“Where are you going?” I ask when she climbs off the elliptical.
“Cardio is done. Time for strength training. Too bad you just started or you could come spot me.”
The look she gives me has me ending the workout before it’s even begun.
“You’re not going to finish?” she asks as I climb down and join her.
“Truthfully, I don’t do much cardio. I try to run a couple of times a week, but I usually focus most of my energy on weights.”
“So then why did you get on there?” She points to the machine behind me.
“Because that’s where you were.”
“Wow. You really brought your A game today.”
“As opposed to my B game?” I joke.
“I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” She shakes her head before she starts to walk away.
“I can think of a few things.” I quicken my stride to catch up to her.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Nope,” I answer honestly.
“Blue?” We both turn in unison at the sound of a man’s voice. I recognize him immediately. It’s the guy she left Putter’s with.
“Bruce. Hey.” She smiles, giving him a tentative hug when he steps in front of her.
“How are you? I haven’t seen you in a few days.”
“I’m good. Busy. You?”
“Yeah, same.” He shuffles from one foot to the other, his gaze sliding to me before darting back to Blue, an awkward silence settling between the three of us.
“Well, we should probably get back to it.” I turn my attention to Blue, my hand moving to the small of her back. She jumps slightly at the contact but does nothing to break it. “We’ve got that thing tonight so we should probably get our workout done,” I say, dropping a kiss to her temple.
“Yeah, uh...” Blue stutters, clearly not sure how to handle this situation. I don’t know how things ended between the two of them, or if they really had ended, and truthfully I don’t care. As long as it’s over now and he gets the message that she’s no longer fair game.
I’m staking my claim, not the least bit ashamed to do so.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” Bruce takes the hint and steps back.
“Yeah, see you around.” Blue gives him a little wave before allowing me to lead her to the other side of the gym.
“What was that?” she hisses at me.
“What?” I play innocent like I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“That.” She hitches her thumb behind us. “You might as well have peed on my leg.”
“Just making sure he knows where you stand.”
“Where I stand or where you stand?”
“Both.” I shrug.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Nope.” I smile, giving her a wink as she veers toward a row machine and takes a seat.
“You realize the bet was that you can’t sleep with anyone, not that I can’t. Maybe I wanted to call him tonight.” I know she’s fucking with me but the thought of them together makes my blood boil a little.
“Now that’s just cold. You wouldn’t do that do me.” I gasp playfully, trying to mask my reaction.
“Wouldn’t I?” She sets her resistance on the machine before looking up at me. “Are you going to stand there watching me or are you going to work out?”
“I don’t know. I’m really kind of enjoying this view.”
“Oh my god. Go.” She points to the array of other weight machines scattered around the space.
Laughing, I let my gaze travel the length of her one last time before I turn, settling onto the leg press just two machines down from her.
I don’t work out for shit. I’m too pre-occupied watching her body move as she rows the machine, her biceps flexing with each pull. Maybe she was right. Working out together might be too distracting. Then again, I’m really enjoying this particular distraction.
“I can see you staring,” she yells without looking in my direction.
“Then stop looking at me,” I call back with a laugh.
She ignores my comment and goes another ten minutes on the row machine before she switches to an ab machine a couple of rows over. I finish my reps and move to the bicep curl machine directly behind her.
“Are you going to follow me everywhere I go?” she asks, sensing me behind her.
“I can’t help it if the machines you’re using are right next to the ones I use.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Thanks to your little bet, I’m full of other things, too.”
Her movement falters but she quickly recovers. “You have a hand, use it.” Even though her back is to me, I can hear the smile in her voice.
“I have. It’s not the same.”
She abruptly stops what she’s doing and turns to face me. “I guess you could go ahead and admit defeat now. I wouldn’t blame you, you know?”
“Nice try. But at the current moment there’s only one person I want. So unless you’re offering...” I let the question hang.
“Absolutely not.” Her response is immediate.
“Well, if you change your mind.”
“You’d let me win that easily?”
“I think the trade-off would be well worth the loss.” I let my gaze fall to her chest before going back up to her face.
“Does this little game of yours usually work?” She turns back around and resumes her workout.
“Every time.” The answer is honest, though I can’t think of a time it’s ever gone this far for this long. Usually after a couple of hours, sometimes less, I’ve already sealed the deal and left. I’ve gotta say, the anticipation is something I didn’t realize I’d enjoy, but every day I go without having her makes me want her more.
“That should tell you something about the women you surround yourself with.”
“I guess maybe it should.”
“I hope you realize that you’re wasting your time. I’m not going to fall in love with you.”
“Is that uncertainty I hear in your voice?”
She shakes her head, her messy ponytail swaying as she does, but she doesn’t reply right away.
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” she answers after a long moment has passed.
“We’ll see about that.” My resolve only grows stronger the more she resists.
