Page 20 of Love and Lingerie (Rockland Falls 2)

“Pete was good friends with Latham in school,” I say absently.

Suddenly a piece starts to shift, clicking into another like a jigsaw puzzle.

No.

He wouldn’t.

Would he?

“What?” she asks, a concerned look on her face.

Just over her shoulder is the back entrance to Douglas Hardware. Their building takes up half the block, with the lumberyard behind the alley and expanding to the back corner. “Latham.”

Marissa glances over her shoulder to the sign above the door, realization setting in. “You don’t think,” she starts, but leaves it open-ended.

“I do think…”

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

“Win that bid.”

With renewed energy and focus (and a lot pissed off), I slip into my car, make my way to the night drive-up window at the bank and throw in the deposit, then head to the gym. My mind is flying a million miles a second, but it keeps coming back to this one thing: no one else knew about the building being for sale.

Except quite possibly Latham.

No, it wasn’t him who shared this tidbit of information with me in the first place, but his father. Bud might have mentioned it to his son, too. What if that was their intent? To start a bidding war between their business and mine. Well, the gauntlet has been thrown. I’m not walking away. I want that building. I want to expand my dream. I’m not about to let some jackass who sells paint and two-by-fours push me out of the way.

Latham wants a fight?

I’ll give him one.

Of course, I don’t know for a fact it is Latham who’s bidding against me, but whatever.

As soon as I show my membership card to the front desk clerk (that’s pointless, by the way, since we’re in a small town and everyone knows everyone), I head back to the female locker room to change. I rent a locker with my membership to keep my workout clothes in, so I don’t have to carry them with me every day. I change into a black sports bra, red tank top, and black bicycle shorts. When I’m cycling, I don’t want bulky material chaffing my thighs, so I wear short, tight pants that cover all my bits and pieces, but allow me the movement I need. I slip on my favorite pair of Adidas runners, fill up my empty bottle with cold water, and head out to meet my class in the spin cycle room.

Unfortunately, my sour mood is further spoiled when I step inside and find my favorite machine already occupied. And not just by any newbie, but none other than Felicity Charles. The girl who did everything she could in school to get under my skin and take everything I had (boyfriends, mostly) for her own. She’s an obnoxious Barbie doll of a woman, with just as much brains between her ears as her plastic counterpart.

“Oh my God, is that Harper Grayson? I haven’t seen you in forever,” she practically yells in the mostly full room of class-takers. Of course, the hairs on the back of my neck immediately stand up and my teeth start to grind the moment she draws out the last word, as if forever somehow has eighteen syllables.

“Hey, Felicity, how have you been?” I ask, trying not to give her my attention, as I look for an unclaimed machine. This class is wildly popular, and usually almost full, so it only takes me a second to realize there aren’t many left available. Basically there are two: one directly to her left and one right in front of that one.

Grabbing the unit in the front row, I set my water bottle in the holder and head over for a hand towel. Before I can turn around and do a few stretches, her annoying voice pierces the air once more. This time, bellowing the one word that causes me to stop in my tracks. “Latham!”

Spinning around, I find the man I loathe standing at the doorway, a look of surprise on his face. His eyes meet mine, and even though I wish I wouldn’t, I feel the intensity of that gaze all the way down to the apex of my legs. Stupid female hormones. Why must I be attracted to the one man who makes me want to pull my hair out and scream at the top of my lungs? He’s the only one to ever get this kinda postal reaction out of me. Well, him and maybe Felicity.

“Are you joining us?” she coos, hopping off her machine and heading his way.

He looks like he’s two seconds too late to make a break for it, but relents and gives her a smile anyway. “I was heading to the treadmill and some free weights,” he says, glancing at her, but returning his eyes to me. I pretend not to care, instead heading to the front of the room to join a few others in stretching. I make sure to turn my back to him.

And squat.

A lot.

I know my ass is one of my best features, so why not use it to my advantage and show him what he can’t have?

“Oh, you totally need to try spinning. It’s the best workout you can get!” Felicity practically yells. I try to ignore them, but also can’t help to glance their way. Of course, in order to do that, I have to look back at them while I’m stretching – from between my legs. Yes, they’re upside down, but it still works. At least it did until Latham’s eyes land on mine. Even from this position, I can see how dark and full of desire they are, and I can’t help the little tingle of excitement that gives me.

With his eyes still locked on mine (which is really weird now because I’m bent over and looking at him from between my legs), a predatory smile crosses his smug face. “I’d love to join you.”

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