The rival, p.6
The Rival, page 6
His dark hair looks a shade lighter in the golden glow of the morning sun. I admire him for a second longer, but when he pauses to wipe sweat from his forehead, his gaze wanders back toward the house. My heart leaps and I look away, even though I’m pretty sure he can’t see me. My own reflection stares back at me with wide, startled eyes.
What am I doing? Ogling a man I have zero right to? I need to check myself. Alex gave up his summer plans so I could have a place to live—and not even just that. Being here gives me a purpose. A reminder that life doesn’t end when a relationship does.
I gulp down my coffee, trying to wash away the guilt lumping up in my throat.
Eden, Holt, Saint, and Alex have all been so generous to me since the breakup. They’ve provided safety and shelter for me in more ways than one, respecting that I couldn’t go back to that black hole of an apartment I leased with His Name Rhymes With Fail. Since arriving here, I’ve felt so much more like myself. The old me. The before-breakup me. The woman I want to be.
It feels wrong, selfish even, to hog this place all for myself. Once again, I toy with the idea of asking Alex to stay for longer than the weekend. There’s plenty of room for the both of us, I’d reason with him. I know I’m not the only one nursing a broken heart.
I glance back out the window, catching sight of a flash of white against the otherwise green tapestry—Alex’s sweat-soaked shirt, clinging to his skin and outlining the muscles of his gorgeous back.
If only he didn’t have to leave so soon . . .
Maybe it’s for the best. I made myself clear last night, didn’t I? One kiss, and no further shenanigans. Behind the heart-to-hearts and lingering glances, danger lies.
Trying to change the course of my thoughts, I remember that the best way to clear my head is to move my body. I finish my breakfast and head back upstairs to change into a pair of heather-blue leggings and a matching sports bra, which feels a little ambitious given my calorie-laden breakfast. But hey, I have no one to impress.
Out on the deck, I unfurl my yoga mat, pop in my earbuds, and scroll through my phone, settling on some meditative music to accompany today’s flow. If there was ever a time to relax and unwind, it’s now.
I relax into a seated forward fold, immersed in the ambient music. The deck shudders ever so slightly beneath my mat as footsteps near. When I look up, I find Alex resting against the wooden railing, downing a glass of ice water. My heart rate jumps, leaving me lightheaded as my mind tries to catch up.
Our eyes meet, and he gives me a boyish smile. The top of his ears and his cheekbones are flushed, evidence of a long morning in the sun.
I take one last deep breath and pause the music, squinting up at him with a grin. “Good morning, Mr. Lumberjack.”
“Good morning, Ms. Yoga Poser.” He leans back on his elbows and crosses his feet at the ankle. “Did you eat?”
“Yes, thank you. The bacon was awesome. And cinnamon rolls? I feel so spoiled.”
“Good.” Alex nods and then tilts his head until we hear a distinct pop. He sighs, content. “My mom always made cinnamon rolls the first morning of a vacation. And that’s what this is, right?”
“Feels like one, that’s for sure,” I say, nodding.
“It’s definitely one of the happier memories of my childhood.”
His statement packs a wallop, and I have a feeling there’s a story there. But in the bright morning light, I’m not quite as brave to probe him with questions as I was last night, so I ask what I assume is an easy question.
“Did you guys travel a lot growing up?”
“We camped when I was younger. But then later, everything revolved around hockey, and between the house leagues and the travel league, the family trips stopped.”
“I see.”
Alex shakes his head, a small smile forming on his lips. “Sorry. I don’t know what it is about you, but I feel like I can be open and honest in a way I haven’t been with anyone else.”
My heart stutters at his admission. “You can. Always. And whatever you share will always stay with me.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
With nothing further to say, Alex drops his gaze to my yoga mat. “You do that often?”
“Sorta.” I shrug. “It’s nothing fancy. Mostly stretching. I figure it helps counter how many hours I spend sitting.”
“Working?” he asks.