Blue Daniels will be mine, one way or the other. The sooner she accepts this, the easier it will be for both of us.
Chapter Eleven
Blue
It’s only been a week since I sat in that dim booth and made a deal with the devil. One week and already he’s made my life impossible. He’s everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. In the last five days I’ve run into him at the grocery store, the little coffee shop by my apartment building, the gym (though that one I’ve come to expect), and even my favorite Chinese restaurant that I go to almost every Friday for lunch with Hannah. As if seeing him at work every time I turn around isn’t bad enough.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was stalking me. The only thing is, he seems just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. Even still, I’m not naive enough to believe it’s some sort of coincidence. Once maybe, but nearly everywhere I go? Definitely not.
“Hey, did you get your glove yet?” Hannah takes her normal seat on the edge of my desk, holding out her hand to inspect her perfectly manicured nails.
“My glove for what?”
“The company softball game, remember? We signed up like two months ago.”
“Shit.” I let out a low groan. “I completely forgot. When is that again?”
“In like two weeks. You can’t back out. I only signed up because you agreed to do it with me.”
“I’m not going to back out. I just forgot.” I run a hand through my waves.
Truth be told, the last thing I want to do is play softball. It’s a game I’ve never been very good at, and giv
en that it’s in tandem with our company picnic, there’s a good chance that Harris will be there. Scratch that, I know he’ll be there as they close the office for the event. There’s no way he would miss a chance to make me sweat, metaphorically of course. It seems to be his new favorite pastime.
I’ve lost count of how many times he’s walked by my desk and whispered something insinuating or has blatantly checked me out just to see how I’ll react. If I wasn’t so damn turned on by it, I’d probably be pissed.
He’s getting to me. But not in the way he’s trying to. He’s crazy if he thinks I could ever love someone like him. Even if I was open to the possibility of love – which I’m not – loving someone like Harris Avery is asking for trouble. But physically, he’s getting to me. And even though I know I could find some hot guy to take my frustrations out on, it wouldn’t be the same. I want him. Plain and simple.
But I’m fighting it. I’m not even sure why at this point. Hannah’s right. What she’s been saying all week is spot on. The only way to beat him at his own game is to play on his level.
But what if that’s all he’s doing? Playing. What if he actually has no interest in me? I’d be humiliated if I threw myself at him and he turned me down. I think that’s my biggest hold up. I need him to be the one to make a move, but so far, other than the one kiss we shared at the Sox game, he hasn’t made one. Not physically anyway. And that’s what I need.
“Well, you better get a glove. Don’t wait until last minute and end up not being able to find one.” Hannah pulls me back to the conversation.
“I’m sure the sporting goods store has plenty.”
“You’re not getting out of this. Even if you have to play barehanded, your ass is playing,” she scolds me.
“Yes, Mom,” I deadpan. “Now if you’re about finished, I’m in need of a pick me up.” I push away from my desk, forcing Hannah to stand. “You want anything from the break room?”
“No, I’m good. I have a meeting in five minutes so I should probably head that way. Are you going to the gym after work?”
“Not today.” I shake my head.
“Gotta hot date or something?”
“No, I just don’t feel up to it today. I haven’t been sleeping well. So instead I’m buying a bottle of wine and curling up on my couch. You’re free to join.”
“That sounds like the perfect Friday evening to me. I have dinner with the fam, otherwise I’d join.”
“Well, if you finish early and want to come over, the offer stands.”
“Sounds good.” She starts to back away. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“K.” I offer her a half wave before heading in the direction of the break room.
I hear a woman’s laughter as I round the corner, but I’m completely unprepared for what comes into my line of sight when I enter the room.
Harris is leaning casually against the counter with a petite blonde pressed against him, her fingers tracing the side of his flexed jaw.
He must hear me enter because his eyes shoot up and a small wave of panic passes over his features when he sees me in the doorway.
Sensing his distraction, the girl turns, smiling when she sees me. “Hey Blue,” Lacie, who works downstairs in sales, greets me casually.
“Hey,” I croak out, the food I ate for lunch earlier seeming to push into my chest, threatening to come up. I take a hard swallow and head toward the vending machine, keeping my eyes focused forward.
My heart beats erratically and a sudden rush of anger washes over me. It catches me off guard and only intensifies the uneasy feeling settling deep in my stomach.
“So, then tonight?” Lacie goes back to whatever they were talking about like I’m not even here.
“Actually, I can’t. I have plans,” Harris responds, his voice tight.
“That’s what you said last week,” she whines.
I try to tune out the conversation as I feed my dollar into the soda machine, but the room is too small and our proximity is too close.
“Yeah, well.” Harris hesitates. “It’s just not a good time for me right now. I’ve got a lot going on.”
“I don’t get you. You’re hot. You’re cold. You want me. You don’t. We had fun at Putters a couple of weeks ago, didn’t we? If I remember right we had quite the team building experience.” Something about the way she says it tells me everything I need to know. He slept with her.
