Chapter 6
Blakely
Annaleigh's wedding is only a few days away, which means that it's time to commence the mandatory frivolous girlie activities.
This morning she and her maid-of-honor/future sister-in-law, Evangeline, started the day by dragging me to a hot yoga class at Prasanna Light Oneness Studio and Spa, my sister’s yoga retreat center where I work part-time. Then, we had full-body massages, mani-pedis and girl talk.
And by ‘girl talk’, I mean Annaleigh showed Eva pictures she took of Nicholas the day I met him outside of the bookstore. Then Eva spent the next 45 minutes trying to convince me to ‘bone’ him. Classy dame, she is. The conversation went something like this;
Annaleigh hands Eva her phone where a photo of Nicholas is on display. Eva fans herself dramatically as she drools over the photo. "Now Blakely, if that man doesn’t get your panties wet, then you’re dead inside," she quips.
The manicurist tucks her head into her chest and titters. I shoot her a look that says, Mind your business, lady! Annaleigh laughs. "Agreed. And he’s totally hot for you, Blakes. Did you see the way he was looking at you that day?"
I think back to the way he stared at my lips across the picnic table. And the instant dampness at my core confirms it – I'm not dead inside. Not by a long shot. But thanks for your concern, girls.
Anyway, next on the itinerary is a light lunch at the Herbivore Café with a few other friends. But first, I break away from them for a few minutes to go check my work schedule.
"Hey sweetie," my sister says exhaling roughly as I poke my head into her boho-style office.
I smile at her. "Those worry lines are gonna stick, Isla," I scold playfully as I take her in, sitting at her desk surrounded by order forms, receipts and other paperwork. I know she hates that side of the business but she says it's a necessary evil.
"Urgh! You know how I feel about all this admin stuff. It's the worst." She forces a laugh, dragging her fingers through her hair.
I drop into the seat opposite her. "I'll gladly take some of it off of your hands," I offer innocently, giving her a sweet smile. She doesn’t need to know about my ulterior motives. I'm desperate to pick up as many shifts as I can just as an excuse to stay out of my apartment.
Nicholas has taken over the place.
His shoes are kicked off by the door. His favorite energy drink takes up an entire shelf of the refrigerator. His potent masculine scent has invaded every room.
Everything about him is everywhere, haunting me. And I don't know what to do about it. I've been in a state of hyperarousal since the day I met him and it's starting to fray my nerves. The fact that he walks around shirtless ninety percent of the time isn't helping at all. He’s all I think about.
He’s even worked his way into my current novel. Taken by my Bad Boy Roommate should probably be re-named Blakely’s Big, Fat, Dirty Fantasy that’s Never (Ever) Gonna Happen.
Hmmm…That actually has a nice ring to it. Maybe I’ll make it a standalone.
Isla sighs as she grabs the binder containing the work schedules. "You're a god-send, Blakes." She examines the messy sheets of paper. "I can give you an extra shift on Tuesday at 3:30."
"Perfect." I almost bounce in my seat with relief. "Anything on Friday night?" I ask.
"Sure," she says absentmindedly. "The other girls never want to work Friday nights. They've always got 'big plans’." She draws air-quotes. "A new date every weekend. Reyfield isn't exactly rife with bachelors so I don't get it."
That’s very true. Single men under 45 are a rare commodity in this town. Most of the males in this small Chicago suburb have prosthetic hips and are nursing-home-ready. The women around here get vicious whenever one of the few young, attractive guys of Reyfield go on the market. I know that as soon as they lay eyes on Nicholas and his broad shoulders and his juicy lips, it will be the Great Civil War of Reyfield over him.
"Oh, by the way, Wesley tells me he hooked you up with a new roommate?" Isla tosses out excitedly.
My eyes stay glued to the schedule. "Uh-huh," I say noncommittally. I pray to god my face doesn’t start pinking up.
But my sister isn’t done with the subject. "What's his name? Is he cute?" A wide grin nearly splits her face in half.
I shrug and try to act too cool to care. "His name is Nicholas. He's all right, I guess." Why is my voice so high-pitched right now?
Isla collapses against the back of her chair and roars with laughter. "Ah! You think he's cute!” she coos. “Aww, Blakes!" She reaches across the table and taps my hand like she's petting a vulnerable little kitten.
I spew a string of unconvincing denials but Isla just continues to giggle. "I didn't come here to be mocked," I say, turning up my nose at her. I take a quick snap of the schedule with my phone and bound toward the door. "I'm getting out of here. I’ve got to meet up with Annie, Evangeline and the gang for lunch. Bridesmaid duties."
"Can I come over to meet him next week?" she shouts after me. I pretend not to hear her, hurriedly closing the door behind me.
I love my sister like crazy. Ever since our parents died, she’s been the only constant in my life. But I won’t sit here, dishing to her about who’s cute and who isn’t. We’re not in middle school.