That sounds nice.
Too bad, it won’t be mine.
“Look, Grayson Blake is …” I begin, but my voice dissipates into thin air.
I don’t know how to finish that—not without looking like an obsessed, hopeless romantic. And, while I am a hopeless romantic, I am not obsessed with the town mechanic.
I know better.
“He’s fine as hell,” Kaylee offers.
“Good. Use him as your rebound.”
As soon as I say it, I kick myself. I’d be happy for Kaylee. She deserves a guy like Grayson but seeing my friend with him—kissing and touching and all that jazz—would make me green with envy. And green does not look good on me.
“I’m not rebounding,” she says with a laugh. “I have a teenage daughter to think about. What would it look like to her if I started sleeping around?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Like you’re a woman. A human. That you’re enjoying the company of a male while not in a monogamous marriage—which seems like a very practical stance to take considering what her father pulled.”
She rolls her eyes. “I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make sense.”
We stop at the intersection of Wishing Lane and Love Lane … and stare at the front of Blake Brother Auto Repair.
Shit.
I feel Kaylee’s gaze burning into the side of my face as she waits for me to decide whether to cross the road—and head straight for Blake Brother—or take a right and continue down Love Lane.
I take a right.
She follows, smirking at my back. I can feel it.
“He hates me,” I call out over the sound of Tristan’s motorcycle as he passes us.
“Who?” Kaylee asks.
“Grayson.”
She scurries to catch up. “He does not hate you, you silly girl.”
“Eh, yeah. I kind of think he does. At least a little bit.”
“Will you stop it?” She grabs my arm. “And slow the heck down, for crying out loud. I’m chubby. And old.”
“You’re thirty.”
“Thirty-eight,” she says, flashing me a smile of relief when I ease up the pace.
“I figured you couldn’t talk if you couldn’t breathe,” I tease.
She shoves my arm, knocking me into the grassy area beside the sidewalk.
We continue down the street in silence. I’m grateful for it because I need a moment to process.
We pass the police department and then the fire department. Kaylee comments about how our emergency staff doesn’t look anything like the guys on the online calendars and how she thinks they hire models, not real emergency personnel. I nod in agreement, but my brain is a block back.
If Grayson has a thing for me—the mere idea makes me shiver—then why does he seemingly avoid me? Why does he rebuff my attempts at conversation? Why do I catch him looking at Natalia when she’s shaking her ass to the band on Friday nights?
Well, I know the answer to that. She’s gorgeous. But the main idea still stands.
If he was interested in me at all, wouldn’t he have taken me up on my offer last night? Wouldn’t that be the easiest, most handed-to-you-on-a-silver-platter thing that ever happened to someone—if they wanted it?
The answer is yes.
And he said no.
The end.
We stop at the crosswalk.
“What are you going to do today?” Kaylee asks.
“I don’t know. I’m off tonight, so I might try to change the ceiling fan in my bedroom. I’ve been putting it off, but it started getting all lopsided and caterwauling like a deranged tiger last night. I’m afraid it’s going to fling off the ceiling and dice me to shreds one of these days.”
Kaylee cringes. “That sounds … bad.”
“It would be bad. Who would even find me to clean up the mess? I’d probably lie there and rot for a month before anyone noticed I was gone. My parents vacation too much. I’m an only child. And, clearly, I don’t have a man to miss my absence.”
“Not true. I’d notice. Asshole.”
We laugh.
“I’ll be at the pizza shop until ten tonight. But if you want a mother-daughter team to help you with your ceiling fan project, Anna and I can come over after we close.”
“I’m sure your fifteen-year-old daughter would love hanging out with us on a Thursday night.”
“Well, my fifteen-year-old daughter is currently grounded from anything remotely labeled as fun because she decided mid-divorce would be the time to develop a fifteen-year-old mouth.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. Yikes.” She looks across the street at Cherry Pie Pizza—her pride and joy, Anna notwithstanding. “I need to get in there and make some sauce. And, if I’m guessing, no one chopped onions last night, and I’ll have to do that too.”
“Maybe I’ll come in for lunch.”
She smiles. “Do that. I’ve been tinkering with a cherry pie dessert pizza. I’ll make one, and you can be my official tester.”
“Sounds good.”
She throws me a little wave and jogs-ish across the street.
A cool breeze rolls down the street as if it’s ushering me toward Cherry Fall Fitness. I peer down the block and take in the glass-fronted building and contemplate getting a quick workout in since Kaylee kept me at a one mile-per-hour pace.
Just as I decide to head that way, a certain rumble of an engine breaks my concentration. I turn around before I can stop myself.
The roar of Grayson’s engine rumbles through the air, getting him a finger-point by a policeman. He hits the gas—or whatever—again as if to say, “Got it.” It makes me laugh.
I walk backward as he comes my way, feeling my stomach flutter.
His hand lifts off the top of the steering wheel. I lift mine at my side. I think I can see his face through the dark tint, and I think I see him smile.
Then again, maybe it’s my hopes and dreams.
If so, I know what really happened. And I know how this ends.
