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8
C
Istand frozen outside as the guy who lives upstairs turns and storms up the stairs, pissed. God, he’s an asshole! I want to tell him off, but we have to live together so I’m trying to stay passive. Sighing, I go back up to my condo and shut the door. Turning around so my back is against it, I shut my eyes, replaying in my mind everything that just happened. When I came out from under the tailgate, he was staring down at me. I had not seen his face that well yesterday but today when I had crawled out from under the truck, he was right in front of me, just inches between us. When he looked down at me, I could see his face is just as perfectly created as the rest of him. He looks authoritative with a chiseled strong jawline, a scruffy beard with no more than a days’ worth of growth. His lips were full and drawn into a straight line. His scent was intoxicating, a musky earth scent like patchouli. But again, those eyes. Today he was so close that when he looked in mine with his piercing blue ones, it felt like he was trying to reach in and grab my soul. He scares the shit out of me. I felt like that frightened thirteen-year-old girl being choked in the bathroom again when he yelled. But at the same time there was something else, something I have never seen in a man’s eyes before when they look at me. Something I can't even name. Pulling myself together, I open the door and head back down to the truck continuing the task of unpacking. After I have everything upstairs, I call Jenna.
“Hey,” she answers cheerfully.
“Hey, okay if I come over to your place to get ready for Parker's party?”
“Of course. Are you coming now?”
“In just a little bit, I just got done moving some boxes into my new place.”
“Oh, did you see the hot biker?” Her voice screeches so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear.
“Yes,” I say, exasperated.
“How did it go?” Excitement sounds in her voice.
“Not well,” I groan.
“Shit, well, come on over. You can tell me all about it while we get ready,” she replies sympathetically.
“Okay, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes, I have to stop by the shop and get some clothes first,” I explain.
“Okay, hurry up, I can't wait to see you and talk,” she says before hanging up.
I head down the stairs and remove the rock from the door. Hmmm, I will probably need this again, so I place it in the corner inside the lobby. I shut the door, heading for my truck, and drive back to the flower shop. Arriving at the flower shop at 5:30 p.m., Ben has already left for the day. Unlocking the door, I enter the building and head back to the office, where I find Ben has left me a note.
Hey, C.
Hope moving went well today.
Delivered: 4 get well, 4 anniversary and 5 birthday arrangements today.
Invoices are on the desk. Can't wait to see you at Parker's B-day party.
Love ya,
Ben
Putting the note back on the desk. My phone rings. Digging it out of my pocket, I see Billy is calling.
Billy is the VP of the Rush Riders motorcycle club. He is tall, with dark blond shaggy hair, rippling muscles, and a happy-go-lucky attitude. I have never seen the guy when he was not smiling and flirting with me. I met him a few months ago when his grandmother was diagnosed with throat cancer. She is a little feisty seventy-year-old woman with a pit-bull attitude, but Billy is awesome with her. After finding out I sell on the side, he has become one of my best customers.
“Hey, girlie, I need a favor,” Billy comes through the line.
“What's that?”
“I need a zip of Will Robinson tonight.” Emphasis on the “tonight.”
“Okay, what time do you want to meet?”
“I have one problem,” he informs.
“What’s that?” I implore slowly, unsure of what he’s about to throw at me.
“Can you bring it to me?” he asks hesitantly.
