Exposed: New Adult Sport Romance (The Boys of Winter Book 5)

by Violet Vaughn

  Metal clangs as I sort through the tools to bring him an L-shaped ruler and a long straight one. When I walk back he takes them from me and plucks the pencil out of my hair.

  “Hey!” Curls tumble around my shoulders and halfway down my back. “I had that up for a reason.”

  Neal taps my nose with the eraser end. “I’ll give it back.” His gaze lingers on me, and my insides tingle when his voice gets soft. “You’re beautiful with your hair down. You should wear it that way more often.”

  I open my mouth to complain about how difficult my locks are, but Neal shakes his head and puts his finger on my lips. “Don’t. Blush or say thank you, but don’t tell me it’s not gorgeous. Because it is.”

  The heat of his touch makes my lips throb a little with desire. I whisper, “Thank you.”

  He gives me a satisfied smirk and turns to the wall. The pencil scrapes as he draws lines, and I pull myself together. I’m not sure if he was flirting, but my crush is increasing by the second.

  Once an outline of the large opening we’ll create is made, Neal comes back to me holding the pencil out. I take it and put it in my mouth as I gather and twist my hair up in a bun. He watches, and when I’m done he moves in close and twists a loose strand around his finger. It makes me gasp a little in surprise, and I think of Trevor. I think it’s safe to say Neal’s flirting now.

  “Do you know why I love your hair so much?”

  I shake my head because I’m not sure I trust my voice not to come out as a squeak.

  “Because it suits you. It’s free and acts as if it doesn’t care about what anyone thinks. But it’s also soft and moves with a grace that’s mesmerizing, just like you.”

  Heat rises to my cheeks, and I’m afraid Neal can see me trembling with the urge to press my body against his and kiss him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Neal walks over to the toolbox and rummages around for a bit before bringing me a box cutter in bright green that matches his. “Score the lines I drew.”

  When we finish, Neal lifts the hammer and hands it to me. “Take the first swing.”

  “Wait, won’t we be crashing into Rhinestone Cowgirl?” I imagine the sound that will carry into Nika’s shop and know she’ll probably jump.

  “Yes, but I already marked it off on that side and tented the area last night.”

  Using all my strength I hit the wall, and the hammer head penetrates the drywall with a satisfying crunch. I squeal. “That’s fun.”

  Neal chortles and then says, “Hit it a couple more times in different spots. We’ll yank the pieces off.”

  I do, and after a few more swings my arms are getting tired. I set the hammer down with a thud and join Neal as he rips away sections. It’s hard work, and I’m sweating after a few minutes.

  A framework of wood is revealed, and I ask, “How do we cut that out?”

  “I have guys coming in to do that part tomorrow. I thought I’d do some of the work I could do first.”

  “Cool. Thanks for letting me help.”

  I slap plaster dust off my thighs and notice Neal has some on his face. I lick my lips in indecision before stepping toward him. He’s a lot taller than my five feet, four inches, and I lift up on my tiptoes to wipe a finger across his cheek. “You’ve got drywall on your face.”

  He captures my wrist with his hand, and his other fingers skim my hip before he grips me firmly. Desire shoots through me and I throw caution to the wind as I tip my face to him in anticipation of a kiss. But his grasp loosens and he steps back while dropping my arm. “Thanks.”

  My ears burn in shame because I just made a fool of myself. He doesn’t want to kiss me, and I practically threw myself at him. What was I thinking? I’m saved by Christian’s face popping through an opening in the clear plastic tent.

  “Hey, could you be any louder?” Christian sees me and asks, “Ruby, were you the one making all that noise?”

  I force a grin, and something witty comes to me. “Yup, bet you didn’t know I was handy with a hammer.”

  He walks in to stand near us and survey the work. “Can’t say I did. This is going to open things up nicely.” Christian turns to me. “You must be excited.”

  “I am. Nothing like a little manual labor to get the blood pumping.” Of course my blood is pumping for a different reason. I stop a frown that wants to happen when I remember that I’m going to have to control that kind of rush, particularly now that I know where I stand. When it comes to men, I keep proving I don’t have a clue.

