Not that she hadn’t tried for more. In fact, for a while, she’d dropped enough hints to form a breadcrumb trail straight into her panties. But either Hewitt Birch was so slow on the uptake that she would have had to reach down his jeans and grab his balls to make him realize she was open to the idea of them exploring something beyond friendship, or he’d intentionally ignored her overtures.
Since Hew wasn’t an idiot, she’d had to accept it was the latter.
She’d been disappointed, of course. But having Hew as a friend was a far cry better than having him as nothing at all. So it’d been three weeks since she’d batted her lashes at him or slid him a smile meant to entice.
“I’m putting this lotion down in the half bath.” Eliza held up the bottle to show Hew what would heretofore be off-limits to him. “It’s expensive. I don’t want you single men using it for alternative purposes.”
“Speakin’ of utilizin’ things for alternative purposes,” Hew said casually in that delicious Mainer accent. “Thought I heard something ’bout you and Fish usin’ the treadmill for activities other than exercise. Remind me to take a pack of sanitary wipes the next time I head to the gym.”
“We’re better off hosing the whole place down with bleach,” Sabrina quipped. “I still have plenty left over from when I had to pour some into my eyeballs after I caught them in flagrante with the cardio equipment.”
Hew chuckled. And the sound made her stomach dip like she stood on the roof of one of the city’s skyscrapers.
Fisher lifted a contradictory finger. “What Eliza and I were doing qualifies as exercise. It certainly got my heart rate up.” Eliza smacked him on his chest. “And are all social media gurus as snarky as you, Sabrina? Or did we just get lucky when you arrived on our doorstep?”
Before Sabrina had landed in Chicago, the Black Knights hadn’t known they needed someone to run their social media accounts. But within four weeks of taking over the job—the least she could do to repay them for her upkeep—she’d shown the Knights what they’d been missing.
Using every ounce of know-how she’d gleaned from ten years in the business, she’d taken Black Knights Inc. from a well-respected chopper shop known to the ultra-wealthy inside the custom motorcycle community to a household name.
Because of the photos and videos she posted to Facebook, Instagram, Bluesky, and TikTok, not to mention the YouTube channel she’d started, everyone who was anyone now wanted a custom BKI creation.
“We’re all this snarky,” she informed Fisher. “It’s dark times on the internet, and we who must enter into the abyss tend to find humor where we can.”
Fisher snorted, and the gang splintered into little knots of conversation since it appeared all the tea involving Fish and Eliza and the treadmill had been well and truly spilled. Sabrina used the noise as cover to sneak a surreptitious look at Hew.
Since they’d returned from the bar, something had seemed slightly off with him. She might have thought it was her introducing him to Martin. But Hew had been nothing if not polite.
I mean, she thought back now, he was polite after he stood up and made Martin wince like every man winces when presented with so much…Hew.
At six feet two inches, Hewitt Birch loomed. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, with dark green eyes and hair that lived somewhere between red and brown, he looked like a younger, hotter version of Sam Heughan. Add a gym-sculpted body and an ability to focus like a predator stalking prey, and no wonder Martin's first reaction had been to flinch.
To his credit, though, Martin had recovered quickly.
Probably because Martin was wildly handsome himself. His jet-black hair was cut by someone who knew exactly how best to frame his face. The cleft in his chin gave Superman vibes. And a personal trainer had honed his body to physical perfection.
Plus, he was smart as a whip, rich as Croesus, and…for reasons she was still a little confused by…he seemed to really like her.
So why didn’t I go home with him tonight when he asked me to? she wondered.
They’d been on a handful of dates, and she liked him well enough. She was certainly attracted to him—because who wouldn’t be? But when he’d whispered that invitation, she hadn’t been able to tell if the flutter in her stomach was anticipation or fear.
Ever since Eddy Torres had tortured her in the back room of her brother Cooper’s place, the thought of sex felt…foreign. Stomach-churning, even. Terrifying?
She’d lost more than her only sibling back in Charleston last fall. She’d lost the part of herself who laughed easily, flirted freely, loved her body, and let others love it too.
She liked to think she’d been healing since then, though. Working through the trauma. Meditating and reading all the self-help books and even attending a weekly online support group. With the Black Knights’ help—with Hew’s help—she finally felt ready to get back in the saddle.
So why did I freeze when the moment came?
She didn’t know. She needed to know. Because Martin was a good man, and if she wasn’t ready, she shouldn’t lead him on.
“I’m going for a drive,” she blurted, setting her half-full can of sparkling water on a coaster atop the coffee table.
Hew’s head came up. A deep line formed between his eyebrows. “What do ya mean?” His glance slid to the big window. “Why?”
“I have a lot on my mind and do my best thinking in the car.”
Her new-to-her Prius was her sanctuary. With the music on, road ahead, thoughts untangling mile by mile she could almost convince herself that she was back to normal.
