Chapter 18
Pace
Sophie and I were meeting again this morning, and I couldn’t stop smiling. Every time I looked up in the mirror, a big old grin painted my face. I was determined to continue the success of our trip to the gym last week.
I’d replayed every moment repeatedly. We’d marked something off the list, and that was a huge accomplishment.
It felt like something had shifted. I had been so fiercely protective of her when those people had talked to her.
I felt embarrassed by my strong reaction, worried I had gone too far.
But my thoughts weren’t fixated only on how she might feel about my actions, but also on how physically engrossed I was with her.
I kept having to remind myself to ask permission before touching her, as though my hands would just get a life of their own.
Her skin had been so soft. Her scent made me heady and distracted.
Her tentative smiles and nervous laughter made me want to scoop her up and hold her.
She had been so courageous, even though her fears had her shaking.
Stretching her on the mat had changed something in me too.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about how easily she followed my commands, moved into just the right positions.
I took so many cold plunges this week that the guys at the firehouse were starting to worry.
Thankfully, work had been busy and distracting.
By the time we were able to meet again today, I was sure I’d built it up in my head.
As soon as I saw her this morning, I’d remember that I was just here to help and nothing more.
I sat in my idling truck in front of her shop, waiting for her. I tapped my fingers impatiently along the steering wheel, preparing myself to just be cool.
And then she came out, and the breath left my chest. I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror, and I was back to grinning like an idiot.
“Ah, shit,” I mumbled as I moved out of the driver’s seat and hopped out of the truck. There was no denying how happy I was to see her again.
I smiled at her, leaning against the door as she smiled back and waved, ducking her head and tucking back her hair.
She wore a short brown skirt that snugged tight over her thighs and an oversized cream-colored sweater that looked soft enough to wrap a newborn in.
Her incredibly shaped legs were beyond distracting, and I knew all too well how they felt now.
I swore softly again as I went around to open the door for her. It was fucked that this woman would have any issues with self-esteem when she was this stunning. I took the steps to recalibrate myself. I was here to help, not grin at her like some lovesick puppy.
“Is it too much?” she asked, stopping as I held open the passenger door.
Maybe I’d been drooling? I liked the skirt. The skirt showed off the legs, and I really liked the legs.
“Um. No. Perfect. Wait. What?” I asked.
Her dark brows cocked in an amused look as she brought a hand to her face.
“Red lipstick. I thought I would try to knock something else off the list. I watched about twenty tutorial videos online, but I’m worried it still looks like a kindergartener colored it on.
Maybe it’s too much with this outfit, and I don’t even know where we are going.
I think other women look incredible and powerful in red lipstick, but I think I might look like a hussy.
I shouldn’t say hussy because it’s offensive and likely outdated.
” She talked so fast that her breath ran out by the end.
I noticed now that her lips did seem brighter today, fuller, more distracting. Red lips . . . were trouble. They made you think of places they would look good wrapped around. Having even more reason to look closely at her mouth was a blessing and a curse.
“May I?” I asked, lifting a hand hesitantly to her face.
Her eyes widened as though I were an approaching spider, but ultimately, she nodded her consent.
I cupped her jaw gently, thumb hovering above her mouth as I threaded my fingers to cradle her head, gently turning it from side to side.
I swallowed with effort. Having her this close sent sparks of heat crackling down my spine.
Her scent, freshly showered, and still slightly damp hair at the nape of her neck drove me to wild thoughts.
I stayed focused on my task even as her eyelids fluttered with the intimate embrace.
“Looks almost perfect to me,” I said. “Just one spot here . . .” My words trailed off softly.
One area near the corner of her mouth was slightly outside the bounds of the lines, and I carefully wiped at it with my thumb.
She gasped, a soft inhale of breath.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Is that better?” she asked so quietly I almost didn’t hear.
“Yeah.” The word was rough as it came out.
I felt the movement of her swallow just below her delicate jaw, still cupped in my hand.
She whispered a soft thanks with her eyes all but closed. Her dark lashes, her pale cheeks, and red parted lips were enough to make me lose track of everything, of what we were doing here. I felt adrift in that moment with her, and it happened so quickly.
