BRADLEY

I’m staring at the coffee table in my apartment. There are two piles of paper in front of me, and my eyes shift between them. First one, then the other.

I size them both up, debating which problem to tackle first. It feels a bit like The Matrix. Except instead of choosing between the red and the blue, I have to take care of both.

I pull one stack closer to me and skim it over. It’s depressing as hell. Over the last few months, my business partner, Leo, has been growing more and more distant. He’s scheduling shifts opposite mine and canceling catch up meetings that used to be mandatory. Little by little he’s been slipping away, but now, it’s too much to not notice.

Most recently, he showed up to work in a new car. That was the kicker. We make the same amount of money—or at least we should be, since we started off with the same amount of money—and I know he sure as hell can’t afford the Lamborghini he’s driving.

I could barely afford it, and I have years of pro-hockey money behind my back. When we started our gym, Leo put every last penny of his into it, and more. He hasn’t earned enough to buy a quarter-million dollar car with our business, and as far as I know, he doesn’t have a side hustle.

So, the stack of papers is a line item spreadsheet of all our costs, expenses, and revenue, and I’m bound and determined to find out what’s happening. If Leo’s extra cash is coming from the gym... if I find out he’s skimming from me, there will be hell to pay.

After all, this gym isn’t just my job, it’s not my hobby, it’s not my passion—it’s all of them, together. When my knee blew out during the last game I played on the ice, I threw myself into the gym with everything I had. It’s all I have now.

I’d never thought Leo to be a fool or a crook—ruthless, maybe, and sharp. But to try and steal from me would be foolhardy and stupid. Let’s hope Leo’s not stupid. For everyone’s sake.

But just in case, I’ve been looking around. I even talked to a real estate buddy of mine to see if there’s any new space for a gym near here. Even if nothing’s wrong, it might be time for a split. I don’t half-ass my business, and lately, it’s been feeling like Leo’s got other priorities. Maybe it’s time to step out on my own.

A few minutes of combing through the numbers and my head is starting to spin. Back when I was supposed to be learning math, I was for more interested in hockey, girls, and hockey. Emphasis on the hockey.

There’d been a few girls along the way, but only one had ever meant anything to me. The one who’s been there all along. Lexi Monroe.

And now, she hates my guts.

I exhale with a whoosh and turn to the second stack which, speak of the devil, has her name scrawled across the top of it. Underneath it is a book called The Best Restaurants of the Cities, a pamphlet called Taste the Cities, and a print out of Yelp’s top ten eateries in the local area.

They all suck.

I’ve been tearing my hair out for a month trying to find a place just right for us. For her. None of them are good enough. I’ve got one shot to make things right with Lexi, and I’ll be pissed if I blow it because the food tastes like butt cheek.

I see the way she’s been avoiding me this past month. I’ve been trying my damndest to run into her—hell, I’ve been late to work for the last three days because I know her schedule by now and try to time my trips into the hallway. But every time there’s the threat of her running into me, she slams the door in my face and pretends she’s forgotten her purse inside.

Now a month has gone by, and she’s probably thinking I’ve forgotten all about our date, when the fact of the matter is that it’s the polar opposite. I’ve been thinking of her while at the gym, at home, in the shower, before I fall asleep at night... and I’ve been thinking about the restaurants, too.

“Lexi Monroe,” I mumble, scrolling through the list of restaurants again. “Where the hell would you like to eat?”

My musings are interrupted by a furious pounding on the door. It’s not a knock, it’s not a light tap, it’s hardly even a pound. This is a thunderstorm annihilating my door.

I leap to my feet, glance down, and discover I’m still shirtless. I’ve got jeans on and was previously debating going to the grocery store, but hadn’t made it off the couch yet. Instead, I ordered pizza. Maybe that’s the pizza. If it’s the pizza, my delivery guy sounds pissed.

