“This is not me moving in with you. This is not a free pass for you to use me for sex. This is a friend helping a friend. That’s it. Nothing more. I’ll be gone before you even notice I’m there.”
No chance of that. “Fine. You’re off for the rest of the day. Go home. Start packing. I’ll be at your place at six to start to get your stuff.” I’m not giving her a chance to change her mind.
“I’ve already started packing,” she says defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “And my car broke down, remember?”
Again, her breasts lift and threaten to spill over. Sexy, infuriating woman. Reaching into my shorts, I grab my truck keys. I don’t normally keep them on me, but I was so frustrated with her this morning, and her lack of getting rid of that hunk a junk car, I’ve been off my normal routine. “Take my truck. I’ll catch a ride with Harrison.”
“Woah!” We hear from beside us, causing us both to turn and look. Harrison has a sleeping Sophia in his arms, and Gwen is looking between Gabby and me as if we’re some kind of tennis match. “What did we miss?” she questions.
“I guess I’m staying at Chase’s. Just for a couple of weeks. Three tops. That gives me time to find my own place. We’ll be temporary roommates, who hardly ever see each other,” she rushes to add.
This probably isn’t a good time to remind her I can make my own hours. “We’re going to start moving her in tonight,” I say to Harrison. “She’s taking my truck. Can you give me a ride?” I’m also apparently heading to the hardware store to get a new door handle with a lock.
“Sure. I’ll help. I’m going to walk them out. I’ll be right back.” I nod, watching them go. For the first time, I can admit to myself that I want what he has. I want a wife to come home to, and a baby, maybe a couple of babies. My only issue is when that scenario plays out in my mind, Gabby is the only woman I can see by my side.
“Thank you, Chase.”
I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from touching her. It’s something I’ve battled with for years. However, the need is suddenly stronger than ever. “Go home, Gabby. I’ll be there as soon as I wrap up with my last client.”
“Chase!” I turn to see who’s yelling for me and inwardly cringe. Monica is a new client of mine. I’ve been training her going on about two months now, and no matter how many times I dodge her advances, she keeps coming on to me. “Oh, you look so strong in that shirt.” She reaches out and squeezes my bicep.
“Monica,” I greet her as I step away from her and next to Gabby. Turning to face Gabby, I send up a silent plea that she goes along with this. Her green eyes are full of fire that wasn’t there seconds ago. Is she jealous? For my sake, I hope so. Reaching up, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and slowly let my index finger trace her jaw. “So, I’ll see you at home?” I ask her. I keep my voice loud enough, I know Monica can hear, but low enough for the question to seem intimate.
I see the question in her eyes, and I try to tell her with mine to go with it. When she steps closer and slides one arm around my waist and rests the other on my chest, I waste no time, slipping my arm around her, holding her close. I’ll take all the Gabby-in-my-arms time that I can get.
“Absolutely.” She grins up at me. “I’m making your favorite for dinner,” she says sweetly.
“Are you two, like, together?” Monica asks.
“We’re more than together,” I say, my eyes still locked on Gabby. “She’s my future wife.” At least in my fantasies of the future. She’s my wife, the mother of my children, the woman who drives me insane, and the person I cherish most in the world. You know, my fantasy world. Not to say she couldn’t be all those things in real life. I would love nothing more, but first I have to work past this misconception she has of me. I could tell her she’s the only woman I’ve touched outside correcting a position while training or escorting someone to or from a building. She’s the only one I’ve wanted to touch for way too long. I could tell her that, but I know she’s not going to believe me. With her living with me, I’m going to be able to show her that the life she thinks I live is not at all how she imagines it to be.
“Oh my God! You’re engaged?” Monica says the words like marriage is a mortal sin.
“Not yet. One day.” I don’t blink or even attempt to look away from the woman in my arms. In true Gabby fashion, those big green eyes of hers roll back in her head, and my grin grows wider, as does hers. Monica can’t see her, and she thinks I’m putting on a show. She’s still smiling up at me, but from the look in her eyes, she thinks I’m full of shit. If only I could make her see.