If she hadn’t spent so much time getting ready, I’d kiss that lipstick right off.
But then what? How far would that set her back?
This wasn’t about me, and even if I wanted to kiss her until her legs trembled against this truck, I wouldn’t. Not when I promised to help.
I dropped my hand to the door and extended the other to help her into the truck. I pretended not to notice as she blinked out of the moment I had caused.
“Thanks for driving today,” she said.
The morning temperatures had dropped, making it too cold to walk to our adventures, but the bright Colorado sun shone through the windshield, warming the cabin comfortably.
“Of course.” I shot her an easy smile once I was back and buckled in. “We aren’t going very far, but I’ll keep the truck idling in case you need to make a break for it.”
“I don’t remember robbing a bank being on the to-do list,” she joked, and then her face fell when I kept mine serious. “Wait—”
I grinned. “Just kidding. But the bank is the destination. Way to be psychic.”
Her arms wrapped around her middle, and she went quiet as we made the very short drive to one of the two banks in town.
“That was high on the list, right? A less intimidating task,” I said.
“Yeah. But I don’t know. It’s not like I need cash. I mean, who even uses a bank anymore?”
“You’re getting cash for the next fall festival/pumpkin show/farmers’ market, whatever the case may be. It’s better to have cash for those sorts of things,” I explained.
“Is it? Because then you’re fumbling your change and trying to shove it all back in your purse as the person behind you taps their foot impatiently. Plus, everybody has an app these days.” Her voice was still too high and breathy.
“Sophie, breathe,” I said, shooting her a glance.
“One step at a time. I shouldn’t have mentioned the next task.
Right now, all you have to do is go into the bank.
I know you can do it.” But she was too lost in her growing stress to even notice me.
I turned onto Main Street, and already the bank was in sight.
“You’re not coming in?” Her head snapped to mine on a delay. When I glanced over, her features were twisted in worry. “It’s better when you’re there.”
I loved hearing her say that, but I worried it wasn’t what she needed.
“I think the issue is, if I’m there, I’m taking up attention. I don’t know how to turn it off.”
“I don’t think the sun knows how not to shine either,” she said offhandedly. Like she hadn’t just doled out one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me.
I pulled into one of the few spots in front of the bank and still must have had a goofy grin on my face. I could see her replaying the last words she said because she quickly added, “I just meant I know you’re not doing it on purpose. People like you can’t help it.”
“People like me?”
“The winners.”
I frowned, feeling slightly offended but not sure why. “You have the strangest way of giving what might be a compliment but making it hurt like an insult.”
“Oh God, no. Don’t make that face.” She grabbed my hand off the steering wheel and tugged on it until I looked at her. “I wasn’t thinking. I mean, it was like I was thinking out loud. But that’s not even true.”
“It makes sense. I’ve always been complimented on my looks, but it’s not like I do much.” She was beautiful and funny, and it didn’t make sense why she kept talking like we were two totally different species.
“God. I’m just so anxious. I’m saying things all wrong.
You should be proud. You do work out like all the time, and that’s not even what I mean.
I need to stop talking. It’s not just being attractive.
You could be a jerk, but you’re not. You’re very kind.
Like I also mentioned, social interaction ninja.
Sorry, this is coming out all wrong. I’ve spent my whole life trying to analyze the differences between myself and others, and sometimes I forget that you’re uh—”
“A real person?”
She winced like I’d yelled despite my soft question.
“Yeah, but saying that out loud makes me feel like a huge jerk.”
I turned to look out the window. I needed to take a minute and think about how I would handle this if Levi were trying to express his feelings and ended up saying the wrong thing. Thankfully, I was used to that grump.
“You’re not a jerk. I’m a flawed person though,” I said.
I could tell her how off I’ve felt lately, how much I worried about being enough for people.
I could share that I wasn’t even close to being the “perfect” person she seemed to think I was.
But the words wouldn’t come. I just wanted to keep her looking at me like the way she was now.
“Because of your weird monster feet? Sorry, that flaw was fixed after some, albeit major, physical labor.”