Head Over Wheels (Steamy New Adult Romance) (7 page)

His face went blank, his brows forming the elevens I staved off with glycolic facials, and by avoiding expressions like the one that claimed his face after I asked the question.

"The other morning when we were in line together. I was getting sugar ... you mentioned mocha latte ..." Come on, Jewel. You can do better than that. "The tall girl with the long blonde hair ..."

His elevens deepened. Then his face took the same troubled shape as the day the bitch wedged her body between us.

"You're talking about Vanessa."

"I don't know her name ... well I didn't ..."

"Vanessa's far from my sister." Rolling his eyes, he chuckled.

Go on ... my stare, and my silence, both shouted.

His eyes searched my face, which I knew looked grim. "Vanessa and I go way back. We were next door neighbors ... kind of close growing up. You know, kid stuff and all."

"Yeah. I have siblings ... and childhood friends ..."

"Vanessa was a tomboy, always trying to fit in with the boys."

"Or between," I couldn't stop the crude remark.

He looked surprised, then apologetic. "She's got a way about her."

"She sure does. Almost took the tips of my toes off." I faked a laugh that was way too stiff.

"In her defense, she's been through a lot." His tone mimicked mine. "I'm sure she didn't realize."

I'm sure she did, my brain echoed, but go on, my gaze said.

"Her parents passed away when she was fourteen, and she was shipped off to the Midwest to live with an aunt and uncle. Her world was torn apart."

He was defending her rude behavior ... what ... ten years later? Were her childhood claws still embedded? Was he hooked?

"She managed to pull her life together though," he continued, almost admiringly, "moved back a couple of years ago and seems to be doing well."

"That's nice." I so didn't mean my polite words. "Are you still close?" Stop now, before you stick your foot in your big mouth.

He drew a deep breath, like the world was so weighty, and breathing would ease the cause of the strained look on his face. Sadness? Whatever it was, it seemed like an almost constant shadow, which saddened me.

"She's closer with my mother. I don't see her often. Just when she stops by the house."

Great. Vanessa and Mrs. Ballou were tight. Vanessa obviously still had a deep-seeded interest in Indigo, and Mother was no doubt her cheerleader. Better to let the subject drop, like my face.

I watched the waiter emerge from the kitchen, a tray on his shoulder bearing our burgers, chicken fajitas, fries and drinks. The food smelled delish and I was starving. I had to remind myself to smile – and take small bites.

Indigo broke the silence when he let out a laugh. He dabbed his lips with a paper napkin. "Ah, the pleasant sounds of munching." He trailed a fry across a splatter of ketchup on his plate, then popped it into his mouth. "Somebody say something, please. All I hear is Arkana over there, gobbling his burger." He flipped another fry across the table. It bounced off Bill's arm.

Sealing my lips with a napkin, I giggled. "Be careful of what you ask for." I drew a sip of iced tea through my straw. "We'll be spitting food all over each other if we forget our table manners. Emma knows what I'm talking about."

A hand flew to Emma's mouth, subduing a bite of chicken. She nodded in double-time. "Umm," was all she could mumble. I knew she was visualizing the food fights in our kitchen whenever Pete was around.

Bill snorted. "I'll be sure to talk with my mouth full next time I'm having dinner at your house, Ballou. I'm sure your mother would appreciate that."

Indigo frowned. "You wouldn't be the first of my friends she tossed out of the house."

Not Vanessa, that was for sure. Oh, God. What was Indigo's mother like? The thought of the
mother challenge
had never occurred to me until that moment. At the concept of a future meeting, my fries began attacking my fajita ... inside my tum. With Vanessa up her butt, dear Lord, for sure his mother would look down her nose at me. On the flip side, I wondered if she was one of those:
no woman is good enough for my son
, mothers. Sort of like my dad was with anyone I dated, but in that antagonistic way in which dads were so proficient; frightening the hell out of a date without uttering a word.

T
he meal was over. Not a scrap of food remained on our plates. We sank into the booth, weary from the ride, giddy from continuous laughter.

I was also emotionally worn from overanalyzing the situation. I sighed. "This turned out to be quite a day." And to think Em had to practically drag me here.

