Page 6 of Single Girl in the City
With a smile, which she had to admit was sexy as all get out, he took her bike and led her to his truck. It was a classic. 1970s. Big cab, bigger tires, and cream with a brown stripe down the side. It was a giant truck for a giant of a man.
He opened the passenger door, and she froze. She looked at the cab and up at him, then, like her meditation app taught her, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.
“That is a battle for another day. Today it’s about calm and tranquility.”
She said it three more times until her heart was back to normal speed. She looked up to find him looking back.
There was a long pause and she braced for the onslaught of questions about her meltdown. He surprised her by not asking a single one, which was the nicest thing someone had done for her since Jenny offered to take her seat at the front of the bus with a couple of hellraisers who had put a fake spider on a fishing line and tugged it down the aisle, causing mass hysterics from the other students.
It ended up being the last good deed Jenny ever did.
Chapter Two
Happy Things:
The phrase “Sh*t show.”
Owen had made a tactical error.
Touching Abi had been a bad idea because it only confirmed what he’d suspected since they’d first locked eyes over the tea shop counter—their sexual chemistry was off the chart. Following up on the awareness was dangerous for a guy whose days—and nights—consisted of keeping the world spinning for a lot of people. But when she’d tried to dodge him in the store, curiosity had won out.
Now it was a concern. Whatever went down in the parking lot had her rattled. Not that it was any of his business.
He had exactly one hour before he was needed at his family’s bar. Deliveries started at nine thirty and the cook staff showed up at ten to prep for the day, and he had two applicants coming in to interview for the open bartender position, leaving him with just enough time to chauffeur a sexy woman around town, one who was as much a contradiction as she was a mystery. Like friendly fire or a cuddly porcupine.
His goal had been to call her on avoiding interacting with him, then swing by his mom’s for breakfast, and head to work. Only she’d taken a spill. A small one but a spill all the same, which ended with trembling hands and what he was pretty sure were the beginnings of a panic attack. Then there were the dark circles under her eyes that advertised more than just a lack of sleep. He’d noticed them before when he’d stopped in at the tea shop for his morning fix.
Sometimes she looked sad and other times, like right then, she looked as if life had chewed her up whole. Oh, she always had a smile for customers, but there was a sorrow deep beneath the surface that resonated with him.
“I could walk faster than this,” she said, that Southern drawl scrambling his brain. Ever since college, he’d had a thing for Southern women. And Abi was as Southern as they came. She was also as stubborn as they came.
“Noted.” He started his truck, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He considered asking her if she was okay, but he already knew the answer.Fine, fine, and if-you-ask-one-more-time-I’m-hopping-out-of-this-truck fine.So instead, he said, “Where to?”
Avoiding his gaze, she shoved her phone in his face, which had the directions to their destination. “Nob Hill,” she said.
“Nob Hill it is.” He pulled out of the lot, sure to keep it at a steady twenty-five. Even then she sat rigidly, ass hanging off the bench seat, clinging to the oh-shit handle as if it were her lifeline.
Following the dictated directions, he turned right, then left, avoiding the highway or any thoroughfares by sticking to city streets. The sound of the wipers and raindrops hitting the windshield created a sense of intimacy.
Abi sat with her eyes slammed shut, whispering “Calm and tranquility,” over and over, the stress in her tone growing exponentially.
“You might want to scoot over before you suffocate or get helium poisoning,” he suggested, patting the spot next to him.
“Not going to happen,” she said primly, moving the balloons between them like the Great Wall of China. Every time he shifted gears the balloons went every which way, blocking his vision.
He craned his neck around a giant cupcake-shaped one and shoved it aside. “Then control your balloons,” he said, noting that the more pissy she got, the less panicked she sounded.
She choked up on the ribbons until he couldn’t see anything but her legs and clown shoes. “My balloons are none of your business.”
Wasn’t that a shame. He had a lot to say on the topic of her balloons. “We talking the perky ones or the playful ones?” A fist emerged through the wall of balloons and slugged him in the arm. “Ow.” He made a big deal of rubbing his shoulder. “Okay, balloons are off-limits. How about why you’re posing as a barista in a clown costume?”
Even in that ridiculous costume, she was pretty in the girl-next-door kind of way. Long brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, face fresh, and a couple of freckles across her nose. He’d never been into freckles, but he was beginning to change his mind. Then there were her eyes, warm whiskey brown and as close to bedroom eyes as he’d ever seen.
She was as far from his normal type as a woman could get. Petite, prickly, and pretty as hell. He doubted she’d say the same. Oh, the attraction was more than reciprocated, but she wasn’t letting on if she was all that interested in exploring it. Which worked for him since his wasn’t in the mindset for anything more than one night and she didn’t strike him as a one-night stand kind of woman.
A few years back, he’d tried for more and had his heart ripped out, along with his ability to trust. He thought he’d found the one with Elena. She was sweet, sophisticated, and so damn beautiful, she’d captured his heart. She’d also captured the attention of his best friend and business partner.
If there was one thing Owen hated more than a cheater, it was a liar. And they’d turned out to be both. He’d lost the woman he could see forever in and his business partner all in one fell swoop. That empty ache in his chest never went away, and he was afraid it never would. He’d learned the hard way that everyone had an angle and a secret, which had the power to hurt. He refused to be on the losing end of that equation again.