“I should get going,” she says, trying to back away.
I keep my grip tight, lower my mouth to hers, and place a featherlight kiss just on the corner of her lips. So close, yet so far. “Be safe, babe. I’ll be home soon.”
She blinks. Once. Twice. Three times before slowly nodding. “Don’t forget we need a new door handle on the spare bedroom,” she says, pulling out of my hold.
I smirk at her. “Already on my list, baby. I’ll see you soon.” Her face flushes, but this time I’m sure it’s from anger. She grabs her phone and pulls open the bottom drawer to retrieve her purse. She gives me a quick raise of her hand as a goodbye and disappears down the hall. I watch as she turns toward the breakroom that leads to the employee parking lot. It’s broad daylight, and I have to fight the urge to rush after her to make sure she makes it to my truck safely. She’d be pissed if she knew that was part of my routine. It’s as if looking out for her, taking care of her is in my DNA or something.
“I didn’t know the two of you were together,” Monica says, crossing her arms over her chest. Funny, her breasts rise just as Gabby’s do, but I can’t find it in me to give them more than a glance. I am a man, after all.
“It’s not something we broadcast at the workplace.”
“You two seemed awfully chummy.”
“She’s my girlfriend. How else am I supposed to be?”
“Of course.” She quickly drops her act of being pissed off. Then again, she probably is pissed. Monica is the type of woman who has men falling at her feet. She thrives on the attention, and from the looks of it, she’s none too happy she’s not getting it from me.
“Go ahead and get started on the treadmill. I’ll be over in fifteen.” I don’t give her time to reply. I’m already jogging down the hall and to the breakroom. Taking a peek out the window, I see Gabby climb into my truck and pull away.
“You good?” Harrison asks.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need to stop at the hardware store on the way to her place.” He doesn’t ask why, just nods and walks out of the room.
I have a few weeks to show her that I’m not the man she thinks I am. In that same amount of time, I have to convince her that she’s all I see. She thinks that in three weeks she’ll be done with me; she has no idea I’m just getting started.
Chapter 3
Gabby
Okay, driving this big ol’ beast of a truck is a hell of a lot different than my little car. I feel like I’m looking down at everyone and afraid these big ol’ tires will crush the little people below me. I can’t imagine driving this beast every day, but for some reason, I can totally picture Chase behind the wheel, his elbow resting on the window frame, his tattooed bicep on full display, and his thumb strumming on the steering wheel to the beat of the song.
The image is sexy as all get out.
No, Gabrielle. It’s not. Stop thinking of Chase as sexy.
Chase isn’t sexy. He’s my friend.
My totally hot doable friend, but whatevs.
Exhaling loudly, I steer the beast into my parking lot, taking up two spots because I can’t park for shit. While the trainers all keep their own schedules, I know Chase’s, and I know Monica is his last client of the day. As manager, he splits his time between the other All Fit locations and training his clients. My priority is keeping Harrison on track, but I’ve taken on the extra duty of managing Chase too. It’s just easier
to know where he’s going to be and when without sending him a billion text messages on behalf of my boss. Plus, I’m pretty sure Chase appreciates my organizational skills. He only balked for a few minutes when I offered, but quickly saw the advantages of having me keep his schedule.
I let myself into my apartment, locking the door behind me. Dying to get out of my gray pencil skirt, and top, I head to my bedroom, tossing my purse on the couch along the way. There are boxes stacked everywhere. I was fortunate to grab a few from a small shipment we received at work last week, but then grabbed a bunch from a grocery store too. So far, I’ve had enough to pack up my apartment, but I’m not sure that’ll be the case with everything. I haven’t even started on the bedroom yet.
Once I find a pair of workout shorts and a tank in my pile of to-put-away laundry (that’s been stacked up for three days), I flip on my Bluetooth speaker and blast P!nk. She’s my fave. My unicorn. My hall-pass lesbian lover, if I were to ever swing that way. There’s just something about her rad hair, her I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, and those magnificent pipes God gave her that makes her the best female artist ever.