  Chapter 12

  Every night for the past week I’ve dreamt about Trevor. Something awful happens to him in every dream, and I can’t shake my worry. Remembering what he said about not changing his number, I find him in my contacts. I never deleted him, even though my phone has changed a couple times.

  I hope he still has the same number as my fingernails click, tapping out a message, and I put myself out on a limb, trying to keep the promise I made to share my feelings.

  “Hey, it’s Ruby. I’ve been thinking about you. Hope you’re ok.”

  I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and survey the main floor of my apartment. It’s been taken over by garment production. I have my three sewing machines set up, a large folding table for cutting, and an ironing board in the corner. Three dress forms have various states of clothing on them.

  I sip my lukewarm tea and smile at the number of items completed and hanging on the rolling racks. I’m ahead of schedule, and except for the vintage silks that haven’t arrived, things are going more smoothly than I had anticipated.

  A car door slams, and I get up to let in a tall, broad guy with light-brown hair. I’m not surprised.

  “Hey, boss.”

  I grin at his greeting. “Garret, I knew it would be you. Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?”

  He makes a show of checking an imaginary watch. “Not in the last twelve hours.”

  Garret’s turned out to be my best employee. Not only is his stitching impeccable, but also he’ll work as many hours as I’ll let him. Last night I finally kicked him out so I could go to bed.

  He brushes by me to put his lunch in the fridge and says, “I start snow training next week. Is it okay if I work as much as possible until then?”

  “Of course. But it’s fine if you want to take some time off.”

  “No, I’d rather not. I really need the money, and this is so much better than washing dishes, you know?”

  I chuckle as he stakes his claim on the sewing machine he likes best. “I bet Neal is going to regret sending you to me.”

  He grins. “He’ll survive. Any old grub can do that job. But not every guy has magic fingers like mine.” He wiggles his digits as he revs the sewing machine by stepping on the foot pedal.

  I shake my head and go over to mine to get back to the skirt I started earlier. I let myself get lost in the whirl of my needle bobbing up and down. When Lisa and Elaina arrive later in the morning I take a much-needed break from my machine to let them sew.

  I’m meeting with Neal at the shop to see how things are going. Overcast skies match my energy level as I drive to town. Whenever I wake from a bad dream I go sew to process my feelings, and the lack of sleep is making me tired, even if my inventory is swelling because of it. Telling Trevor the truth seems to have opened up old wounds instead of offering me the closure I needed.

  The embarrassment of thinking Neal was going to kiss me keeps replaying in my mind. The stupid thing is, he’s probably forgotten the moment, while I can’t let it go. But years of shaming myself are a hard habit to break. My phone dings with a text, and I glance to check who it’s from.

  It’s Trevor, and when I stop at the red light, I open it to read his words.

  “I’m great. Can I see you?”

  Great? Relief washes over me that my worry is all in my head. I perk up over the idea of seeing Trevor again, especially since he sounds happy. I type back.

  “Love to. When are y
ou free?”

  A horn blares, and I look up to find the light is green. I glance at the huge truck on my tail. “Keep your pants on.” My phone clatters in the cup holder as I step on the gas. I don’t have spare time to hang out with an old boyfriend, but I can’t help myself. I really want to see him.

  I resist the urge to pick up my phone when it dings again. I manage to hold off until I pull into my new parking spot, which happens to be next to Neal’s, on the opposite side of the Rhinestone Cowgirl spaces.

  I pick up my phone, and Trevor’s text says, “Now?”

  I really should get back to sewing after I meet with Neal, but the desire to see Trevor is too great. I text back, ”1PM at the Baked Bean?”

  “OK”

  “:)”

  My pulse quickens in excitement. But I talk myself down as I make my way to my shop. I mean, Ruby Raines. Neal keeps reminding me to call my store by name, but it feels strange to say it, as if I’m someone important.

