d be your therapist and not your friend, you would owe me a lot more than forty dollars.”
I half-heartedly chuckled. “I only owe you twenty dollars.”
“Maybe it’s time to stop running from your feelings. Time to listen to your gut and your heart? What are they telling you?”
“I’ll try to figure it out.” I hiccupped a sniffle. “I like him and I’m tired of being afraid to have something real with a guy. I’m going to go for a bike ride to clear my head.”
“Okay, I have to get to work. I’ll see you after I get off?”
“Yes, and Willow, Kanyon—that’s a good-looking guy and he was pleasant to talk with this morning. Of course Kanyon didn’t compare me to Emerson, which by the way was both the worst and best thing you’ve ever said to me, like being hit with icy water.”
“I wasn’t trying to be mean. I was being truthful. I like Kanyon, a lot. And damn, let’s just say I don’t think I’ve ever been Depp’d and multiple times, like he did.” She smirked. “Kind of glad I knew you were passed out so you wouldn’t hear us.”
“Ewwww! All right, you should get to work before you have to fire yourself.”
And you’re making me jealous again.
By the time she’d finished her shower, I was dressed in my biking gear and headed out the door. I rode the trail around Zorinsky Lake slowly. Biking and a hangover didn’t seem like the best combo after I was on the bike. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I waited until there was a safe place to hop off and take a short break. I lay on the soft dewy grass. The blazing sun reminded me of my lingering headache. I shaded my face with my bike helmet.
Jace: How are you this AM? I have your car, in one piece. I’ll be over around 11, if that works.
Prez: I’m good. On bike ride, 11 is fine. I’ll drive you back to Upstream to get your car.
Jace: I walked to Upstream and brought it home this morning. See you soon.
Let’s see what Jude is doing…
I shaded my eyes from the sun to pull up his number. My pulse quickened, and I closed my eyes to make a concentrated effort to keep from hyperventilating.
The line clicked over to voice mail, Jude’s calming deep voice greeting my ears. I cleared my throat while his sexy voice kept rattling around in my head.
“Um … yeah, hi, Jude. This is Presley, but you probably already knew that from Caller ID. I want to apologize for how I acted last night. I’m sorry. I was short with you and I regret a lot of my behavior, probably some that I can’t even remember. Anyway, have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday. Bye.”
That wasn’t horrible. Not sure it was enough, but I’d wait to find out.
My phone rang in my hand. Rahl? Who is…?
Reality slapped me. What a total freaking bitch I was last night! Jude had watched me flirt shamelessly with another guy. How immature! Rahl was nice—and nice to look at—but there were no warm fuzzies—or scorching heat—like with Jude.
Why is being an adult so complicated?
It was better to get the conversation over with, so I answered. “Hello, Rahl.”
“Good morning, Presley. Didn’t know if you’d be among the living today.”
I groaned. “Yeah, I was feeling pretty good last night. My hangover cure did its job and I’m out for a bike ride, just taking a break to enjoy the beautiful morning.”
“McDonald’s?” he asked, trying to learn my hangover cure, which was sweet but kind of creepy, too.
Is he sweet or is he creepy?
“Homemade fried egg sandwich and java.”
“That probably did the trick. Glad you’re feeling okay. Say, I’d like to take you out this week. You interested?”
Definite
ly sweet.
Now, this was my dilemma … Rahl was a nice guy and definitely not bad to look at—dishwater blond hair, muscular build, soft brown eyes. And he came right out and told me he was interested in me. Not that I remembered exactly what he said due to my inebriated state, but I vaguely recalled something about watching me dance and liking my moves. He was sweet in a pound-his-chest-and-grunt, “me-man, you-woman,” kind of way.
Jude was a nice guy and awesome to look at everywhere. I’d learned he was interested, although it was still hard to believe he could actually be interested in me. If Jude asked me out, I could possibly have two dates. That was so not like me.
I pounded my head with my helmet as if that would help make my decision easier. It only brought back my hangover headache.
I sat up straight and released the words in a flurry. “Okay. I’ll meet you for drinks. After work on Tuesday, say, six p.m.?”
Even if Rahl wasn’t the one who would curl my toes, I wanted to make friends and it was good for me to get outside of my comfort zone when it came to men. Just talking with one was a stretch. Agreeing to meet for a drink was like a hop, skip, and gallop all in one.
“Sounds good. Brix?”
“Great.” I smiled and fell back to the grass.
“Have a good rest of your weekend. See you then, Presley.”
“You, too. See you later, Rahl.”
After disconnecting the call, something that wasn’t quite regret but felt adjacent to regret hit me. My heartbeat revved like someone had stepped on my accelerator while my clutch was depressed. My blood roared like oil through my veins, and my stomach clenched like an engine sputtering to respond while reality spun out through my brain.
I didn’t know if Jude and Rahl were friends, but they worked together. Would they talk? Do guys do that? Do they care who goes out with who and when?
In actuality, I hoped that Jude did care.
When I returned from the bike ride, I found a little morning energy, and after showering and making myself relatively presentable, I tackled my normal weekend routine. Willow was an incredible classically trained chef. But I was better at cleaning, and she hated domestic warrior duties. So we made a pact. She cooked something delicious, but relatively healthy, at least twice a week, and I cleaned once a week. Not sure what we’d do if either of us moved out. I imagined I might die from boxed-meal nutritional deficiency, and she’d be a six-inch-path-to-the-bathroom hoarding slob.