I grab an empty box and head to my closet. It’s not pretty, I’ll be honest. As methodical as I am at work, those skills haven’t exactly seeped into my closet organization. I start grabbing shoes and toss them into the box. Before I know it, the box is full. Then another. Yeah, I’m a total shoe whore. I love them. Everything from sexy pumps to comfy sneakers. And flip-flops? I’ve probably got fourteen pairs in there. When I finally dig through the pile, I end up with three large boxes full of shoes. I grab the marker and write SHOES across the top before trying to move it over to the wall. They’re a little heavier than I anticipated, but with a little booty power, I finally slide them out of my way.
With another box ready to go, I dive into my clothes. The hangers are tossed on my bed as I fold each piece and stack it inside. Fine, I throw it inside, but whatever. Between each piece deposited in the box, I do a little shimmy and hip shake, singing along about revenge on a cheating ex. God, I love P!nk.
By the time I get through my closet, I have two bags of trash and older clothes that either don’t fit or aren’t my style anymore and a few more boxes ready to go. I feel good about this whole move thing, even if it’s to Chase’s place. I’m still not convinced it’s the right move, but it will be nice not to live in that place across from the jail. Hopefully, Chase will come through with the new doorknob and I won’t have to worry about issues with privacy or anything.
Even though Chase and Harrison should be here shortly, I keep going with my packing project, switching to my dresser. With another big box ready to be filled, I start at the bottom drawer and pull out my shorts and capris. My hips are moving and from this squatting position, I’m able to whip out a solid twerk (even though I despise twerking). With each drawer that I empty, I add in a few more suggestive rolls of my hips and butt wiggles. By the time I’ve reached my top drawer, I’m in full-on dance competition mode. I’m singing at the top of my lungs, grinding my hips, and shaking my ass, while dropping thongs and bras into the box.
I’m just working my way up from a drop when I catch movement in my peripheral vision. When I glance up, I find Chase staring at me in the mirror. I startle, a scream pulling from my lungs, and the panties in my hand go flying. Of course, when I jump, I end up catching my leg on the corner of my bed and stumble to my side. I’m kept from going down, however, by strong arms with a fresh soapy scent. “Easy there, killer,” Chase whispers, just barely above the music.
“What are you doing here?” I yell, my heart pounding hard in my chest as I reach for my phone to turn down the music.
“I’m enjoying the hell out of the show,” he replies, that stupid smirk on his too-handsome face.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare. Chase only repeats the movement, leaning his broad frame against the doorjamb and smiling widely. “How did you get in here?”
“A key.”
“How did you get a key?” I ask, one eyebrow rising in question.
“I have my ways,” he replies loosely, not giving anything away.
“Give it to me,” I state, reaching my hand forward.
“Right here and now? Okay, Gabrielle, whatever you want? Would you like it on the bed or maybe against the wall? You seem like you’d really appreciate it against the door,” he replies, his voice all deep and husky. I instantly picture exactly what he’s referring to. My legs wrapped around his waist as he gives it to me hard and fast.
Shit, don’t think about that!
I clear my throat, desperately swiping away those vivid images that suddenly seem to have grown roots in my brain. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You can’t say stuff like that to me, Chase. We’re friends, remember?” Why does my voice sound all breathy?
Chase steps forward, invading my personal space. Even though the desire to step back is strong, I hold my ground and don’t move. I don’t want him to know how much he actually affects me. “Yes, I do recall the ‘friends’ conversation. That’s the reason we stopped at the hardware store and grabbed you a new lock.” He takes a half step closer, our bodies practically touching. “But what I was thinking when I saw you dancing a few moments ago? That was anything but friendly.”
