AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s really that I’m too busy to—”
“Aha,” he says in triumph. “So you are attracted to me.”
“I didn’t say that,” I exclaim as I stand from the stool, trying to hold back the twitch of a threatened smile.
“You didn’t not say it either.” He smirks, moving very quickly out of his casual lean. He backs me up into the shelves, putting his hands on the wood at my shoulders, caging me in. “Looked like you were going to escape.”
“Just don’t like having to look up at you,” I counter, still needing to tip my head to look him directly in the eye because he’s so tall. “And back to your original question, the main reason I don’t want to go on a date is that I’m too busy.”
“I’m busy, too, but we can find time.”
“Well, you did just dump a girl today, so you probably have more time than I do.”
“I didn’t dump her on a whim, you know.”
“And you’re already on the prowl,” I point out.
“Not prowling.” He moves in a bit, dips his head a little closer. “And my relationship with Tracy was severely broken. I should’ve ended things a long time ago.”
I hear a bit of disappointment in his tone, and that makes me curious. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because it takes effort to make a relationship work and I tried my damnedest. I’m not one who gives up easily and I don’t ever want to have regrets. Now, I definitely might have hung on too long trying to change things, but I won’t wake up tomorrow with any remorse for finally calling it quits.”
God, I can never let him know that right there would convince me to give him a try. One of my pet peeves is quitters. People who run when things get too hard, and that stems directly from my mom abandoning me because “having a kid was just a little too hard.”
Still, I’m stubborn and unwilling to let him know that meant anything to me. “We wouldn’t be well suited. You’re all preppy polos, and I’m a biker babe.”
Hendrix laughs, truly amused by my description. “Going to have to do better than the way we dress as an excuse.”
“It’s not just the way we dress,” I snap in defense. “You’re just… too… vanilla.”
If he found me funny before, he thinks I’m fucking hilarious as his bark of laughter is loud and deep. His humor wells up from his belly, and he laughs so hard, tears form in his eyes.
Shaking his head, still chuckling, he reaches a hand to tug on a lock of my hair just above my shoulder. “It’s cute you think I’m vanilla.” His eyes lift to meet mine, and his voice drops an octave. “If that’s a true concern, I’m willing to disprove that theory right now. I could have you screaming out my name in far less than ten minutes if you gave me the go-ahead.”
“Less than ten minutes, huh? Not a lot of lasting power, buddy.”
“I didn’t say I’d be screaming in that time frame. Only you would be. Trust me, I’ve got a lot of ways to get you there.”
God help me, but that hit me right between the legs and my throat is so parched my words come out in a rasp. “So, you’re all about a hot hookup then, huh?”
“Did I say I wanted a hookup?” His eyes twinkle with humor, but there’s still a low simmer of heat deep within. “I believe I asked for a date, but we can make it what you want.” Hendrix’s voice drops even lower with a sexy rumble. “I’m very willing to please.”
And I have no doubt he’d deliver if I let him.
I think about the opportunity before me. It’s absolutely true that I work very hard and don’t have a lot of free time, but it doesn’t mean I don’t date. Granted, it’s been a long damn time since I’ve been on one and I might have gotten into a bit of a rut. But the question is, should I give Hendrix a try?
He’s gorgeous, and Harlow wouldn’t have let me take this bet so far if he wasn’t a decent guy. It’s true I think he might be a little vanilla, but the way he confidently challenged me makes me think I might be misjudging him.
All things in his favor, but most of all, I can’t let go of the fact that working hard on relationships is important to him. Not that I’m thinking we’d have anything past a first date, but I respect anyone who isn’t going to run scared when things get tough.
“Okay,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.
“Okay?” Hendrix says, eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“Okay,” I affirm.
“What’s your phone number?” he asks, pulling his phone from his pocket. I watch as he types in my number. My phone rings, and I move to pull it free, but his hand wraps around my wrist and stills me. Hendrix places his phone against his ear and waits a moment, then speaks to my voicemail. “Hi, Stevie. It’s Hendrix. Leaving this voicemail for you to listen to later in case you start having doubts and try to weasel out of our date.” His eyes are locked onto mine, his mouth curved into a boyish smile. “Just listen to this message as a reminder that something happened in the stockroom tonight that made you change your mind about me. Something that made you decide you could slice time out of your hectic schedule for a date. Remember what that was.”
