12 Steps to Mr. Right

by Cindi Madsen

  He lifted his hand and slowly brushed my hair from my face, his fingers dragging tingly trails across my skin, and that zing of awareness from yesterday tiptoed into all-consuming territory.

  My breath lodged in my throat as my brain battled out whether to embrace carefree fun or stop this before we crossed a line we couldn’t uncross. This was why you were supposed to make those decisions long before the situation. In the moment, clear thoughts were too slippery.

  “Linc…”

  “Yes?”

  My chest rose and fell in tandem with his.

  “Let me guess,” he said, when I couldn’t get my mouth to work. “You’re supposed to ignore attraction and follow all the rules, no matter what. Don’t pretend you don’t feel something.”

  With his hard body against me, it was impossible to deny. “Sparks are nice, but if you don’t have a balance, it’s like having really rich cheesecake every day. It’s delicious, but it’s not good for you. There are also different levels of sparks. Mild attraction can grow. Like those people you think are merely okay looking, but the more you get to know them, the better looking they become. That’s preferable to getting zapped and then fried by super-strong sparks.”

  Honestly, I couldn’t believe I forced that much out. Usually talking clinically about emotions calmed guys down, but Linc seemed just as…not calm, his eyes darkening as they moved to my lips.

  “So if you feel a spark you snuff it out?”

  I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Not necessarily. It depends on what caused the spark. A look. An accidental brush—”

  “Like so?” He brushed his fingertips down my arm, and my heart tried to beat right out of my chest. If this were an experiment in sparkage, well, mission achieved.

  He leaned closer and his warm breath hit my neck. “You’ve got goose bumps. Tell me, is that a good sign?”

  I bit my lip, suppressing the moan that wanted to come out. “Your entire body is against mine. That’s cheating.”

  “Well, you’ve given your opinions on the subject, but here’s mine. Rules take out all the fun. Once in a while, you’ve just gotta live in the moment and let your instincts take over.”

  I was about to tell him that security was fun—not to mention a lot safer—but then he pressed his lips to mine.

  Every thought flew out of my head as I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave in to the kiss. The need to be closer overwhelmed me, and my instincts did take over. I arched my hips against his, the delicious friction sending a dart of heat up my core. Linc ran his hand up the outside of my leg, across my hip, and behind my back. He pushed me closer, eradicating every centimeter of space between our bodies as his tongue stroked mine.

  Time slowed down and sped up, the room spun, and my entire being came down to his hands, his body, his lips.

  Seconds passed—or maybe they were minutes. Each touch, each taste, blurred into the next. Then Linc sat up and tugged my shirt up. His fingertips dragged against my skin, and suddenly memories broke into real life. Kissing him. Losing my clothes.

  And waking up alone.

  “Stop.” I jerked away, my breath sawing in and out of my mouth. I could tell I’d stunned him, and I took advantage of his surprise, using it to put as much space as I could between us.

  All my rules and experiences, and I still let myself kiss Linc. Let myself think I could live in the moment and not care about tomorrow morning. Frustration rose up, my body and my mind equally mad at me, but for different reasons.

  “I…I can’t do this.” Dammit. I seriously considered fleeing, but I was an adult. Side note: I wasn’t sure I wanted to be an adult anymore. “Yes, I feel a lot of sparks when I’m with you, which makes it hard to not think about crossing that line. But I need more.”

  Step Ten: Instead of assuming you’re on the same page, have the big talks. Communicate what you need and what you want. There’s nothing wrong with expecting more out of your relationships.

  I might’ve broken nearly a dozen other rules, but I’d at least get one right. “I need dates and hand-holding, and hangouts that are about more than just sex. If that’s not your thing, I understand, but then that means we need to stick to being just friends.”

  Linc reached over and grabbed my hand. “How’s dinner Wednesday night sound?”

  “Out somewhere?” I challenged, eyes narrowed.

  “Wherever you want.” He slipped his fingers between mine, and a tight band formed around my chest. “I’m not the right type of guy, I get it. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, I’m not great at relationships, and my career—hell, my entire life—is up in the air right now.” His grip on my hand tightened and I experienced that fresh from the rollercoaster feeling. “But, Savannah, I’m crazy about you.”

  My heart beat in sharp, erratic bursts that pumped happiness through me in intoxicating waves.

  “A wise fortune cookie once told me that the greatest risk is not taking one, and I want to take a risk with you.” He cupped my cheek with his free hand and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “What do you say?”

  I peered into his blue, blue eyes and slowly moved in, until my lips pressed against his. “I’d say we owe it to the cookie.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Me-mow likes him,” Abigail said by way of introduction. It took me a moment to switch gears from replaying kissing Linc last night to Me-mow and whoever “him” referred to.

  I gestured for Abigail to take a seat. Unfortunately, the super cushy chairs were occupied when I came into the Daily Grind this morning, so I settled for a table near the window. “Likes who?”

  “Reid!” Abigail sat, and instead of smoothly scooting her chair closer, she grabbed onto the bottom and jump-scooted it, which bumped the table and made my coffee cup wobble. “At first it was touch and go, but I wasn’t going to let it sway me—just like you said—and by the end of the night Me-mow let Reid pet him once before he ran. That’s pretty much the same as like.

