Chapter 1
Matt
You’d think that, after seven years on the job, I’d be tired of the same thing all the time. I’m not though. The regulars on my route make it interesting every day.
Take Mrs. Patterson for example. Her graying red hair is in a bun on the top of her head, and her leggings have teddy bears all over them. Every day, it’s a different pair, but that makes sense. She sells them, so she wears them as free advertising for her business. She just started this year, but she’s already profitable and building a team.
She waves at me as she comes to the door.
“Just one package for you today, Mrs. Patterson,” I say when she opens the door.
“Thanks, Matt,” she says, taking the heavy package from my hands while I hold the door open.
I’d ask if she needs help, but I learned my lesson a long time ago. This woman is strong and capable, so I break protocol and hand it over without offering assistance.
“Not a problem. Hey.” I let the screen door close as she sets the heavy box on the floor. “Has your son heard back from Yale yet?”
“He did yesterday!” she exclaims, coming back to the door. “He got in, and he’s already deciding which classes he wants to take.”
I smile at her. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
“Thanks so much.” She brushes some loose hair from her face, her mouth curved in a beaming grin. “We’re all so excited.”
“You should be. That’s great news.” Then I back away and wave. “Have a great day.”
“You too!” she says before shutting her front door.
With that, I head back to my truck for the next delivery.
To keep things fresh, I find ways to make delivering packages new all the time. New music and podcasts to listen to. New ways to challenge myself while I’m out on my route. New people to meet as they move from house to house and the neighborhoods change. And I strive to remember the details of my regulars’ lives.
I also live for the days when Cadence Griffith’s name shows up on my manifest in the morning. She’s my next delivery, and no matter how many times I deliver to her house, it never goes the way I hope it will. That could be because I hope that our encounters will end with her on her back and me buried deep inside her even though we’ve never spoken to each other.
Over the year I’ve had her house on my route, she’s almost always shut the door immediately after she’s taken the package from me. Which is on the lucky days she’s home to accept the delivery. Sometimes, I ring the doorbell and don’t even get a peek at her beautiful face. Or her sexy-as-hell body.
It doesn’t seem to matter though. My heart speeds up every single time I deliver to her. Something draws me to her. Probably the mystery surrounding her, that I know so little about her when I’ve gotten to know so many others on my route. And, well, she’s fucking drop-dead sexy and seems to have no idea. There’s that too.
As I pull up to her house a minute later, I wonder if today will be any different. I grab the package out of the back of my truck and head up her driveway. After I ring the doorbell, I take a few extra seconds to set the box down by her door before walking back to my truck. Right when I turn around to head down her driveway, the doorknob creaks.
I freeze for a brief moment. No one else has ever answered her door, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a husband or a boyfriend—or even a wife or a girlfriend—living with her. God, wouldn’t that be a funny twist? Spending all of this time dying to get this woman into bed and she doesn’t even like men?
I don’t even need to look to see if it’s her though. The usual buzz from being in her presence thrums through my veins, so I know she’s standing behind me.
Because torturing myself has become my favorite pastime, I look anyway. And I get a glimpse of perfection. Long, brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. A workout tank top hanging on her thin frame. Tight yoga pants hugging her curves. Earbuds in her ears, plugged into the cell phone in her hand. When she flashes her green gaze at me, I wonder how she heard the doorbell ring while she’s clearly listening to something, but I let that thought go. Instead, I’m grateful for these ten seconds. It’s more than I usually get. And it’ll be enough fill my mental fantasy tank until the next time I see her.
I give her my best thank-you, have-a-great-day, I’m-sorry-that-I’ve-imagined-fucking-you-eight-hundred-different-ways smile and a small wave as I walk backwards to my truck. I figure I’ll get the usual half grin and a finger wave back, but I get the shock of a lifetime when she picks the package up and speaks to me for the first time.
“Thanks. I was hoping this would be here this early,” she says.
I nearly stumble over my own two feet at the sound of her voice. It’s everything I hoped it’d be and so much more. Deep but sexy. And I wonder how high I can get it to go when she’s screaming my name.
God, what this woman does to me.
It takes a few seconds, but I come back to life and find my own voice.
“Oh, I can deliver earlier from now on if you need me to,” I offer. And in all kinds of ways, ma’am.
“You can do that?” she asks, hugging the box to her chest, which lifts her gorgeous, mouth-watering breasts up so her cleavage is on full display.
“I’m not supposed to,” I answer, “but I wouldn’t mind.” Then I shrug.
She wrinkles her forehead and waves a dismissive hand. “No big deal. I was just being impatient.” Her small smile curves her lips and carves itself deeper into my chest.
What the hell? Yeah, sure, my heart speeds up around her, but it doesn’t normally sputter around like this. Or make space for shitty things like anything more than sex. Because fuck no.
Been there, done that, won’t do it again. Period. End of story.
I smile back though, hoping she likes seeing mine as much as I like seeing hers. Because I still wouldn’t mind sleeping with her. Not one bit.
“Either way,” I say. “Let me know.” Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I head back to my truck, trying to play it cool. Trying not to let my heart spout off some bullshit to my brain. Nope.