  There’s moisture in the air, signaling an approaching storm, and my hair does its Afro impersonation by the time I get through the courtyard. I almost enter the side door to Rhinestone Cowgirl out of habit. While I can easily cut through, I’d probably get distracted, giving me less time with Neal before leaving to see Trevor.

  Pulling open the new wooden door that is similar to Rhinestone Cowgirl’s, I enter to the humming of a saw. Jason, Casey’s boyfriend, is cutting wood, and I guess it’s for the counter top that will look as if it’s set in a fairy cottage. My space is going to be designed to look like a woodland fantasy but not so over the top that it doesn’t work with the western feel next door.

  Neal is talking to Joel, the other carpenter, when he glances my way and nods to indicate he’s seen me. Joel turns and gives me a wave that I return. I wander over to where Jason is working and run my hand along the smooth wood that looks to be carved from a tree instead of machine cut. The ceiling is already adorned with twig-like light fixtures that let light peek through and create shadows that mimic dark branches winding around each other.

  I pick up a rug sample. My new carpet will be one of the last things we install. Jason suggested we do it in mossy green to add the forest atmosphere. I scan the shop and smile. Things are coming together, and I can’t believe I’ll be open in three weeks.

  Neal approaches. “It looks great, doesn’t it?”

  “It really does.”

  “Ready for numbers?”

  I groan. “Teach me, oh wise one.”

  Neal winks at me. “With pleasure.”

  His voice is low, and my insides twinge in response as he leads me out of the shop. It’s just a couple doors down from his office located between his restaurant, Down Under, and the Fish Bowl, he doesn’t wear a coat and I don’t bother to zip mine.

  Opening the door to his office lets heat blast out to us. When we get inside I notice the pipes along the ceiling, and I imagine the stuffy feel of this room mid-winter.

  Having had enough of my hair, I wind it into a tight twist and roll it into a ball on top of my head. I’m about to pull a hair elastic from my pocket when Neal says, “Let me.”

  He takes a pencil from his cup and sticks it in the bun. I catch a whiff of his spicy scent. It’s faint, and I wonder if it’s his soap because it’s never strong, no matter how freshly showered he is.

  Neal lingers in my space and twists a loose strand of my hair around his finger, confusing the heck out of me. “Tough day for curls?”

  I nod and wish his finger would stroke my skin too. The space around us suddenly seems small, and my breathing quickens. Neal’s hand skims along my cheek as he moves it away. Clearing his throat, he says, “Numbers. Let’s talk.”

  I sit in my chair, and the metal thuds under my bottom. While I’m not an idiot, math is my least favorite subject. Just looking at the spreadsheet on Neal’s laptop makes me sweat and brings up memories of my trying to comprehend pre-calculus.

  Despite the intoxicating presence of Neal next to me, he manages to break things down and spoon-feed me the economics of how we’ll run things to make a profit. I grin at him because I understand the way things are set up so we’ll make money our first year. “You are making my day right now. I can’t believe how simple you make this look. Where were you when I needed a math tutor?”

  I’ve placed my hand on his arm, and he covers it with his fingers. He gives me a little squeeze when he says, “Considering that wasn’t very long ago, I’d say right here.”

  His comment about my age makes me wonder how old he is. “How long ago did you graduate from college?”

  “My ten-year reunion is next spring. I’m old.” He flips my hand over and his thumb rubs against my palm, sending small shock waves of pleasure straight to my core.

  I do a quick calculation, putting him at thirty-two, and realize he’s closer to my mother’s age than mine. That should be creepy, but somehow it’s not. “You’re not old, just wise.”

  Neal’s voice deepens in tone, and he moves in close enough that I detect the faint odor of coffee and mint on his breath. “I’m not sure how wise I am.”

  I lick my lips, trying to tamp down the desire to kiss him, because surely he’s teasing me again. But he’s not, and his mouth lands softly on mine. His lips nip and threaten to devour me.

  Instead he pulls away slowly, and says, “Not smart at all.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want to ruin our business relationship, Ruby. I’m sorry.”