“Yes, and reading.” After another beat of silence, I gaze up at him. “While I was sleeping in, it seems you were pretty productive.”
He nods, glancing to where I first spotted him. “The firewood is chopped and piled up in the shed where it won’t get rained on. Should be enough for the winter.”
“That’s perfect. You’re flying through your list. Saint will be happy.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
As I begin to stand, Alex reaches out one hand, catching mine and pulling me the rest of the way up. Once I’m on two feet, he lets go with no hesitation. No reason to overthink it. But as he continues his thought, I’m still hung up on how big and strong his hand felt around mine.
“I should be done with my share of jobs soon, so I’ll probably leave tomorrow morning. Get out of your hair and let you enjoy your summer.”
A sudden pang of disappointment flashes through me. “Why don’t you stay?” The thought catapults out of my mouth as soon as it’s formed. I hear myself say, “There’s plenty of room for the both of us here.”
Alex doesn’t say anything yet. He just watches me. So, of course I keep rambling.
“We won’t bother each other, except maybe around meal times. And I know I’d feel a lot more comfortable with someone else here. You know, instead of being alone. This place was supposed to be yours for the summer anyway, and I sort of feel like I messed up your off-season plans.”
Yikes. That was a lot to dump on an unsuspecting guy. A little off script, but Alex doesn’t seem fazed. He cocks his head to the side and stares at me, and even though we’re surrounded on all sides by stunning scenery, all I can see is the blinding blue of his eyes.
“Are you sure?” he finally asks. “That’s a big offer.”
“Of course I am.” I sound a heck of a lot more confident than I am. A gentle breeze reminds me of how exposed my body is, and goose bumps trail down my bare arms and across my stomach.
“Well,” he says, scratching at the shadow of dark stubble on his jaw, “if you’re cool with it, then so am I.”
Relief floods through me. “Good.”
I don’t know where to take the conversation from here, so instead I scoop up my water bottle and rehydrate. Meanwhile, Alex pulls his shirt up to wipe some sweat from his brow, revealing a full buffet of abs that stir a hunger low in my belly. A dark spot on his left pec catches my eye.
“Nice tattoo.” I wipe my wet lips with the back of my hand. From what I can tell, it’s a simple black heart. And it’s exactly where I pressed his phone that fateful night, just after we kissed.
“Thanks,” he mutters, letting his shirt fall back down and rubbing his knuckles against the spot.
“What’s it mean?”
“Does it have to mean anything?” His tone is flat and emotionless. I wouldn’t say that he was particularly perky before, but there’s no question that his mood has taken a downward turn.
“They usually do.”
Alex sighs, turning to stare at the trees, his expression blank. “Do you really want to know?”
Clearly, I’ve stepped on a land mine, and I don’t know if I should double down or try to retreat. “I mean, yeah, I’m curious.”
“Once upon a time, I got it for Eden. Used to have her initials in it, but after we broke up, I got it filled in. Now it’s just . . .” He closes his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.
“A painful reminder?” I take a small step toward him, tilting my head a bit, as if a different angle will somehow unlock the closed expression on his face.
But when Alex meets my eyes, he just looks . . . tired. “Exactly.”
I brush his firm arm with a harmless hook of my right fist. “So, what? Now your heart’s closed for business? No room for anyone else to get in there?”
His eyebrow quirks at the swing, and he chews on a smile like he’s trying not to laugh. “Something like that. We gotta work on your right hook, Aspen.”
“You sure about that? Need to go ice your bruise?”
I wind up for another punch, this time with more intention. But before I can make contact, he twists his body, catching my fist in one hand. This time, his touch lingers.
“Anyway,” he murmurs, gently releasing me. “If you’re serious about me staying, I only brought enough clothes for the weekend. Unless I do laundry every two days, we should go to town so I can buy more.” He pulls at the damp cloth of his shirt, revealing a trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans. “It’s a forty-five-minute drive, so maybe tomorrow we could make a day of it? Go shopping, then grab lunch at the brewery in town. They make a mean burger.”