  “And look!” She thrust her phone toward me. The photo showed Abigail’s and Reid’s faces side by side, both of them wearing huge grins. “That’s from Thursday night at the movies—he took it and texted it to me, isn’t that sweet?”

  “Yeah, it really is.”

  “Then last night he took me to Wahoo! Grill in Decatur, and we got this amazing table in the patio area. I also managed to avoid spilling anything on myself, which was pretty miraculous. I did snort-laugh once, but he called it adorable. I tried to hold back laughing after that, but he coaxed several more out of me, and pretty soon I was comfortable again.”

  “That’s amazing, Abigail. I’m so happy for you.” I smiled at the picture one more time before giving back her phone. “So, you invited him up after your date last night?”

  She nodded. “I wanted to keep the date going—we were just having so much fun. But I remembered your rule about knowing where you were at before sleeping with him, and he didn’t push, either. We played videogames, and then we kissed. A lot.” She leaned in conspiratorially and added, “I’ve never been kissed like that in my life. I could hardly breathe or think or do anything but blink at him afterward.”

  That I could relate to. Pulling away from Linc last night hadn’t been easy, and I’d arrived home so late it was a wonder I was even semi-coherent.

  “It’s crazy, because I never thought someone like him would like someone like me. He’s, like, super-ripped from his job of moving furniture and heavy boxes day after day. I could feel the muscles through his shirt.” Abigail fanned her face with her hand and laughed.

  “Always a bonus,” I said.

  “Now, what do I do to make sure I don’t mess it up?”

  “First, remember that you’re a catch—you’re looking for companionship, and hopefully so is he. So equal power. You’re strong, he’s strong. You have your hobbies, he has his.” I went over a few more dating dos and don’ts. Don’t text too much, and when you do, keep it short and flirty. Don’t over-share. Listen, be honest, lo
ts of eye contact.

  We did a couple of practice date runs, and then I said, “You’re seriously rocking the dating thing, Abigail.”

  A smile spread across her face. “This part is fun. And now that he’s met Me-mow and Princess Bubblegum, I don’t feel quite so anxious.”

  “Right. But again, remember Me-mow might have mood swings, and he and Reid will have to get used to each other as you spend more time together.”

  “But you think he’ll want to spend more time with me?”

  “If he’s even a little bit smart, he will.”

  Abigail leaned forward and hugged me. I could tell she second-guessed it last minute, but she’d already committed, so it was a quick, barely there hug. So that she wouldn’t second-guess the next time, I tightened the hug and told her that I was happy about all the progress she’d made this month, and that she better keep me updated.

  …

  “Whenever you insist on our destination being a secret, I know I’m going to end up regretting it,” I said the following Sunday morning as Linc and I walked down the sidewalk, toward his car.

  “You regretted the baseball game?” he asked, and I could hear a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  “No.” I spun to face him and placed my hand on his chest. “I liked the baseball game—you know I did. Not just looking at the players, but being there with you.”

  I got the crooked smile. He wrapped his arms around my waist. “For a while there, I thought my plan had backfired and you’d end up going home with one of the players.”

  “You had a plan? You said you were a superhero, but I’m starting to think you’re a supervillian.”

  Linc drew me closer and kissed my neck. A squeal escaped my lips and a pleasant shiver ran down my spine. So far we’d squeezed two dates into our hectic, and honestly, clashing schedules. He took me to dinner on Wednesday, as promised, and we caught a matinee movie yesterday afternoon, when I should’ve been working. I’d had to rush to make it on time to teach Session Six of my workshop.

  Not that I regretted it, even if it left me more scatterbrained than usual. My determination to stick to at least part of my dating guidelines was shaky, but still in place. And it wasn’t like going on actual dates with him was making me want to forget the last of my rules and take things to the next level every second of the day. Nope. I made it at least five seconds in between.

  Okay, three.

  Linc opened the passenger door and motioned me inside, but I paused halfway in. “So I was bluffing about the regret part, but I do like to know where I’m going,” I said, and when he remained tight-lipped, I slowly lowered myself into the seat. “Can’t you just give me a hint?”

  Linc closed the door, leaving me to give my incredulous dropped-jaw expression over his refusal to the passersby on the sidewalk.

  Like I’d give up that easily. The second he climbed inside, I spun to face him. “Why do you insist on everything being a surprise?”

  “Why do you insist on knowing everything?”

  “That’s not about insisting, it’s just a fact. I do know everything.” I added an over-the-top grin.

  Linc shook his head, then he leaned across the console and kissed me. “The fact that it drives you crazy when I won’t tell you makes it more fun. Just relax and enjoy the suspense.”

  “But if it’s for research…?”

  The engine rumbled to life and Linc pulled onto the road. He turned up the A/C first, the radio second, and then his hand dropped to my knee. Honestly, when I told him I needed more, I’d half expected him to tell me that doing the dating thing wasn’t his style. While it would’ve hurt, I could’ve told myself it was for the best.