I check the peephole, just to be safe, and discover that it’s no pizza man standing out there—it’s Lexi Monroe. I briefly wonder whether she’ll appear every time I mutter her name. Could be convenient, depending on how things go between us. It’s like magic.

“Hello?” I pull the door open so quickly she falls partway through it. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“How do you blow off steam?!”

“Excuse me?”

Lexi storms through my apartment, moving all hunched over and furious like a werewolf. She goes straight to my refrigerator, yanks the door open and looks inside, then closes it with a frown.

“Are you hangry again?” I ask. “I have a pizza on the way.”

She gives me the death stare.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “Didn’t mean it.”

Next up for scrutiny is my dish drying rack, which contains nothing except for a mug and a bowl used for cereal this morning. She gives up, turning her rampage toward the living room.

Her eyes land on the coffee table at the same moment as mine.

I leap for the stacks of paper.

She leaps faster.

It’s a good thing I’m bigger.

She snaps up the stacks in her hand first, but I’m right there next to her. Lexi brings the papers around her back, but that only gives me a reason to put my hands there, too.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I’m pressed against her, my arms resting over hers, keeping her fingers clasped tight so she can’t get a glimpse of her name scrawled all over my papers.

She remains quiet, but her breathing is heavy. Little puffs of air hit me in the chest, and I’m struck by how petite she is. Maybe not in the general world of women—she must be just over five and a half feet or so—but next to my six foot three frame, she’s tiny.

“Lexi.” I gently tease the papers away from her, but this sets off a chain reaction. I move closer, our bodies aligning one another from head to toe. I could kiss her now, if I wanted to. God help me, I want to kiss her, but I don’t want a slap across the cheek, so I refrain. “What are you doing here?”

Her shoulders slump, and to my surprise, she leans against me. She forfeits the papers and her hands fall to her sides. It’s an odd, one-sided sort of hug, and I’m stuck patting her on the back because I don’t know what else to do.

“I’m sorry.” She straightens, but her hands come up to clutch at my arms.

Her head rests against my bare chest, and I decide to forego my concern with the papers. If I’m not mistaken, she’s on the verge of tears. I drop the stacks onto the couch.

“Hey, talk to me.” My hands come up and rest on her shoulders, and it’s almost like no time has passed at all. “Don’t you remember when Jimmy Schroeder dumped you in seventh grade? You cried to me for hours about it. What’s so different now?”

“What is so different?” she asks, her eyes shining as she looks up at me. “Why are things different between us?”

I raise a hand, brush a thumb over her cheek. “They don’t have to be.”

Apparently, this is the wrong thing to say because her back straightens, she stands up taller, and steps back. “Yes, apparently they do.”

“Why’d you come here today?”

She blinks, as if the question is a confusing one. “I don’t know.”

I move around her, gather the papers, and shove them under the couch cushion. Then I sit on the couch, daring her to reach for the papers. She would have to go through me to get to them. Let her try.

“You get angry, or upset, or nervous, right?” Lexi’s clearly back onto this whole burning off steam thing that’s bothering her. “How do you get rid of that? You know, decompress from your stress?”

“How do I burn off steam?”

“Yeah.”

“I go to the gym.”

“I hate the gym,” she says. “The only time you can plan on seeing me running is if I’m being chased. Or if there’s coffee. I might run for the right latte.”

I stifle a smile at her blatant honesty. I don’t know how the woman manages to look the way she does without the gym. Despite her petite frame, there are plenty of curves to make a man go wild. I should know—I’m a man, and I’m looking at her now. We’re alone in my apartment, and if this conversation were going any differently, I’d be looking to take things into the bedroom real fast. Or the couch. Or the dining room table. Whatever she preferred.

“I work out in the gym,” I clarify. “But if you don’t like getting a workout in the gym, I can think of other ways to get your heart rate up.”

I wink at her, my point coming across. I’m sure she gets it because she lets out a groan, as if it’s a bad joke.

“Besides sex,” she says. “I need something else.”

