She’s got a wild side, too, which I liked reading about. One entry I liked a little too much. She and Brooks went to a gay bar where they had a male wet T-shirt contest. Even though she would’ve been of absolutely no interest to the male bar patrons, she entered the contest, just to be funny and share the experience with Brooks.
Of course, now I can’t get the image of Harlow in a wet T-shirt out of my head.
Gage snaps his fingers in front of my face, making me blink away images of what fantasy Harlow might look like.
“Where’d you go there, Skippy?”
I went to places I’ll never admit. I ignore the nickname, resist calling him an old man, and instead ask for advice. “I probably screwed things up with Harlow. Not just the kissing part…I might have landed myself on the outs with her, even as a neighbor. Not sure how to fix it.”
Gage doesn’t hesitate, spreading his hands on the bar and then ducking under so it rests across the back part of his shoulders. He looks me straight in the eye. “You need a big fucking gesture.”
“Like what?”
“Something more than flowers,” he advises and then straightens his legs to lift the weights clear of the J-hooks.
I move to stand behind Gage as he does his first set, prepared to spot if needed. But I think about what kind of grand gesture I could make that would convey a significant apology.
Once Gage finishes, he backs up to ease the weights onto the hooks. I ask him, “Want to grab a beer later and you can help me figure out just how grand this gesture should be?”
“I’d love to, man.” Gage moves out from the rack so I can take my turn. “But Baden has a friend moving from Phoenix to Pittsburgh, and I promised to help him unload boxes and move some furniture around for her later.”
“Need any help?” I ask as I position myself, ducking to put the weighted bar across my shoulders.
“Nah. He said it shouldn’t take more than an hour. But I can help you with some ideas in between sets.”
I nod, prepared to start. “Just as long as it doesn’t involve me cooking—I’d probably poison her. Otherwise, I’d love to hear your ideas.”
I dip into my first squat as Gage laughs from behind me. An idea springs to mind that would definitely be grand, but I’m not sure it will work. I’ll need to make a call before the next set to be sure.
CHAPTER 17
Harlow
Huffing with frustration, I delete the sentence I just typed. The laptop resting on my thighs is getting hot, an indication I’ve been sitting here too long. It sucks because I have no productivity to show for it.
It’s not unusual for me to work from home at night. In fact, I do most nights. But usually, it’s going through emails I couldn’t get to during the day and calling clients.
Easy stuff.
Not tonight, though. I have to finish a memorandum of law that I was supposed to do at the office today, but I was far too distracted.
I suppose that’s what happens when a hot-as-hell hockey player surprises you with a world-spinning kiss, and sadly, you have to push him away.
Because it was for the wrong reasons and not the right time.
Had Stone kissed me without pain in his eyes, I would have let it go on.
Had he sought me out of pure desire, I would have given in.
But he wanted me as an escape.
A balm.
A distraction.
That was not something I was willing to be for him.
“Damn it,” I mutter as I swing off the couch and put the laptop on the coffee table. When I stand, so does Odin, who’s been curled up on the love seat across from me. He steps off the small couch, leaving behind a smattering of hair, but that’s part of loving a Bernese Mountain Dog. I keep coverings on my throw pillows and couch cushions and wash them regularly, but it’s never occurred to me to not let him on the furniture. He sleeps in bed with me at night too. While all the Alston dogs throughout history have been well trained, they’ve been true family members and have no barriers within the house.
Usually not a problem, but it is annoying that Odin is obligated to follow me into the bathroom every time I go.
He pads behind me as I head into the kitchen. My anxiety thrums because I can’t stop thinking about the encounter with Stone this morning. I’m worried I didn’t make the right decision, I’m worried about him, and I’m worried that I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if I’d let it go on.
He’d said, You can be damn sure it would be good for you, and that shot straight to a place that caused an ache I haven’t felt in, well… ever, really. Not like that.