“Mediocre physical relations do not require carb therapy, and any lingering melancholy you see is due to a lack of a new adventure and nothing more.”
Gigi tilted her head. “Something else is contributing to your glow down.”
Lucy let out a sigh. “This new leaf business is boring, and sticking with my plan to respiritualize my life is more difficult than I anticipated.”
“Of course it is,” Gigi exclaimed. “Which is why you should give it up immediately. A staid existence is your worst option and can only lead to an unfortunate explosion down the road.”
Lucy bit her bottom lip and pictured all the fun they usually found—everything from skinny dipping in the lake when there was a full moon to dancing on the tables at the Roadhouse bar. And one couldn’t forget the lengthsthey went to so that their reign as the Trivia queens of Haven went uninterrupted. Those were shenanigans all in themselves.
Wiping the entertaining antics from her mind, she smiled piously. “I’m not interested in making Ken pay for his bad behavior but know that I need to find some kind of outlet for my enthusiasms.”
“I think expanding your horizons is a fab idea, but please don’t underestimate Ken’s obsessive behavior.” She shivered. “The dude is giving off some seriously bad vibes.”
“I can’t disagree but doubt it will become a real problem since he lacks the fortitude to make himself an obstacle in my quest for happiness. With any luck, he’ll have another bird in his nest before month’s end, and all this stalkerish falderal will be abandoned.”
“Here’s to hoping,” Gigi mumbled.
She studied a bauble on her finger and hoped her prediction would come true. Because teaching the man where the hard line was drawn was not something, she needed to add to her to-do list. “By the way, are we still on for Bea’s yoga class in the park on Sunday?”
“Absolutely!” Gigi checked her watch. “Oops, I better run since a client is meeting me in ten minutes.”
A flash of red caught Lucy’s attention, and she assumed Ken was doing his daily drive-by. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“Perfect.”
Lucy waved to her friend’s retreating figure and then strode toward the front, seeing Ken’s red car turn. “Why do men become so fixated after they’re rejected?” Knowing there was no good answer, she walked out the door and checked the pink geraniums that filled the window boxes. She pinched off a couple of dead leaves and then rearranged the display cart she kept at the entrance.
The roar of a motorcycle engine caught her attention, and she looked up, seeing an Indian Black Horse roll down Main Street slowly. “And who might you be?” She didn’t recognize the bike or the rider and tried to remember if there’d been gossip about a new arrival.
She lifted her hand against the afternoon sun and watched the stranger tip his helmet in her direction as he slowly passed. “Swagger to spare,” she muttered as a frisson of excitement skittered across her nerves.
Not sure if she should welcome the sensation, she gasped when the rider parked in front of her mother’s store. “I definitely shouldn’t look.” Spinning around, she rearranged a box of free books she had put together and heard several women giggle. Cutting her eyes to the side, she noted a gaggle of local beauties staring at the newcomer.
It seemed she wasn’t the only one curious about whether the man and machine matched.
Not able to resist, she turned and watched the newcomer push himself off his bike. Studying the man’s broad shoulders and slim hips like an art scholar, she sucked in a breath.
Poetry.
Masculine freaking poetry that was elegant in its brutality.
In Haven.
The sexy brute slid off his helmet, and she let out a disbelieving snort when his lantern jaw was revealed, along with beautiful cheekbones and a mouth so lush that it should be considered illegal. Not able to tear her eyes away, she noted the black jeans molded to his thick thighs and how lovingly his white T-shirt showcased a set of bulging biceps that were definitely not acquired in a gym.
Tan, solid and still.
Who was this alluring beast of a Buddha?
The stranger surveyed his surroundings, and she swallowed loudly when his eyes landed on hers.
Not one to shrink from attention, she pushed herself to her full height, slid her hand over her size fourteen hips, and gave him the same careful perusal he was giving her.
Did the man knock up women by simply sitting close?
It seemed impossible that he wouldn’t.
Dredging up what little self-control she possessed, she tipped her chin in acknowledgment and then slowly strolled into the store on shaky navy-blue stilettos. She closed the door quietly and prayed that the inked-up anti-prince was just passing through town.