Page 11 of Sweet Caroline
“I mean, yes, Caroline, no to…” Juggling her water bottle and phone, she pulls a thick-looking hoodie out of her gym bag. “Sorry, I just really hate that song.”
Shit.She probably gets calledSweet Carolineall the time. And I should know better; I’ve had more than my share of song references because of my name. Regret flits through my stomach and I drop my gaze to her feet.
“Oh, uh,” I start. “Your shoelace is untied.”
“Oh?” She looks down, moving like she’s gonna fix it, but stops when she realizes her hands are full. “Okay, I’ll get it in a minute, I?—”
“Nah, I got it.” On impulse, I swing my gym bag out of the way and kneel. It’s only when I’m halfway through tying her shoe that I realize I’ve just met this woman and I’ve literally dropped to her feet. And,God damn, now her beautiful legs are inches from my face and all I wanna do is slide my palms up these perfect calves…
I swallow, my movements slowing as I snug the bow tight. I flick an uneasy glance upward, catching the surprise in her expression.
What’s wrong with me?
“Um, thanks,” she says, her voice a little breathy.
C’mon, Miles. Be less of a wang. Fix this.
Slowly, I push to stand, but can’t seem to tear my eyes from hers as I straighten to my full height. When the elevator door opens, I force myself to put some space between us and follow her through the lobby. Momentarily distracted by the sight of her ass in those yoga pants, I have to rush to grab the door for her, willing myself to get my shit together.
Outside, the sun hasn’t come up quite yet, but the sky is already glowing in warm tones that contrast with the crisp fall air.
“So, you hateSweet Caroline, huh?” I ask as she turns to face me on the sidewalk, her blonde curls catching the golden, orangey light. “Is that ’cause you’re not sweet, or what?” When she hesitates, I forge ahead, hoping I can smooth things over. “Or you don’t like classic party songs? Or did Neil Diamond, like, murder your second cousin or something?”
“Can’t believe you’d bring up the unsolved murder of my second cousin.”
Her grin is infectious, and I’m flooded with relief that I seem to have swervedawkward weirdoand landed onawkwardly charming weirdo. She’s doing nothing to dissuade me, even if every flirtatious word falling out of my face goes against my better judgment.
“Wow,” I say, rocking back on my heels. “I’ve really done a number on you, huh? First I put my foot in my mouth about your name, and now this.”
“Right? I’m gonna have to unpack this in therapy later.”
“Rough!” I laugh, clutching at my chest like she’s wounded me. I can’t tell whether she’s got a snarky, teasing side or she’s actually in therapy—or both. Green flag, any way you slice it. “Starting to think you aren’t sweet after all.”
“Maybe I contain multitudes,” she fires back.
Okay, I guess this flirting thingcan go both ways.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, my therapist will be hearing all about you too.”
“Yeah?” Her brows quirk in confusion as she tucks her water bottle and phone into her gym bag.
“Y’know, about how I bravely rescued you from the moaning gym creep.”
“Right, right.” She readjusts her bag on her shoulder, then drapes her hoodie over it.
“Aaaaand then biffed it by being completely unoriginal and bringing up a song you can’t stand.” I take a swig of my water, still kicking myself. It’s one of those small things that doesn’t matter but, thanks to my anxiety, will haunt me nonetheless.
“You didn’t biff it,” she reassures me.
I tilt my head, not so sure. “Rookie move, really, because I actually get the song thing. My best friend likes to find any excuse to torture me musically.500 Miles.Miles Away.I Can See for Miles…” I should stop, but I don’t. “Miles to Go.A Thousand Miles… Honestly, if I ever tell him I’m going downtown, it’s over.”
She squints in thought. “Because you’re… making your way downtown?”
I nod. “Bingo.”
There’s an amused wonder in her blue-green eyes. “How often does that come up?”
“You’d be surprised how much Gus sings. He’s uh… kinda aggressive about it.”