I cough. It’s completely involuntary.
He was with her the night of the team building outing. The night I blew him off and left with Bruce. It shouldn’t bother me. But it does. It really, really bothers me.
Why does it bother me?
I feel both sets of eyes looking at me but I keep my gaze forward as I punch in the code and watch my Diet Mountain Dew slide into the mechanical arm before being lowered into the dispenser. The door slides open and I quickly grab the bottle, eager to escape this room and whatever the hell I just walked in on.
I don’t wait to hear his response to her. Instead, I hightail it out of there like the room has suddenly burst into flames. I make it back to my desk in seconds, my breathing labored and my heart about to pound right out of my freaking chest.
What the hell?
Get it together, Blue.
“Blue,” I hear him behind me seconds later, hesitation in his tone.
Taking a deep breath, I plaster on the fakest smile I can muster and turn toward him.
“What’s up?” I ask casually, setting my soda on the edge of my desk.
“About that.” He hitches his thumb in the direction of the break room.
I hold my hand up to stop him. “No offense, but I really don’t care.” Lie. Lie. Lie. God, I’m such a liar.
“It’s not what you think.”
“So you and Lacie didn’t hook up two weeks ago?” I raise an eyebrow, fighting like hell to keep the jealous monster at bay.
Jealous?
I’m not jealous.
Oh god, I’m one hundred percent jealous.
“No. I mean, yes, we did. But that was before.”
“Before what?” I try to play stupid.
“Before us.”
A broken laugh bubbles from my throat.
“There is no us, Harris. We have a bet. That’s it.”
“Can we talk, maybe somewhere more private?” He looks around and only then do I notice that we’ve drawn a little audience.
“I can’t. I have a lot of work to get done. Maybe later, yeah?”
He hesitates like he’s not sure what to do and it’s oddly endearing to see him so unsure. A man who usually oozes confidence.
“Blue.”
“I said maybe later, Harris.” I give a look that tells him I mean it.
He blows out a heavy breath and nods.
“Okay.”
With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me both proud for not losing it and yet so freaking confused about what I’m feeling. Like I want to throw myself on the floor and have a temper tantrum of all temper tantrums.
——
By seven o’clock I’m home, dressed in my favorite plaid pajama bottoms and black tank, pizza on the coffee table, and a glass of wine in my hand.
I didn’t see Harris again after he left my desk, not that I actually expected to.
No, that’s not true. I completely expected him to show back up. And the fact that he didn’t bothers me more than what I walked in on in the break room.
I’ve just logged into Netflix, determined to push Harris as far from my mind as possible, when a loud knock sounds against my door.
“Seriously,” I grumble aloud, not sure who it could be.
I drag my ass to the door and rise on my tippy toes to look out of the peep hole, once again spotting a huge bouquet of flowers taking up my entire view into the hallway.
“Not again,” I murmur, unlocking the door before pulling it open.
“Blue Daniels?” the young delivery guy asks, reading my name off the card.
“That’s me.” I sigh, taking the flowers, which like before are a mix of blues and red, when he shoves them in my direction.
As much as I want to be annoyed that he sent me flowers, again, I find myself smiling as I take them to the kitchen and eagerly retrieve the card.
Roses may be red,
but violets are not BLUE.
This isn’t just a bet to me,
Even if it is for you.
Am I winning yet?
Harris
I haven’t even begun to process what his note might mean when another knock sounds against my door.
Figuring it’s probably the delivery guy forgetting to have me sign or something, I tug the door open without looking to see who it is.
My jaw goes slack when instead of the delivery guy, I find none other than Harris Avery standing in my doorway, looking so damn delicious in his fitted white t-shirt and jeans. I nearly lose my ability to stand up straight.
“Harris.” My voice comes out heavy.
“Hey.” He rocks back on his heels.
“What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you. I’m really sorry about earlier.”
“Stop.” I hold my hand up. “We are not dating. You owe me no explanation.”
“Is it okay if I give you one anyway?” he asks, the look on his handsome face too much for even me to resist.
“Fine. Come in.” I pull the door the rest of the way open and step back so he can enter.
Closing the door behind him, I turn, my small apartment feeling even smaller with his tall, muscular body filling the space.
He looks around the room, his eyes honing in on the pizza and bottle of wine on the coffee table.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“No, just having a quiet evening in.” I step past him and reclaim my spot on the couch.
“I see you got my flowers,” he says as he walks around the sofa.
“I did, like thirty seconds before you knocked on my door. Good timing.” I look up at him. “Sit.” I point to the opposite end of the couch. He does as I request, but not with his usual ease or smart mouthed comments. “They’re beautiful. Thank you,” I add a little softer. “But you really don’t need to keep sending me flowers.”
“I want to.” He shrugs. “So, about earlier.”
Violets are not Blue Page 7