My hopes and dreams are always shattered. Every possibility is really just a roadblock in disguise.
“Screw it,” I say and turn away from Cherry Fall Fitness and down Hope Avenue.
The irony of the street name is not lost on me.
Four
Grayson
“Hey, Rueben.” I nod to the owner of Cherrywood Lumber and Hardware Store. “Did one of my brothers special order something?”
His fingers clatter over the keyboard in front of him. “I think so. Let me take a look.”
“I ran out for a sandwich and Garret told me to swing by and pick something up. Either he didn’t mention what it was or I didn’t hear him because I don’t know what it is.”
Rueben laughs. “I tune out my brother too. I feel ya.”
I lean against the counter as Bryant Beltran walks in.
“Hey, Grayson,” he says, extending a hand.
I give it a firm shake. “How are ya, Bryant?”
“Good, good. Rosie, my boss, sent me over here to pick up some screws.” He looks at Rueben. “Apparently, we ran out. Rosie said she called you, and you said you could help us until our delivery arrives tomorrow?”
Rueben nods. “Yeah. Happy to help out. Can you wait for a second, Grayson?”
“Sure thing.” I turn back to Bryant. “How’s life out in Rosewood Ranch Lands?”
“I love it out there, man. The fresh air, the hard work. There’s nothing better, really, is there?”
“I suppose not.”
“Hey, since I ran into ya, do you guys do site visits?” He leans against the counter, mirroring me. “We have this tractor out there that I just can’t get running and …”
His voice fades away as the door chimes behind us. I turn my head to follow his gaze.
Fuck. Me.
As if the universe is bound and determined for me to see Haley as many times in one day as humanly possible, she strides into the hardware store. There
’s a slight flutter of uncertainty that sweeps through her gaze. It’s so slight, in fact, that I doubt Bryant notices at all.
But I do.
I notice everything about her.
She covers her feelings well with a bright smile. “Hey, Bryant. Hi, Grayson.”
“Hey,” I say, but my greeting is drowned out by Bryant’s cheerful reply.
“Well, good morning, Miss Morgan.” He stands tall. “How are you this fine day?”
I roll my eyes. Oh, please.
“I’m doing fine, thank you.” She giggles.
She fucking giggles.
At him.
I grit my teeth.
“How are you, Mr. Beltran?” she asks, her tone dripping with sweetness.
“I’m wonderful, thank you for asking.”
Gag me.
Or, gag her and let me shove my—
“How are you, Gray?” The sugariness of her tone is thicker, more like syrup, as she turns her gaze onto me. Her use of the nickname I chastised her for last night—I downright warned her about it—is front and center. “You doing all right today?”
I press my lips together, looking so deep into her eyes that I think I reach her soul.
She grins. “Great then. Glad to hear it.” She tosses me a wink before turning back to Bryant. “Do you know where the screws are?”
“What do you need a screw for?” I ask, butting into their conversation. Because it decidedly feels like their conversation.
“I’m hanging a new ceiling fan, and there are three tiny, baby-sized screws that hold the blades onto the metal bracket things that are missing. I figured Rueben would have them,” she says.
I smirk. “You’re putting a ceiling fan up? By yourself.”
She lifts her chin proudly. “Yes. Well, Kaylee is coming to help me tonight, but I wanted to get a lot of it done so we can attach it to the ceiling and then just drink wine instead.” She smiles. “Look at me, planning ahead like an adult.”
Bryant’s laughter—something I’ve never pegged as annoying until this very moment—rings through the hardware store. “I love a woman with a can-do attitude.”
Tread lightly, motherfucker.
I glare at the side of his face, but he’s oblivious.
“That’s me,” Haley says. “A woman with a can-do attitude.”
“So many women would think they need a man to help them,” Bryant says. “It’s impressive.”
I shove off the counter and stand straight—milking every bit of my six-one frame as I can.
I know where this guy is going with this line of thought. He’s trying to corner her into suggesting she might need a man’s help with something then—bingo! He’s there to step in and save the day.
Haley’s lips part to respond, but I beat her to the punch.
“Do you need a man’s help, Haley?” I raise a brow her way, crossing my arms over my chest.
I’m not sure where I was going with that but—
“Is that an offer, Grayson?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest too.
Not what I expected.
“I can help …” Bryant’s hand raises and then falls slowly to his side.
My eyes lock with Haley’s. It’s a silent war between us as we fire unspoken shots across the store’s hardwood floor, only narrowly missing Bryant in the process.
She’s more aggressive today and sure of herself.
I don’t know why she’s like this, but I fucking love it.
I imagine her pouty little lips wrapped around my cock. Her warm, dainty hands massaging my balls. Her small, perfect tits bouncing as she rides my dick and screams my name, not giving a shit who hears it or who cares.
My body shifts in a failed attempt at relieving some of the ache in my groin.
“Do you think that was an offer?” I ask.
Her confidence slips. Her jaw sets, and she whirls around on her heel and faces Bryant.