I blink my eyes away from Alex’s masculine physique, focusing back on the conversation at hand. “I’d be down for that.”
My twenty-fifth birthday is in two days. I was anticipating spending it alone, cozying up next to the fire with a good book or a movie marathon. But I could afford to treat myself to something nice, something that will make the occasion special. I have no idea what the shopping scene is like in town, so I guess it’ll be a surprise. But at least I’ll have good company.
“It’s a date then.”
7
* * *
ALEX
I got in a workout this morning and then emailed my sister back. She’d sent another video of Jaxon learning to skate. I’m probably biased, but the kid is super cute. Now I’m showered and dressed for the day, and am waiting for Aspen to finish getting ready too. Then we’re heading into town.
Yesterday was our first full day together, and I’ll be honest, it wasn’t what I was expecting. First, seeing her in her yoga attire—a figure-hugging pair of leggings and sports bra? It was more than a little distracting. I managed to have a somewhat coherent conversation, but then I needed to go haul wood for another hour just to calm myself down. It was either that, or go manhandle my own wood, and I couldn’t exactly sneak away without being obvious.
It’s safe to say, Aspen Ford is not the woman I thought she was. From my brief interactions with her in her capacity as Eden’s assistant, I knew she was organized and intelligent. But I never counted on her being so open, or so easy to be around. And let’s not forget funny. Aspen is cool as fuck. She’s very likable, and very intoxicating.
Maybe it’s the fresh Canadian air, but something about being here has allowed us both to drop our walls incredibly fast. I feel like I can truly be myself around a girl for the first time in a long time. It’s nice. I’m certainly not trying to impress her or be the guy everyone wants me to be. I’m just me.
Well . . . maybe I am trying a little to impress her. Because hell yeah, I flexed when she was watching me work yesterday. And so what if my mushroom-swiss omelets were on fucking point this morning? Come on, what guy in his right mind wouldn’t want to show off for a woman like Aspen a little?
Last night, I was pleased when she didn’t rush off to bed right after dinner like she did the first night. She curled up on the couch and read her book while I looked over a contract for an energy drink company my agent had sent me. We made small talk, and when I discussed the contract a little with her, she gave me her opinion as a friend and not as a colleague.
Today I want to do something nice for Aspen, tomorrow being her birthday and all, even if I haven’t known her long. She’s alone on her birthday—aside from me, of course—and still mending a broken heart. She deserves to have someone acknowledge it. I guess that someone is going to be me.
I spend fifteen minutes stretching my shoulder with the exercises my physical therapist wanted me to continue with this summer. Thankfully, it feels as good as new.
A few minutes later, Aspen appears, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and an oversize sweatshirt that’s falling off one shoulder. I can’t help but watch her descend the stairs.
“I hope this isn’t too casual. I didn’t pack anything fancy.”
“Believe me, you’ll fit right in. We’re not going anywhere fancy.”
She smiles and slips her feet into sandals, and I follow her outside, locking the door behind us.
As we climb into my car, she’s quiet. Part of me wonders if I said too much yesterday, if I shouldn’t have opened up about my tattoo. But Aspen didn’t seem to judge me for it, and it’s not like any part of my past relationship is some big secret. I have nothing to hide.
I guess I just don’t want my past to bite me in the ass, or make Aspen pull back from this easy friendship we’ve been building. I have a feeling this could be a very good summer, maybe even healing, and I don’t want anything stealing that from either of us.
Then again, I could be totally wrong. What I do know is that this is probably the longest amount of time I’ve spent with a woman without fucking the whole thing up, and I’m not ready for it to end.
“You ready to see the sights?” I ask as I navigate the car toward town.
Aspen rubs her hands together. “Heck yeah. Thanks for suggesting this and taking me with you.”
I chuckle at her excitement. “Don’t get too excited. You haven’t seen the town yet.”