"Yeah, it was a good ride ... enjoyable ..." Indigo neatly arranged his glass and utensils on his plate, then tossed his balled-up napkin on top. "You should think about signing up for the next one." His words were more of a request than suggestion.

"The next one?" I gulped.

"We're riding for Juvenile Diabetes next month."

"Are you a promoter or something?" My eyes strained.

"Yep. It's the last semester of med school and ... rather than behaving like drunken savages," he chuckled, "some of us decided to put our free time, although limited, to a better use. Cycle For Health. An organization we cooked up." He grinned. "Doing things for sick kids, keeping healthy ones on the right track. Since I'm specializing in pediatric medicine, it seemed to fit." His eyes were so soft, his voice so genuine.

“That’s really amazing, Indigo.”

“Kind of like you being a cop, Jewel. We’ll both be public servants.” He winked.

Without trying, this guy kept blowing me away, piece by piece. How much more could I take before I crawled into his lap and planted a kiss on those inviting lips? It was said, the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. In my female opinion, tenderness was more masculine that bulk. And this guy had both. I analyzed his hands, so clean, so strong, so steady. Precise: that was it.

Those sensitive hands would love a woman. Heal sick children. The girl who landed Indigo would be fortunate. He seemed to be everything anyone with half a brain could ever want. And I wanted him with all of my brain, all of my body. From the first moment I set eyes on him, something said, "He's the one." But I doubted he'd be in the market for a serious relationship for a long time.

I saw Bill lean close to Em's ear, and figured he was asking for her number. Sure enough, as her mouth moved, his fingers pushed buttons on his phone. I wondered if Indigo would ask for my number. The day was winding down. So was I. A gnawing letdown began to dampen my mood, but I maintained the grin that felt pasted on my face as I pushed my plate closer to the center of the table.

"Looks like it's time to hit the trail." I handed Indigo his helmet, then reached for mine.

"Thanks. I really had fun today." His eyes scrolled over my face, as though he was memorizing every feature he studied.

"Me too. I hope you know this meal calls for three more hours of suffering at the gym." I grimaced.

"Or another day of cycling." His eyes stalled on mine.

I waited for the invitation, but all he said was, "I ..." and hesitated as he held the helmet on his thigh, flipping the strap back and forth as though contemplating one of the biggest decisions of his life. Then without notice he slid from the seat and stepped aside, waiting for me to slip out.

Concealing disappointment, my voice was airy. "No prob."

Kelly's was recovering from an active day. Servers performed last-minute chores before shutting down the indie
Starbucks
café for the night. As we meandered to the front door, I noticed the "Open" sign had been flipped to read "Closed" on the outside.

The sun, diving behind high-rise buildings, burned streaks of purple and red in the fading blue sky. Shoulder to shoulder, Emma and Bill strolled to their bikes. Separated by mere inches, Indigo and I tagged along. He cradled his helmet. I swung mine.

"The food here is great. I'm stuffed." He patted his well-defined abs, then stretched, bringing one arm to the back of his neck as though to rub an aching muscle, which I would have loved to massage for him.

"Me too." I scuffed my sneaker on sidewalk grit, then inwardly cringed at behaving like a two-year-old.

We stood side by side, kind of mumbling into the air. Then he turned, confronting me head on. "It's a great evening." His chest expanded when his lungs filled with air.

"Bound to be a beautiful night." I led him in the right direction, hoping he'd invite me for a walk, or at least take my number.

He tilted his head. "So, what do you do on weekends?"

I blinked up at him. "Umm. Church and ... sometimes Poughkeepsie."

Eyes never leaving mine, he nodded slowly.

"You?" I tried to relax my facial muscles.

"Dinner with the family now and then. Sometimes an early movie for downtime before the chaos strikes again."

"With your parents?" My voice hitched.

He chuckled. "I don't go to the movies with my parents." With the softest touch, he lifted strands of hair caught in my lashes. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"I don't normally plan."
Liar ...
"I'm spontaneous."

He laughed. "I should have seen that coming." His tone deepened. "Maybe you're on to something. I imagine acting on impulse can be a lot more exciting than plans that don't always work out."

