Chapter 8 Jordan
JORDAN
The next customer walks in, the scent of strawberries trailing behind her like a cloud of perfume.
I glance up from the counter, half focused on inventory numbers, and give her my standard smile—the one that’s gotten me into first dates, out of sticky situations, and sometimes both of those scenarios on the same night.
“Good afternoon,” I say, setting the clipboard aside. “Are you looking for something to help you unwind or something to make your worries disappear?”
She laughs, a little too hard. “I’m looking for something relaxing… or distracting.” Her perfectly arched eyebrow lifts suggestively. “You got anything for that?”
I know that bold, flirty tone. It’s an open invitation capped off with a sultry smile. Normally, I’d lean right in and match it beat for beat. I’d toss her a wink and throw in a line that could lead somewhere eventful. But today, her boldness lands flat.
I offer a polite smile and gesture to the tablet. “Why don’t you check out our menu and see what catches your interest.”
She pouts, clearly not used to being redirected. Her gaze lingers on me. “If you change your mind…” She slides a card across the counter like a challenge.
God knows I love a challenge, but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I raise a hand, signaling to John, one of my employees, who just finished up with another customer. “John, can you help this customer out?”
Judging by his grin, he likes what he sees. “I’d be happy to.”
“Thanks.” I grab my clipboard from the counter and head to the back room.
Once I’m behind the door, I stare blankly at the inventory on the shelves. The containers are lined up in perfect order, labeled and organized by distributor, but none of it’s registering. My brain is somewhere else entirely.
It’s not like me to turn down attention. I don’t exactly run from a good time. Hell, I’ve spent most of my adult life running straight toward it.
But lately, that excited spark isn’t there. Because my mind keeps circling back to one person. Ginger .
The woman I’ve known forever. The one who knows how I like my coffee and how to roast me in front of our friends without missing a beat. The one who’s always been safely out of reach and off-limits.
Until recently, that is.
The other night, when we were tangled up in Christmas lights, I swear something shifted between us. There had been a flicker in her green eyes and a pause in her breath that made me think I’m not the only one feeling things changing between us.
I shake my head and scrub a hand over my face. I’m entering dangerous territory here even entertaining such thoughts. She’s not—could never be—some meaningless fling. She’s the one woman I’ve spent years keeping safely tucked inside the “no hooking up” box.
And now, she’s the only one I can’t stop thinking about.
Chest burning and arms trembling, I finish my final rep and rack the bar with a satisfying clank.
“Man, you’re getting soft,” Reed says, stepping out from behind the bench with a grin. “That bar took a nap on your sternum.”
“Bullshit, old man,” I shoot back, sitting up and wiping sweat off my forehead. “I’m pacing myself.”
Reed snorts. “Pacing’s what you do in a marathon. Lifting’s supposed to hurt.”
I stand so he can take his turn. Moving behind him, I brace my hands loosely under the bar in case he needs my help.
Not that he ever has. The clang of weights, muffled bass-heavy music, and the occasional grunt fill the air.
It’s a familiar cacophony of sounds to us both.
We try to make it to the gym after work as many nights as possible.
“So,” he says between reps, “are you gonna tell me what’s up, or am I supposed to keep pretending everything’s normal?”
I laugh. “When have you ever thought I was normal?”
“Okay then, weirder than usual.” He grunts as he pushes the bar up. “You’ve been distracted. You turned down Erin the other night,” he mentions, referring to a regular at this gym. “And bad decisions are pretty much the only kind she makes.”
“Maybe I’m trying to be a better person.”
He racks the bar and sits up, turning toward me. “Are you being serious?”
I nod. “I don’t know what’s changed, but I’m not into it all lately.”
“Into what?” he presses, making me elaborate.
“The chasing, the hookups, and repeating the cycle all over again. It suddenly feels depressing and empty.”
“Maybe you’re finally growing up.” Reed studies me, but not in a mocking or judgmental way. “Or maybe this is about Ginger. Is it?”
I run a hand through my hair, already regretting being honest with him.
“Yep. I can’t stop thinking about her. It feels like she’s everywhere.
And it’s not because we’re friends. It’s becoming more.
I see her laugh, or roll her eyes at me, or try not to look at me when we’re standing too close, and it fucks with my head. ” And my heart.
Reed leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re catching feelings for someone who knows you. She’s known you all her life. You can’t pull your usual bullshit with her.”
“I know.”
“This could get complicated,” he says.
“Tell me about it.” I sigh. “I’ve always thought she was beautiful, but there’s been this invisible line with her I’d never cross.”
“What’s changed?” Reed asks.
“I can’t put my finger on one specific thing. Maybe it’s that we’ve spent one-on-one time together lately.”
“You could try talking to her,” he suggests.
“Or I could not say anything for now. This is a situation I’ve never been in before. For all I know, my feelings could fade out.”
“It’s possible but unlikely.”
My forehead wrinkles with a frown. “Why do you say that?”
“You told me you’re not even interested in flirting with or hooking up with other women. That tells me you’re in over your head. You’re fucked, dude, and I’d bet money Ginger is the only one who can fix you.”
Before I can respond, Drew saunters over in a sleeveless shirt he’s on the verge of busting out of.
“Are you two done gossiping? I’d like to get a set in.”
“Relax, Hulk,” I say, stepping aside. “The bench is all yours.”
Drew piles on more weight plates, making Reed and me look like a couple of weaklings. He lies down, gripping the bar.
“How much are you putting up?” Reed asks.
“Just three-fifty.”
I scoff. “That’s it?” I doubt I’ll ever bench that much weight. I work out to maintain my health, not for aesthetics.
Reed smirks. “The way our baby bro is going, he’ll be lifting houses soon.”
“Hey, you’re no lightweight. You carry around your massive ego,” Drew says, starting his set.
We both spot him, but he moves through his reps like it’s not difficult for him. He racks the bar and sits up. “So, what were you two talking about?”
“How your balls must be shrinking from steroid abuse,” Reed says without missing a beat.
Drew smirks and shakes his head. “You know I don’t touch that shit.”
Reed turns his palms up. “So you say.”
Leaning down, I study Drew’s face. “Your forehead’s looking a little large.”
Drew laughs and bumps me back a step as he stands. “You two should give up. You’re never gonna get me to react.” He smirks and walks away.
I wait until he’s out of earshot. “Do you think he’s right? Is it impossible to piss him off?”
“Hell no.” Reed grins. “It just means we need to work harder to figure out his weakness.”
I shake my head. “I really thought the steroid accusation was a sure thing.”
“I know, right? I imagined him getting angry and then I planned to point out how he was having a roid rage.” He shrugs. “One of these days we’ll get him.”
“Or we won’t,” I add. “I kind of envy him.”
“How so? I mean, besides his seven percent body fat thing.”
“Nothing bothers him. He exists in his happy little bubble. I bet he doesn’t even know what stress feels like.”
“Or he’s just better at hiding it than the rest of us are.”
I bend over, grabbing our bottles, handing Reed’s to him.
“Thanks.”
I swallow a large gulp of water. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough working out. I’m gonna hit the road.”
“I need to use the treadmill.”
I bump his fist. “Enjoy.”
“See ya,” he says, walking toward the wall of cardio machines.
I head outside and get into my truck. As I start the engine, my thoughts land on Ginger.
It’s been a handful of days since we made the edibles, and I don’t want to wait any longer to see her.
It’s not like me to visit her shop, though.
But there’s nothing suspicious about me swinging by to purchase muffins.
As I pull out of the parking lot, I’m already smiling in anticipation of seeing her.