  Over the past week, I’d grown more attached to the idea of more, but I couldn’t quite let my guard down. I kept reminding myself of Abigail’s unexpected match with Reid, how Linc had admitted he’d made mistakes. But his red flags were still there in the back of my mind. The past tried to rise up a few times, too, but I’d pushed that baggage away, so I was leaving it there.

  Anyway, I was working at it.

  I stretched tall in my seat, like that’d help me figure out where Linc was taking us. When he pulled into the Atlanta Motor Speedway, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Isn’t this where the NASCAR races are?”

  “Yep.”

  Linc got out of the car, came around, and opened my door for me. “I guarantee this venue attracts a lot of single guys—you might want to mention it in your list.”

  I looked at the gigantic circular building with the large sponsor banners. “Not to be judgmental—”

  “Since when?”

  I smacked his arm. “I just mean, I don’t think these type of guys are…the type I’m looking for.”

  “You don’t think any local Atlanta women will be into NASCAR guys?”

  My first instinct was to say, no, no I don’t. But obviously those guys got married, and they were probably perfectly nice guys. But I was just enough of a snob to not want to have NASCAR races as one of my list items. Apparently I was judgmental.

  As I glanced around, confusion also set in. Only a few cars sat in the parking lot, and no loud, zooming noise came from the speedway. Not to mention the lack of people streaming in and out of it. “I think you must have the date wrong. There’s no event here.”

  As we walked toward the speedway, Linc grabbed my hand. “There is, it’s just a private one. It has to do with that other job I keep hinting at. I guess now that they accepted the interview I did the other night at the game, I can talk about it without jinxing it.”

  I slowed and tugged him to a stop. “Spill.”

  A frantic, excited energy radiated from him as he let loose a huge grin. “TieBreaker Magazine wants me to write an article about the rush of other sports compared to my experience in baseball.”

  “TieBreaker Magazine?”

  “It’s a fairly new publication that covers all types of sports—one of the journalists who used to interview me connected me with his editor. I wrote up an article from the night we went to the Braves game, hoping I could be a stringer—”

  At my lowered eyebrows, he said, “A freelancer for a magazine.”

  “Got it.”

  “Anyway, they’re going to run it, and they asked me to take on this assignment, as sort of a test run to see if it could spin off into a regular feature.”

  “That’s awesome, Linc! And the offices are here in Atlanta?”

  “Baltimore, actually. I’m not sure what that means, or where they’d want me, but…well, if they want me full-time, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

  A hollow spot opened over my heart, growing more and more as I thought about Linc moving away. I’d been left behind for a job before. As happy as I was about the opportunity in a field he clearly loved, it dug at my insecurities and put me on edge. “So, you’d write articles with a sports theme and cover games?”

  “That’s the hope. I’d cover games and get to interview players. They want write-ups they can put online right away, so it’ll be super current and keep that traffic. Pretty much it’s as close to still being in the game as I can be.”

  A job that he’d constantly travel a lot for? Total red flag. Like, deep red, possibly add another flag considering he didn’t usually do relationships or labels.

  Since right now he needed my full support, I forced back those worries and propped the approximation of a smile onto my face. “I’m sure you’re going to write a killer article.”

  “I’ll need your help with the grammar—don’t let me get away with any of those dirty crossword puzzle tricks.”

  “Never,” I said, and at least my smile turned genuine. He wrapped his arm around me, and we made our way inside.

  My nerves only pricked more as we approached the track. Two racecars sat at the start line, and several guys stood off to the side—a couple of drivers and a few crew members from the looks of it. Then there was the pile of gear.

  “You’re going to ride in th
e car with a NASCAR driver?” I asked.

  “We’re gonna ride in a car with a NASCAR driver.”

  I stopped cold, my feet gluing themselves to the pavement. “No way.”

  “Come on. Haven’t you always wanted to go two hundred miles an hour?”

  “No. I like breathing and not having broken bones or knowing what it’s like to endure a fiery crash.”

  Linc reached for my hand and I jerked it behind me, out of his reach. “It’s not like they’re going to crash,” he said.

  “It’s not like they plan on crashing. No one goes out there thinking it’ll be their last spin around the track, but shit happens.”

  Linc laughed like I’d told some grand joke.

  Panic crested and took hold. “Jackson and I almost wrecked on the freeway once—the car in front of us lost its tires and spun out of control. The car bumped ours and sent us spinning, too. We narrowly missed another car and ended up on the shoulder, an inch from the concrete divider.”

  All traces of humor disappeared from Linc’s expression. He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a steady look, but it didn’t make me feel any steadier.

  “I may not watch a lot of NASCAR, but I’ve seen the tires come off, just like they did that day.” My breath hitched and my rapid pulse hammered through my head.

  “If you don’t want to get in the car, you don’t have to,” Linc said, his voice low and soothing as he massaged my shoulders. “I thought it’d be fun for you to be in the other car, but I didn’t know.”

  I nodded. Glanced at the two cars and then Linc. “I…I don’t want you to get in a car, either. If you crashed, I’d…” I couldn’t finish.

  Linc put his thumbs under my chin and tipped my head up so that our gazes locked. “I need to do this for my article. But I promise I’ll be okay. You’ll be telling me how bossy I am again this afternoon. Promise.”