“What’s wrong with sex?”

“Uh, besides the fact it’s best with another person? Nothing.”

“There are ways to take care of yourself. Please tell me you know this.”

Her jaw is hanging so far open that it nearly hits her chest. “Of course I know how to give myself an orgasm. That’s not the point. I’m trying to prove to Sasha and Kitty that there are other ways of releasing stress.”

I lost the second half of what she said because I’m too focused on the word orgasm. Her mouth puckered into the cutest little ‘o’, her voice rising along with her frustration. A pinkish tinge lands on her cheeks as she works herself into a tizzy.

She’s not the only one losing control, though. It’s a good thing I’ve got on real pants because if not, we’d have an awkward situation on our hands.

“You’re not even listening to me!” She crosses her arms. “You’re thinking about sex.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Fine. You’re no help. I’m leaving.”

“Wait—” I rise, reaching for Lexi’s hand. I catch it before she can take a step toward the door, and she rebounds so quickly she curls right into my arms.

I hold her for a second, my hands grasping her shoulders, her curvy waist pressed against me. She inhales a sharp gasp, but she doesn’t look away.

“Why’d you really come here today?” I lean close to her, my breath teasing across her ear. “You came here to ask about blowing off steam and dismissed the gym. You blush, or get all defensive, the second I mention sex.”

“Because I didn’t come here to sleep with you. I came here to—”

“Spy on my fridge?”

“Sorry.” She has the decency to cringe and look sheepish. “I was in a rage.”

“My poor fridge. I swear it’s not always empty.”

“It’s not empty. I definitely saw a bottle of ketchup.”

“To be fair, the bottle of ketchup is empty.”

She smiles and eases from the battle, if just slightly. Then, with a second punch, she hits me when I’m not ready. “Why haven’t you called me?”

“I, uh—”

“Did I do something so horrible that you changed your mind from the elevator until now? It’s been a month, Bradley.”

At first I’m stunned. With her words, I realize I’m not the only one counting the days. Then, I realize how ridiculous this whole situation is. I throw my head back and laugh.

Her piercing green eyes land on me, sharp and clever, and I know there’s no hope in my lying to her. So, I shut up and stop laughing.

The problem is that I don’t know what to say, or how to tell her that I’ve been thinking about her nonstop for a month—hell, I’ve been thinking about this moment since the day I moved in across the hall from her—and the pressure is astronomical to make our date right.

But if I tell her all that, I’ll sound like a lunatic and blow my chance with her before we even get started.

“Listen,” I say, finally finding her gaze.

She didn’t laugh with me—probably because she doesn’t get the joke. Which is my fault since she’s not a mind reader. A flash of hurt appears in her eyes, and I immediately feel worse.

“Forget it,” she says, taking a step toward the door. “I shouldn’t have come. Sorry about everything.”

“Sit,” I instruct.

To my surprise, she listens. Maybe it came out sharper than intended because she also goes quiet.

“I’m really sorry,” I say, and at least that part is honest. “I’ve been busy.”

“Ah. I see.”

“I mean it, Lex.” I sit down on the couch opposite her. “I still do want to take you out on a date. I promise.”

“You don’t have to say that. I can handle it if you’ve lost interest.”

“No, that’s not it at all. I’m very interested.” I fight back the awkwardness at how forward that is, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Trust me. You’re still up for it?”

“A deal’s a deal.”

“You don’t have to follow through if you don’t want to.” I lean against the couch, slightly horrified at myself. I’d suggested the deal in the first place as a joke, a light-hearted way to get Lexi Monroe back in my life. I’d never imagined she’d take it like...well, like a threat.

These last three years have been too long, and I’m afraid too much time has passed to bring things back to the way they were. But I’d regret it until the day I died if I didn’t give it a try. She may not want to date me, and that’s fine—maybe we can settle for friends. After all, that worked for us for the past several decades, why not the next few?