  Don’t be! “It’s okay.” Hell, it’s more than okay with me.

  Neal’s brow is furrowed, and he shakes his head. I’ve done it again. I’ve made a fool of myself, and my face burns with embarrassment. Suddenly I think of Trevor and pull my phone from my back pocket to check the time. It’s one fifteen. “Crap! I’ve got to go.”

  I grab my coat and bag and race out the door. Jogging up the steps, I realize I didn’t say good-bye and turn to yell, “Thanks!”

  Chapter 13

  The Baked Bean is a coffee shop and deli. With hearty soups and stews, sandwiches, baked goods, bagels, coffee, and tea, it’s a local favorite. I run the two blocks to get there and am out of breath when I arrive. I push through the door and frantically search for Trevor.

  Sweat trickles down my back when I spot him at a table. He waves, and I walk over as my heart rate returns to normal. Sniffing, I watch his amused gaze scan me quickly. “Good to see you still operate on Ruby time.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe right now, but I’m much better these days.” He’s wearing a dark red fleece over a tight tee. My eyes get stuck a moment on Trevor’s defined chest. He certainly did fill out and in a good way.

  “It’s okay; I only got here a few minutes ago.” He’s smiling, and any concerns lingering from my dreams wash away. I smirk and say, “I’m going to go get coffee and cake. Want anything?”

  He glances down at his bagel and coffee. “I’m good.”

  I’ve been coming here for years and can’t imagine not having their German chocolate cake when it’s available. The moment I spot it I want to squeal. I opt for regular coffee to hurry my order along and am back with Trevor in minutes.

  Metal silverware clatters on my plate, and my mug thumps down. Before I manage to sit Trevor has swiped my fork and breaks off a chunk of cake.

  “Hey!”

  He shoves it in his mouth, and his eyes twinkle at my reaction.

  I say, “You’re mean.”

  He chuckles and hands me the utensil. I look at it as if I can see germs, and he says, “You’re not seriously thinking about another fork, are you? Because you’ve had more than my spit in your mouth.”

  My eyes widen as my jaw drops. “You didn’t just say that!” My face is flaming with heat.

  He leans forward and says, “You’re still so easy to tease. I can’t believe some guy hasn’t taunted the embarrassment out of you.”

  I find my inner sass and cross my arms as I sit back. “I do need
a new fork. I don’t want to think of the places your mouth has been.”

  Trevor laughs and gets up to get me clean silverware. When he returns he winks at me. “You’re still adorable when you’re flustered. I’m glad I haven’t lost my touch.”

  I recall the numerous ways he would torture me, starting with the first time we met. “Unfortunately it’s the very thing that attracted me to you in the beginning. I know it’s your way of showing you care.”

  He grins. “Oh, yeah? See? You’ve been swapping spit with me from day one.”

  I take a bite of my dessert, and the sugary coconut frosting melts on my tongue. I moved to Sugarloaf, Maine, partway through my sophomore year of high school for ski racing. The first day on the chairlift Trevor told me all the new girls had to kiss one boy as initiation. He convinced me he was the safest choice, and when we got to the top of the lift he proceeded to stick his tongue in my mouth as the whole team watched.

  I swallow and ask. “Does your latest girlfriend find your ways charming?”

  He snorts. “Wow, you cut to the chase. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  I flush because that wasn’t why I asked. Was it?

  He sips on coffee and then asks, “Is there some guy in your life?”

  “No. No boyfriend.” My blush stays because Neal’s kiss flashes through my mind.

  Trevor raises his eyebrows as he crunches on his bagel. And I change the conversation. “Tell me about teaching. Adults or kids?”

  “Adults. But I might get to coach kids in the racing program, and I’m excited about it.”

  “That would be fun. Doing something you love every day is great.” My fork clinks as I dig into the cake.

  “Yeah, how’s the shop coming along?” Trevor pushes his empty plate out of the way and leans back with a coffee mug in his hand.

  “Great. I should open in three weeks and am so excited. You’ll have to come see it.”