Chapter 1
Lainie
“I’m so nervous.”How did I talk myself into this?This was a terrible idea. Yes, I’m pounding my head (lightly) against my steering wheel doing my darndest to get out of the car and walk into that shop to do what I set out to do. Pulling in a breath for courage, I decide to change my mantra to something that will actually help me get my big buttocks out of this vehicle. So, here goes.You can do this, Lainie.You’ve been thinking about this for weeks. (Well, two weeks but that’s weeks. Right?)You’ve done your due diligence. And by that, I mean I surveilled this place like a common criminal. But at least I know what I’m walking into. “Open the dang car door, Lainie. You. Can. Do. It.”
I push open the door to the old blue Honda I borrowed from my baby sister. It creaks so loudly it’s like it’s screaming in pain. Well, it might be. Bessie’s old. I got her when I was sixteen and she was old back then. I gave it to Keely ten years ago because I didn’t need it anymore––you know, since I was going to be married. Forever. Ha! That’s a joke. Luckily, Keely has kept her running by sheer will alone—oh, and a little duct tape.
Stepping one pink Mary Jane wedge onto the ground, I hesitate. “You’ve got this, Lainie,” I whisper under my breath. Lifting myself up, I place the other foot on the ground beside the first one. Looking down at my feet, I smile. “Gosh, I love these shoes.” I reach back into the car to grab my purse, with my notebook and pen inside, but it’s no longer on the passenger seat. I scan the small space and spot it on the floor in front of the seat. I slide further into the car and reach until my fingertips brush against the handle. It’s then I hear the sound of a man’s voice.
“Well, hello sweetheart.”
I freeze momentarily but then I turn my head in time to see a big blonde Thor-like man looking down at my backside. I look back at what he sees and squeak.Great. Just great. I’m showing a lot of skin and a sliver of white granny-panty. Scooting out of the car, I push down my blue dress with the pink polka-dots. “Oh, um, yes. Hello.”
Before I can say another word, he jumps in, nodding down at Bessie. “You know, we only work on bikes here but, for you, I’d make an exception.” He says all that and then tops it off with a wink and a smirk.
He’s cute.Reallycute. But I’m not here to gawk at men. I’m here to work.Right. Get on with it, Lainie.“I’m here to interview…”
“An interview?”
“Yes, I…
“Well, then, beautiful. You’re going to want to talk to Keeton.”
“Keeton?”Beautiful?
“Keeton Gustafson. The owner.”
“Oh, right. The owner. Keeton. Yes, I’d like to speak with him. Keeton. The owner.” Geesh, I’d like to slap my own dang self.Shut up, Lainie. You sound like you were dropped on your head as a child. Clearing my throat, I watch him turn and take steps toward the huge brick building, so I follow the big hunk. I can’t help being mesmerized by his round bottom and muscular thighs. Mm, I love muscular thighs. My ex? He didn’t have muscular thighs. Or muscular anything for that matter.
“Do you always repeat people?”
I’m pulled from my memories of Lewis, my ex, by his question. “Huh? What?”
“I said. Do you always repeat people?”
“Repeat people?” What is he talking about?
He starts to chuckle and it’s a nice, deep rumbling sound. Ooh, that was good.Deep rumbling sound.I need to write that down. As I walk, I start to dig through my purse for a pen. I guess I wasn’t paying attention because the guy stops suddenly, and I run right into him. “Oops, sorry.” Gosh, I’m such a dork.
“No problem. You can bump that curvy little body against me any time.”
I blush. I know I do because I feel the heat rise up from my chest into my cheeks. I’m not used to people saying things like that to me. Men, especially. I mean, I’m not tragic looking or anything, but I’m also no model. God, what am I saying? I’d have to lose about eighty pounds to walk the catwalk. I give myself an internal eyeroll.Yeah, like that’d ever happen.No matter how many times Lewis signed me up for gyms and weight loss programs in the ten years we were married, it never worked. Actually, I think Igainedweight––caused primarily by stress eating. The stress of trying to be something I’m not for a man who was all about appearances.
Shaking my head, I look back up at the blond giant. “What did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t.” He smirks. “It’s Eric.”
“Eric,” I repeat.
He chuckles again. “What’s yours?”
“My name?”
He nods.
“Lainie.”
“Okay, come on, beautiful Lainie. Let’s go see the boss-man.”