She runs a hand through her hair and starts to worry me until she offers a shy smile through her frustration. “No, I... I think I’d like to go.”

It’s difficult to control the urges running through me at her words, her smile. I want to swipe the coffee table out of the way and go to her. Kiss her, taste her, help her burn off some steam... if she’s interested.

“But!” She raises a finger, then points it toward me. “There’s an expiration date. You have another month, or the deal’s off.”

“Understood.”

“Unless—shit. Is everything okay?” Her eyes widen, then darken with concern. “We can postpone if you need, or if you have something going on. I swear I’m not a monster despite my nutso rampage in here today. Are your parents fine?”

“My parents are fine, but my poor fridge will never be the same.”

Her next smile leads us to an almost pleasant moment, a truce of sorts. I’m reminded of old times, but again, there are threads of something else in this room. I’m suddenly self-conscious about how I look. I still have no shirt on, and my hair’s a mess. Since when have I cared about my idiotic hair?

After all, Lexi has seen me in far worse—pretty damn close to nothing. We popped our skinny-dipping cherries together during her freshmen year of high school, and the night is seared into my memory as the night I realized Lexi was female.

Who knew she had boobs? Nice ones, too, if I remember correctly. I had tried not to look at her differently after my epiphany about her being a woman. I’d looked at her butt shortly thereafter, however, and her brother had caught my wandering eyes. Lucas had made me pay for it with a fist to the mouth, and I’d given up any hopes of ever trying that again.

Damn it. Now my eyes are beginning to stray.

They’re straying right back to her shirt, a bright blue, pretty thing that’s almost glued to her body. The end of the v-neck falls gently over her chest confirming that yes, she’s still a woman.

And yes, she’s even more beautiful than ever before.

“Are you checking me out?” she asks, a sly smile creeping over her face. “I never thought I’d have to tell you this, Bradley Hamilton, but my face is up here.”

I’m not shy by nature, but I want to crawl into a hole when she thumbs at her eyeballs. Talk about needing to blow off steam—I’ll be at the gym for the next six hours trying to undo the last five minutes. “No, you have... something on your shirt. Why did you come here today?”

“Excellent change in subject. You’re just as smooth as ever.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to talk. What’d my fridge do to you?”

Lexi glances guiltily at the kitchen. “I’m sorry. My diner’s not doing as well as I’d like it to, and I freaked out.”

A small chunk of my happiness deflates, pops like a balloon and fizzles to nothing. Here I was thinking that I’d been the entire reason for her rage. That she cares so much about our date and my lack of communication she worked herself into a fit of rage and stormed my apartment.

I couldn’t have been further from the truth. I feel like an idiot with my lists, my daydreams, the way I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. Clearly, it’s a one-sided relationship.

I’m not used to being the infatuated one—during my golden years with the Stars, Lucas and I had our choice of ladies. Every night of the week, if we wanted.

I never wanted that, and I didn’t take those women up on their offers, but it had been nice to know I was in demand. Over these last few years, my demand has plummeted, and it’s done a number on my ego.

Now, I’m the idiot who’s fantasizing over a relationship that’ll never happen. There’s a reason it hasn’t happened between Lexi and I yet—we’ve had every opportunity to make it work. We went to prom together, and most of our high school dances... as friends.

If she’d ever wanted something more, I would’ve known by now.

I do my best to shake off the sting, to sweep the problem under the rug like I do best. I put on a sympathetic expression and do what friends do—I listen. Lexi’s already gotten started explaining, and because of my wandering brain, I’ve missed half of it.

“...going to raise rent, and—”

“Why are they raising your rent again? Sorry, I was thinking.”

She blinks, as if debating whether or not she should be offended I missed the conversation. “I don’t know it for a fact—I’m going to call my landlord tonight and try to find out what’s going on. I’m worried because today there were two people at the diner who are in real estate, and they were asking questions about my place.”

“How’d you know they were in real estate?”

“Kitty seduced them and forced them to tell her.”