She fiddles with the radio until she finds a station that comes in without any static. “What can I expect?”
“Let’s see. If memory serves, two stoplights. One main street with a few specialty shops, and a couple of good restaurants.”
“That works. A real small-town feel. I’m here for it,” she says, watching the scenery as we pass. There are no other houses, but plenty of large evergreens and a whole lot of blue sky.
“The first time we visited Saint up here, he took all the guys to this pizza place. We couldn’t decide if it was the best pizza we’d ever had, or if we were just really hungry. But they closed down, so maybe it was the former?”
Aspen chuckles. “Maybe.”
“But I’m planning to take you to the brewery, assuming it’s still there. I’m not sure if you’re into craft brews, but their menu was really extensive too.”
“I’m always up for trying new things, so that works for me.”
• • •
Over lunch, Aspen and I stuff ourselves with cheeseburgers and the local grapefruit IPA while seated on a great deck overlooking the water. The IPA is just like I remember it, fruity but not sweet. It’s delicious.
“Do you have a lot of commitments in the off-season?” she asks, helping herself to one of my fries.
I push my plate closer to her, and she takes another. “Some, not a lot.” I fill her in on the kids’ hockey camp I’ll be helping at in a few weeks, and my planned trip to visit my sister and Jaxon, where hopefully I’ll get to skate with him.
Aspen smiles. “Sounds like hockey’s your whole life.”
“Yeah. For now, anyway.” I try not to let this thought depress me. I’ve always loved the sport, but lately I’ve been feeling like something’s missing. Not wanting to analyze that right now, I turn the conversation back to Aspen. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“My story?” She meets my eyes as she takes another sip of her beverage.
“Yeah. Ivy League education. Yoga. Reading. Douchey ex.” I wink at her, and she laughs. “What else should I know?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’m still working on my story.”
“That’s fair.” It’s an idea that resonates with me. Just because you’ve been known for one thing doesn’t mean you don’t want something different. Eyeing the plate of fries, I ask, “You want any more of these?”
With a shake of her head, she leans back in her chair. “I’m stuffed.”
After lunch, Aspen and I venture into a couple of the stores in town. I stock up on T-shirts, jeans, shorts, and underwear at a shop called Sun and Ski. Then we head into a place that sells gourmet food items like homemade caramels and little jars of honey.
Aspen looks around, inspecting each item carefully, while I buy us a tin of candied pecans. She settles on a box of ginger tea and a little moose ornament, which will be for her Christmas tree, she says. Something to remind her of her summer in Canada.
Next door, we head into an adorable shop where Aspen wants to buy everything. A pumpkin face peel promising smoother skin, an all-natural shampoo for shiny hair, and a balm called Sore Muscle Rescue that she makes a happy noise when she smells. But then she talks herself out of it, insisting she doesn’t need any of it.
While she chats with the store owner by the front windows, I sneakily purchase the items and stuff them into a bag.
“One more stop.” I point my chin toward the market across the street. “Let’s grab some more groceries while we’re here.”
Aspen nods. “Whatever my personal chef needs.”
At this, I chuckle. “Believe me, it’s nice cooking for someone other than myself.”
“But if you’re doing all the cooking, I should at least pay for the groceries.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’ve got it.” I’m all too aware of my salary compared to hers, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting her spend her money to feed us.
We pick out a bunch of organic produce and some meat that I can grill for dinner. I sneak in a prepackaged cake mix. I’m no baker, but everyone should have a cake on their birthday, right?
“Anything else?” I ask.
Aspen shakes her head, and I steer our cart toward the checkout lane.
The guy in front of us is focused so intently on the clerk ringing up his groceries, he barely notices his kid, who appears to be about Jaxon’s age, tugging on his jeans. The kid finally succeeds with a pleading whisper.
“Dad.” He holds up a candy bar he’s selected from the stand in the checkout lane. “Can I? Please?”
The man shakes his head. “Not today, bud. Put it back.”