When I pull away from her house, she’s still standing on the porch, watching me as I go. I grin and wave, hoping I left a good impression during our first real encounter. And, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a light blush on her cheeks. She hides her mouth with the box, but I can see the crinkles her smile creates near her eyes. The whole image makes my heart stutter and stop before it resumes a racing speed, and I nearly miss a turn on my way out of her neighborhood.
The fuck? I’m not sure when I turned back into that guy, but I have no plans to torture myself with that kind of shit again. With love and the promise of forever. Hell no. It’s just about sex. She’s hot as hell. That’s all there is to it.
But, now that I’ve heard her voice and seen that smile, I know I’m so fucked.
∞∞∞
Cadence
Once he’s driven away, I release the death grip I have on this box along with the breath I was holding. That man is willing to break the rules of his job to deliver something trivial in the scheme of things all because I wanted it sooner? I can’t imagine why that’d be, but I do feel what it does to my heart. Because how long has it been since a man has gone out of his way to do something nice for me? A heck of a long time. That’s for sure.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time my ex-husband did anything like that. It’s not the only reason we got divorced, but it certainly contributed to why I finally ended things. And he’s the prime example of the kind of guy I’ll never be with again. Not that I try to date anyway. Between work and my training schedule, I don’t even have time. It’s not high up on my list of things to do when I’m too busy selling houses, making money, and hitting the gym or the trails.
Nope. Ever since my divorce, I’ve made it a point to do the things I want to do. And dating just isn’t one of them.
Becoming a successful realtor? Check.
Completing a marathon? Soon-to-be check.
But this deliveryman has me reconsidering and thinking about making some time. He’s cute. That gleaming smile. His ice-blue gaze under the rim of his work hat. Those freaking dimples. His strong, muscular arms nearly bursting out of his uniform. Yeah, I noticed. A damn year ago, I noticed. Obviously. I’m freaking blushing like a schoolgirl.
I let out a long, sad sigh as I walk back inside the house. Because no. Just no. I can’t.
Can I? Maybe just one night? Like the rest of them?
No. There’s no way only one night with that guy will suffice. He’ll be the best sex I’ve ever had and I won’t want to give him up. Then I’ll start to slack off with my business and miss running sessions for my training. Soon after that, I’ll drop the running altogether and settle into a good-enough pattern at work.
Been there, done that, got divorced over it. Won’t do it again.
When I reach the kitchen, my cell phone rings through the earbuds in my ears. That reminds me that I was headed out for my run. See? How soon I’ve already forgotten real life to daydream about the deliveryman and how good it will feel when he pushes me up against this wall and—
“Hello?” I answer between gritted teeth, tossing my package on my kitchen table.
“Cade? You okay?” my sister asks.
I shake myself out of my disappointment. My sister is nothing to be disappointed over.
“Oh, hey, Gina.” I stick my phone between my head and my shoulder and fill my water bottle. “What’s up?”
“Did you catch this week’s episode of This Is Us? Oh my god. How many times did you cry?”
I sigh into the phone. “Of course not. You know I don’t have time to watch TV.”
“Well, then what I really want is to see if my maid of honor is ready for my bachelorette party this weekend. That’s all.”
I can picture her checking her nails as she speaks into the phone. I can only hope I’m not that predictable. But I realize I’m being short with her, so I shake myself out of that too.
“Of course,” I tell her. “We’re meeting at your house at nine and then heading to the bar after that.”
“Which bar?” she asks.
“Uh, it’s your bachelorette party, so I’m not telling you.” I cap my water. “It’s a surprise.” Which is Cade-speak for Shit, I haven’t planned this yet.
She barks out a humorless laugh. “Don’t pretend I don’t know what that means.”
“No one’s pretending anything,” I say, leaning down to tighten my shoelaces. “We’re going to have a good time, so don’t worry. It’s still four days away. Chill.”
She sighs down the line. “Cade, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand. I asked you because I love you, but I won’t be hurt if this is—”
“Stop, sis. It’s fine.”
It’s not fine, but I’m just busy enough to put it out of my mind. I’m thrilled that my sister is happy and marrying a man she wants to spend her life with. And I won’t let my own failed marriage and how hurt I still am about that whole mistake get in the way of celebrating with her. She deserves happiness and fun, not her older sister bringing her down.
“If you say so,” she huffs out, clearly not buying what I’m selling.
As I stand up, I make a mental note to bring my house-selling skills to my conversation skills with my sister. “Seriously. Saturday will be great. I promise.”
She’s silent for a moment. Then she says, “Okay. Yay! I can’t wait!”
I release a breath and blink slowly. Whew. Bullet dodged. For now, anyway.
“All right. I’ll call you if I have any questions, okay?” I ask, my hand on the handle of my front door.
“Okay! Love you!”
“Love you too.” I hang up as I step out into the early afternoon sunshine. Then I pull the music app up on my phone and hit play on my running playlist.
And I do my best to focus on a successful running session. Not on divorce, bachelorette parties I have no interest in, or hot, sweaty sex with the hot, sexy deliveryman.