“Lilah has plans with Ben tonight. She said she was leaving the bakery at four… just saying. If you don’t want her yelling at you in front of any pretty shopkeepers again, you might want to go downtown later this evening.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” I ask her sarcastically. “I mean, what if I break your sweet little friend’s heart?”
“Pfft. You’re a softy and we both know it. I think Parker would be more likely to hurt you than the other way around. She’s tougher than she looks…” Julia opens her mouth, tilting her head to the side and squinting one eye, “and sounds.”
I mime being stabbed in the heart. “So little faith in me? Not that I’m going over there, but I think I could handle little Parker Thompson.”
Julia snorts and turns to leave. She snaps her fingers and turns back around, pointing a finger at me. “Oh! Don’t forget Sally’s birthday party is Friday night at the bar.”
“Like there’s any chance you’d let me forget,” I sigh.
My baby sister taps her nails on the door frame on her way out. “Love you!” she yells from down the hallway.
“Love you too!” I yell back.
Going back to staring at the ceiling, I mull over what my whirlwind of a sister said. I don’t know if Parker is as tough as Julia thinks. I’ve heard little bits and pieces about her from my sisters at our family dinners. She’s from some podunk town in the Midwest. Her dad was a preacher or something?
I’d be crazy to mess with a girl like that. For one thing, she’d probably try to drag my heathen ass to church. For another, I don’t even know how to date a preacher’s daughter. I’m not exactly Captain Wholesome. Sure, I’m a good choice for the girls trying to get back at an ex or piss off daddy. I’m a great choice if you want someone to make you scream “daddy.” But I’m not the man you date long term.
Even if Julia is right and Parker has a thing for bad boys, I’d bet my fully restored BMW R75 she’s never been with one. She’d probably spend five minutes with me and decide the fantasy was better than the reality.
I’m definitely not going over there. Not tonight. Not ever. It doesn’t matter if Parker keeps popping into my thoughts with those curves of hers. It doesn’t matter that I want to bury my hands in her strawberry curls and kiss her until she’s weak in the knees. It sure as fuck doesn’t matter that the idea of someone else laying a finger on her makes me scowl. It’s better all around if I keep my distance.
I try to put her out of my head as I settle back into my paperwork. I have to track down a part that is seemingly out of stock everywhere. It takes two hours and unfathomable amounts of swearing, but I finally find it at a little shop down near San Francisco. Checking my watch, I balance the time with the traffic. It’s only 2:15 and the drive shouldn’t be more than an hour each way. If I leave right now, I can miss the worst of the traffic around the city.
Popping my head into the work bay, I tell Asher what I’m up to.
“Better you than me,” he replies with a shrug before rolling back under the SUV he’s repairing.
So chatty, that one.
It’s too hot for leather but I’m not keen on road rash so I throw my jacket on before fastening my helmet. My bike roars under me as I drive south, the noise and the wind emptying my mind of everything except a certain curvy little redhead. I can’t push her out no matter how hard I try. I make it all the way to San Francisco and back, though I’m not sure how since the entire ride flew by in a blur.
I just need to clear my head but as I steer my way toward home, I realize I have to ride past Sorry, I’m Booked to get there. I tell myself I won’t even look at it as I go by, but I’m a fucking liar. Beyond the plate glass window, I glimpse Parker behind her counter. She’s wearing a dreamy expression, her chin resting on her hand as she stares into space.
Keep driving, I tell myself as I focus back on the quiet street ahead of me.
I make it two whole blocks before I make a sharp turn down an alley and park my bike. I won’t go in, I tell myself. I just want to see her. I won’t go in.
I backtrack on foot and stand across the street, watching as Parker floats around the shop, dusting and straightening books. She looks… flawless. Coppery curls falling around her shoulders, her eyes are wide and intelligent, and Jesus, those curves. Every step and turn makes her sundress flair around her hips. God himself couldn’t have put together a woman more perfectly designed to drive me insane.
Parker frowns to herself as she shelves a stack of books. Her eyebrows are scrunched up, strawberry lips pressed together, not a smile in sight.
I want to see her smile.