He’s bewildered. “Am I … missing something here …?” He motions back and forth between Haley and me.
“Bryant,” she says, her tone sugary once again, “I have a problem, and I was wondering if you could help.”
I clench my fists at my side.
“I …” Bryant takes a step away from me and gulps. “I don’t know. Maybe? If this is about ceiling fans, you know, maybe you should ask someone else—”
“It’s not.” Haley turns her back to me. “It’s about … men.”
You’re kidding me right now.
“Oh.” His eyes dart to mine and then back to her just as quickly. “What about men?”
“I have a couple of situations in my life where some clarity from the male species’ point of view would help. So, I’m looking for a man—an alpha male, preferably—”
“And you’re asking him?” I stare at the back of Haley’s head. “No offense, Bryant.”
Or take offense. I don’t give a shit.
“None taken …”
The sound of Rueben coming back to the counter is like a needle being inserted into a filled balloon. The tension pops.
Bryant’s shoulders sag as he takes a bag from Rueben. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem.” Rueben surveys the three of us. “Let Rosie know she can just pay me back in inventory when your truck comes. Your boss is the sweetest.”
“Don’t I know it. Thanks, Rueben.” Bryant heads for the door. “Take care, everyone.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. The doors chime as he disappears into the afternoon.
I start to feel bad until I remember that if I hadn’t interjected, he’d be in Haley’s house today helping her hang a ceiling fan.
Or worse.
Nah, fuck that guy.
“Grayson, your box is out back. It was just delivered. Can you wait just a second and I’ll grab it? I’m sorry for keeping you waiting like this, but today has been nuts,” Rueben says.
“It’s fine,” I say without looking at him.
I just watch Haley.
She stares right back at me. I can’t tell if she’s confused or annoyed or pissed off, and I don’t know which one of those things I prefer.
Rueben mutters something under his breath and heads into the back. As soon as he’s out of sight, Haley releases a breath.
“Why are you such a dick?” She shakes her head. “Dammit, Grayson. That was rude.”
“That wasn’t rude. That was saving you from having Bryant in your house tonight.”
She arches a brow. “And that would be terrible, why?”
I narrow my gaze.
“You know what? He’s a nice guy. Not that nice guys work out for me, because they don’t, but you know what nice guys do? Anything you give them consent to do.”
My blood turns to gasoline, and her demeanor is the match. My insides burn with a ferocity that I have only felt a few times in my life—and never over a woman.
“You’re a pain in my ass,” I mutter.
Her eyes fly open. “Me? A pain in your ass? Please, explain. I’d love to know how I cause you any grief after that display of … whatever it was between you and … well, just really you. Bryant didn’t even participate.”
“He didn’t participate because he doesn’t have the balls.”
She snorts. “To what? Argue with you? Because the last time I checked, I actually very literally do not have balls, and I’m going toe-to-toe with you right now.”
I run my fingernails over the top of my head and try to calm the hell down.
This is why I don’t interact with her outside of Fireside. This is why I keep my attraction to her quiet. The way I feel about her is so wild, so animalistic, that I’m afraid we’d burn the whole town down if I ever unleashed it.
She sucks in a long, smooth breath. “Why did you do that?”
The thought of Bryant’s hands on you makes me want to do very illegal things.
I don’t give her an answer. I don’t know how to answer her. How do I explain that I’m stuck between a rock an
d a hard place with a very hard cock to boot?
How do I tell her that I’m not interested in the things she wants out of a man. Things like dates, puppies, kids. Those three things make me burst into hives.
I have one-night stands for a reason—primarily to dissuade any of the above from happening. If I touch her, even once, I know hell is going to open and swallow me whole.
She’s too sweet for me. Too innocent. Too pure.
I’m too much of an asshole for her. Too unattached. Too careless.
But I can’t help myself from intervening in situations like Bryant if I know about them. It eats me up knowing she’s with other men, so I choose not to know. I don’t listen. I don’t see. I let myself have doses of her four days a week in a controlled environment, and then I go home and jack off in the shower.
No one knows any different.
It works.
The whole setup is effective.
Until now, I fear.
Either way, there’s a crack in my plan, and I’m going to have to figure out how to stitch it shut. The first move is getting this question-and-answer session over with. Once that’s through, she can’t hold it over my head, and Garret won’t look at me and mouth, “Poor Tristan,” every five minutes at work.
I sigh.
“I’ll tell ya what,” I grumble. “I’ll answer your questions if you help Garret with the marketing shit.”
Her face lights up, but not without a heavy dose of uncertainty. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
I sigh. “Isn’t this what you want?”
Haley considers this. She bites on the pad of her thumb as she watches me with curiosity sparkling in her eyes. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she drops her hand.
“Fine,” she says.
“Fine.”
She looks behind her as the door opens, and an older couple comes in. They smile at us before taking a cart and rounding the corner toward the shovels.
“I’ll be done at the shop around five,” I say. “Want to go hiking with me in the Wild Ridge Mountains? We can talk there.”
“You wanting to push me off the ridge?”
608 Alpha Ave Page 3