“Ah.”

I’ve never quite understood the appeal of Kitty, but she works for most men. Even Lucas has had a thing for her ever since Lexi brought her home for Thanksgiving.

No, Kitty doesn’t do it for me. My ‘thing’ looks a lot like Lexi Monroe, and if I know what’s good for me, I’ll do my best to change that. If I don’t, I’ll go insane being her male best friend for life.

“She didn’t seduce them, just... had coffee with them.” Lexi shakes her head as if the entire situation is alien to her. “I don’t get how she does it. Maybe if I was more like her, my business wouldn’t be going under.”

“No.”

“What?”

The word came out before I could think, and now I’m stuck trying to backtrack and make sense of it. “No... that wouldn’t help anything. I think you’re great just the way you are.”

She squints at me, as if it’s a trick. Finally, she adds a cautious question. “Really?”

“Really.” I turn back to business because it’s the only safe zone at the moment. “You’ve got an excellent sense of business, and you run a tight ship. Can you imagine if Kitty ran a business? The hours would fluctuate daily... on the days she felt like showing up. It’d be a disaster.”

Her face falls a little, and I feel like shoving my foot in my mouth. I thought that’d be a compliment, but I guess I offended her and her friend. Any chance of our date being a success is slipping away, carried further and further downwind with each passing word.

“Right. Business. But if I looked like Kitty, maybe people would come back,” she says. “She just draws people to her. I must repel them.”

“Nope, no. I can say for a fact that you don’t do that.”

“You can’t talk, Bradley!” She crosses her arms. “You haven’t spoken to me for three years.”

“It’s a two-way street. You could’ve knocked on my damn door any one of those days, and I would’ve answered it.”

“You’re the one who pushed everyone away after your injury. I tried to talk to you. I tried my best.”

“Did you?” I’m lost in the fight, the words pouring out of me. “Did you ever stop to think I lashed out because I was injured and fucking pissed? In one day, I lost my passion, my career, and my best friends.”

“You didn’t have to lose your best friends. You withdrew until we couldn’t get through to you anymore.”

“I’m sorry, then. This is all my fault.”

“No, Bradley, I’m sorry. I didn’t come over here to yell at you today.” Her hand reaches out, tentative, and takes mine in it. “I went into panic mode because I thought I might be losing my business. I came over here because... I didn’t know anywhere else to go. Kitty and Sasha are great, but I just needed...”

I want her to finish the sentence, to say she needed me. To talk to me, to run things past me like we used to do. Before all this.

“I’m sorry,” she says instead. “I should’ve been more sensitive. Here I am complaining about losing my business when you already lost your career.”

“It’s fine,” I growl.

“What happened between us?”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s in the past.”

“Sure it does.”

“That’s not what this is about. Do you think your landlord will sell?”

She’s startled by the change in subject; I can see it in her eyes. But she swallows, moves forward, and we ignore the past once more. “He’s getting older, nearing retirement. I think the chances are high.”

“How much of a rent increase can you afford?”

“Zero.” She wrings her hands, the root of the problem finally weaseling its way out. “We’ve been short on customers the last few months. Can’t seem to retain them, and I don’t know why. Our prices are cheap, food is good—and I mean it; I’m not just saying that. We’re rated five stars on Yelp.”

“I know,” I tell her. “I mean, I know the food is good.”

“How can you know? You’ve never stepped foot in the place.”

I bite my lip at this. I’ve driven by Minnie’s a hundred times, each time more difficult than the last. I’ve stopped in front of it twenty times over the last few years and tried to convince my feet to walk over the threshold and to the counter. To offer two simple words. An apology, and then a breakfast order.

Each time, though, I caught a glimpse of her face just before I stepped foot through that door. She’s always looked so peaceful, so at home there. Smiling pleasantly at her customers, laughing with her staff.