A shiver sweeps through my body, and dammit, I can’t help it, I glance down. Chase may be wearing a pair of old, form-fitting Levi’s, but there’s no mistaking the outline of a very impressive erection within that denim. My mouth suddenly dries like the Sahara. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I know he’s playing some stupid game, trying to get me all flustered and worked up, but it’s not going to work. I’m not going to let him get under my skin like that.
He’s already there…
Oh, shut up.
I really need to stop talking to myself.
With a quick shake of my head, I stand up tall, steeling my back. “Are you here to help me move or are you going to run your mouth all night?” I ask, crossing my arms again. When I do, my elbows bump into his very hard, very muscular abs. All eight of them.
Again, he smirks. “Oh, sweet Gabrielle, the things I can do with my mouth,” he quips breezily, crossing his own arms over his chest and bumping into me as he does. “But, I’m not here to fulfill your wildest and dirtiest dreams, princess. I’m here to help you move into my bedroom.”
“Your guest bedroom,” I remind sternly.
“Potato, potahtoh,” he sasses. “So, stop trying to seduce me and let me carry all these boxes out to my truck.” He claps his hands and takes a step back, glancing around at the stacks around the room. “All of these go?”
“All of these in here, yes,” I reply, glancing around. “The garbage bags over there will go to the dumpster and those in the hall to the resale shop. I was going to load them in my car and take them on my lunch break tomorrow, but I still have to figure out what I’m doing about that problem,” I add, suddenly remembering that I really have to figure out what’s wrong with my car and if I want to spend the money fixing it or not.
“Harrison’s on his way to get a new starter,” he says absently, heading over to the boxes labeled shoes.
“How does he know to get that?”
Chase shrugs and hoists the first heavy box of shoes into his arms. “We stopped and checked it out on our way over here. We’re pretty sure it’s just the starter, so we’ll try that and go from there. You really should consider getting something more reliable though, Gabs. That car is going to start nickel and diming you real quick like.”
I hear his words, but I’m transfixed on his arms. He lifted that box so effortlessly when I could barely move it. Now, the muscles in his arms are bulging against the gray cotton T-shirt and my mouth is suddenly watering. “Yeah, okay.”
He glances back my way. “Hey, Gabs, my eyes are up here. Quit objectifying my sexy body, will you?”
With that, he heads out of my bedroom.
I sigh deeply, relief washing over me that
he’s finally out of my bedroom. A bedroom that suddenly felt ten times smaller with his presence. I make a mental note to keep Chase out of my bedroom as much as possible. I’m afraid I might not be strong enough to heed my own advice when it comes to his charms.
And something tells me, not getting sucked into Chase’s web of charisma is going to be a tougher challenge than anticipated. Don’t underestimate a man who does all his thinking with the small brain in his pants. I refuse to be one of his women. Even though he’s adamant there aren’t any, I’m just not sure if I believe him or not.
Not really having the time or energy to dive into Chase’s bedroom habits, I finish packing up the final box of clothes from my dresser. Of course, I have to pick up the panties I basically tossed all over the room when Chase scared the crap out of me. When I have it all together, I start to fold the flaps over, securing the box.
“Don’t forget these, Gabrielle,” Chase whispers huskily over my shoulder, dangling a hot pink lace thong in the air. “Of course, if you don’t have any room in the box, I can hang onto them for you.”
As I turn around, he is stuffing the thong into his pocket. “Give me those, you big jerk.”
Chase barks out a laugh as I rip the panties from his claws. “Feisty. I like that,” he teases with a wink before heading back over to the stack of boxes.
Before too long, we have my bedroom and bathroom cleared out and in the truck when Harrison arrives. “Your car’s set. It fired right up with the new starter,” he says, coming into my apartment and starting to grab boxes.
“Wait, how in the hell did you guys get keys to my apartment and my car?” I ask.
Harrison shrugs. “Your sister gave me her copy of your apartment key,” he says, grabbing two boxes with kitchen stuff.
“And I lifted your car keys when you were in the bathroom at work,” Chase adds, not even a little bit guilty about stealing my key.
Fair Lakes Series Box Set Page 29