Not only that, but the red brick road nearly had me twisting an ankle. Driving would have been so much better, faster, and less dangerous.
“Alas,” I breathe aloud. I’m here, even with sweat dripping down my spine, blouse sticking to my skin, and probably looking way more disheveled than I’d prefer, but at least I’m here. The slight reprieve from the trees lining the quaint neighborhood is nice and all, but I don’t think I’m built for this kind of humidity.
I walk up the driveway from the sidewalk and know I’ve hit pay dirt by the sound and visual alone. The only thing I’m unsure of is who’s the man behind the helmet.
“Can I help you?” A woman close to my age greets me with a finger wave and a camera in her hand. I’m barely halfway up the drive and really don’t want to shout a hello. Instead, I give her a slight wave as I continue my path with a haste that has my feethurting. At least I’m not limping. That would really be the icing on the cake.
“Hi, sorry to come at you like this. I’m looking for T.N. I was told this is their forwarding address.” While I’ve been very apprehensive about who the hot guy on the videos with the helmet on is, including his bio on his website, it hasn’t escaped my overactive imagination that he could also be a she.
“Oh, this is going to be great. I’m Juliette, Jett for short.” She holds her hand out to shake mine. “I run the social media and background for the big guy.” Once our hand shake is over, she hooks her thumb over her shoulder, pointing it at a man. He’s in what is safe to assume is welder’s gear. He’s also a mountain of a man.
“I’m Indy, short for Indigo. I’m the gallery manager for Ellery House of Art in Seattle. Is it possible to speak to, well, I guess both of you?” I’m suddenly at a loss of what to do. We’re both standing there, in a sort of a stare off.
“Oh, hold on. Let me make sure he’s okay with it, then I’ll make the introductions.” She leaves me standing there. I use my hand to shield my eyes from the sun and think better of staying in the sweltering heat. I give them the privacy, returning to situate myself under a tree. My shoulder hits the trunk, and I’m sure the bark is putting snags in my blouse. Right now, I couldn’t care less. I’m enjoying my feet getting the slightest bit of a break.
My phone goes off with an alert of a text message. I guess at least it’ll take my mind off what they could be saying to one another. I’m beginning to think being home by the end of the week is going up in flames. I pull my phone out and grimace at the notification.
Miranda: How are things going?
I talked to her nearly two hours ago to let her know what I found, or aptly what I didn’t, and how I was on the hunt for the next address. Miranda is good at micromanaging, even when it’s unnecessary.
Me: I’m here now. His assistant is asking if he wants to meet me. I’m not so sure they’ll say yes. I have to go. She’s walking back.
I quickly close out my app, lock my phone, and drop it in my purse. Jett clears her throat while my head is down, making me feel like I’m out of sorts when it comes to being professional.
“Sorry, the heat is brutal when you’re not accustomed to it. Plus, my boss, she’s hopeful and can’t stand to not have an answer right away,” I tell Jett way more than I should and am semi-hopeful it works in my favor.
“I can’t say whether or not he’ll say yes to whatever questions you might have.” We start on the path to where he’s situated, my eyes locked on him as he takes off one glove. From my view alone I can tell his hand is built for work—broad palms, fingers that are thick and steady, each movement deliberate without ever slowing down. I watch as he takes the other one off. His forearms flex, making it impossible not to fixate on the way his muscles move. Both gloves are off by the time we’re standing within reaching distance, and I can see more of him: sun-warmed skin, veins running up his forearms, subtle yet visible, mapping the strength that he clearly earned rather than was given.
“Toren, this is Indy. Indy, this is Toren,” Jett introduces us.
I’m in for the shock of my life when he flips the helmet up and eyes I remember vividly look back at me, only now I’m noticing they aren’t just a singular shade of blue. Where I thought they were pale and clear, similar to a quiet morning sky after a sunrise, today is a whole different story entirely. The blue of hiseyes is more along the lines of the deep sea, similar to the ocean back home. Richer, steadier, and holding something beneath the surface I can’t quite put my finger on.
A smile tugs at his lips, changing everything. It’s disarming and has me rocking back on my heels.
“You? No way.” His presence was impossible to ignore then, and it’s even harder now. He’s rock solid, unyielding, like a man carved from strength. My gaze skates down the length of his body as he finishes taking off the helmet, in no hurry whatsoever to respond to my statement. And that’s okay because as he places the protection from keeping sparks being thrown in his face on the work bench, I’m able to continue the perusal I missed out on.
His sharp jaw, sculpted, and almost unfair in its precision gives him an edge of severity that contrasts with the slow sinful curve of his smile, one that promises nothing but trouble. Dark hair, just shy of perfectly controlled, falls in an effortless wave, refusing to be tamed. It suits him. Then he does the last thing I expected. He unhooks the leather coverall, and his body coming into view only makes things worse. Tall, broad-shouldered, built. My god is he built. Every movement is controlled, deliberate—and he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
He isn’t just handsome.
He’s the kind of man people warn you about.
He’s the kind of man that makes you ignore them anyway.
“Yeah, cherry, it’s me. Believe me now?” He crosses his arms over his chest. A light sheen of sweat coats his body, and I’m the one left speechless this time around.
“Okay, I’m out of here. See you around. Nice to meet you, Indy. Hope to see you again, and if you need help convincing this big lug to do what you need, give me a call.” Jett pushes a business card in my hand, and only then do I break out of my revery.
“Well, that wasn’t my finest moment. Please, allow me to apologize.” I could kick my own ass. Never in my life would I have put two and two together.
“This I gotta hear,” Toren says with a voice filled with humor. Though I can’t tell if it’s the kind to appease you or if it’s genuine.
“I’m sorry, sincerely sorry for not believing you when we met at The Social. My name is Indy, short for Indigo. I’d blame my curt behavior on jet lag and thinking alcohol would help, but that’d be a copout.” Alex is going to have a field day when I give her the status update.
“Jett said you’re from a gallery. Whatever you’re here to ask, I’m not interested.” Oh, boy, this is going to be tougher than I initially thought, and something tells me no amount of money Miranda has me throw his way will be nearly enough.
4