The image looked so wonderful, I couldn’t bear to ruin it—and if she’d seen me, there’s no doubt the smile would’ve crumbled from her lips, and her eyes would’ve filled with hurt.

That’s why I left, time and time again. My heart pulled me inside, yet my brain walked me away. Probably best to listen to the brain. Less complicated than matters of the heart.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, sparing me an answer with the shake of her head. “I know our food is good. Our staff is friendly, usually. Except when I turn into the monster boss.”

“You’re not a monster boss.”

“I yelled at my employee today.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He skips half his shifts because he’s talking on the phone in the alley.”

“First of all, I doubt you yelled.” I smile at her, trying to offer a burst of lightness to the moment. “You saved all of your yelling for me. Now if we could just work out this burning off steam thing together, we could really make for a great team.”

“Are you talking about sex again?”

“I was talking about the gym, but sex could be arranged.”

She wrinkles her nose, but her eyes are teasing.

“Lex, listen. I haven’t been to your diner yet, but that doesn’t matter. First of all, your employee is lucky you talked to him and didn’t fire his ass.” We’re sitting so close to each other on the couch now that I can’t focus anywhere else except her eyes. Bright green gemstones watching me, waiting for the words that’ll make everything better. “I highly doubt you yelled at him. Probably asked him to go back to work?”

“Yeah, sort of, with a bit of a raised voice. I was stressed.”

“Fair.”

“I’m a horrible boss, and my business is just barely making money, and—”

“And you love what you do,” I finish.

This stops her in her tracks. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.” I rest my hands on my legs, otherwise I’ll be too tempted to reach out and touch her. Hold her hand, kiss her lips, all of those other things that shouldn’t be crossing my mind at the moment. “It’s not a job for you, and that’s why you’re a great boss. You run a great business. Most people fail in their first business ventures. Three years in and you’re turning a profit. I’d say that’s not too bad.”

She sits back, lips parted. “You think?”

“I know. In fact, I’m so positive, I’ll come tomorrow and try the food just to prove my point.”

“You can’t say it’s good just to make me feel better.”

I raise my hands. “Not a chance. I take my food seriously.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“I’m three years overdue. It’s about time I try those chocolate chip waffles.”

“But how—”

“I looked up the menu,” I say with a wink. “I’ve been drooling over the photos.”

A conflicted look crosses her face. “But why...” she shakes her head. “Never mind.”

“Why didn’t I stop in?” I watch as she bites her lips, nods. “The truth is—”

Her phone rings, startling both of us. She jumps, pulls it from her pocket, and gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, it’s Rick.”

“Rick.”

“My second in command at the diner—work, sorry.”

I wave her away, watching as she moves toward the door, her heels clicking. She must’ve come straight from the restaurant because she’s got on slim-fitting jeans, heels, and that blue V-neck with Minnie’s printed just over her breast. I know because I looked. Twice.

She turns, offers me one last wave at the door, her eyes filled with regret, and then shuts it behind her.

I follow, lock the door, and hear a screech from the hallway.

“Are you serious? I’m coming in right now. Sorry, Rick. Dammit, Theo!”

I rest a hand against the door, tempted to open it and ask if there’s anything I can do to help. Then her door slams, and she’s gone, locked away inside.

I get the feeling that knocking wouldn’t help anything. She’s on a mission, and I’d just be interrupting.

Instead, I return to the couch, fish out the two stacks of paper, and survey them both. It’s better this way, I think, as I hear Lexi stomp down the hall and call the elevator a few seconds later.

This afternoon, we talked more in one day than we have for the last three years. Sliding the paperwork from the gym to the other side of the table, I pull the restaurant list closer to me and study it with renewed vigor.

If I learned anything today, it’s that there’s something between us. I can feel it, and I hope damn well that she feels it too. If I screw this date up, I’m not sure I’ll be able to forgive myself.

I’ve already screwed up my career and most of my relationships. If there’s even a sliver of hope that I haven’t botched things with Lexi entirely, I’m going to fix it.