We ambled toward our bikes, our bodies so close our hands brushed. I had a feeling, at any moment, his would take hold of mine.

"I do like going to the movies ... especially on Sundays. I find it completes the weekend."  I braced myself, giving him an opening. "What kind of movies do you like?"

Before Indigo had a chance to reply, the rev of an engine broke the evening calm, and the Harley quieted beside the curb. Pete swung a leg over the bike, just as Emma's head whipped around.

"Pete..." I held my voice to a low screech. He had said he'd stop by the bike-a-thon, not Kelly's.

Leaning against the bike with crossed arms, bulging biceps, equally large triceps, he struck his usual tough-guy pose. He wore jeans and boots and a black muscle T-shirt. And he was pumped. His shades were pulled up onto his forehead, his longish hair coiled. He looked like one delicious hunk. And he was staring directly at me. Then his stare glided deliberately from face to face, and a smirk plucked at his masculine jaw line.

"What's up?" He focused on me with heavy lids, and performed a head-hitch that could have snapped his neck if not for the straining tendons supporting it.

Indigo stopped dead in his tracks, his stare sliding from me to Pete. I could feel his confusion, the tension hanging in the air.

Pete's possessive behavior was horrifying. "Just back from the bike-a-thon." I kept my tone even.

"How was it?" More male posturing.

"Terrific," Emma called to him. "What are you up to?"

"Not much. I would've joined you, but ..." He slapped the Harley's leather seat with his palm. I watched his eyes rake over Indigo then trip over Bill before working their way to Em. He shot her his usual disarming grin.

"And how did
you
find today?" As he returned to me, the smirk on his face said he intended to say, what did you
find
today.

I glanced at Indigo, whose face was inflexible, then remembered my manners and peered up at him. "The wise-guy is Pete." Then I called out in a strong voice, "Peter, this is Indigo."

"Unique name." Pete unfolded from his protective stance and strode toward us.

"Unique bike." Indigo countered, standing his male ego ground.

"Is yours over there?" Pete motioned to the rack Emma and Bill stood beside, as if guarding, or ready to make an escape.

Pete's condescending attitude was pissing me off. I shot him the
evil eye, but he ignored me.

"One of my bikes." Indigo's voice dropped an octave.

Pete cocked his head.

"I've got one something like yours out in the Hamptons."

Were they about to square off? "Oh shit," I mumbled under my breath. "Does Indigo think–"

Pete's expression broke with a shred of appreciation as his head hitched again, this time his eyes wide, evaluating Indigo from head to toe. "We'll have to ride someday."

My face flamed. I wanted to smack Pete so badly. He was behaving like a jackass.

Disregarding Pete's invitation, Indigo turned to me. He had defended his honor with Pete, but when his eyes searched mine, I had a sickening feeling he was about to bail ... and I'd never see him again. Things were still in the fragile stage.
I
was fragile.

"Guess we should be taking off. Thanks for the company. I had a nice time." Disappointment shadowed Indigo's face before he turned to walk away.

Shit. No exchange of phone numbers, thanks to Pete, no doubt. I shot him a threatening look. My cheeks burned and my eyes were slits. "I'm gonna kill you," I mouthed before my glare deserted Pete's
What's wrong?
shrug and matching mug.

"Pete's a good friend." I caught up with Indigo, standing beside him as he unlocked his bike. I had to control my voice so I didn't sound imploring.

Pete approached, continuing to size Indigo up like guys do at the gym. I was mortified. What next? I worried, but my limbs relaxed when Pete stuck out a hand. "Good to meet you, man."

"Hey. Nice to meet you." Indigo appeared puzzled at Pete's about-face, but reciprocated.

"I'm their bodyguard." Pete grinned, dragging his gaze from me to Emma, but his eyes were serious.

Armed with a strong jaw, Indigo's stare barreled across mine, then shifted back to Pete.

Breaking the tension, Bill stepped into the circle we formed. "Hey, man. Bill Addison."

"Cool." Pete was like a damn stud horse protecting his mares. I let out a breath when he offered Bill a hand.

After nods and handshakes, the atmosphere warmed. The guys began talking mountain bikes and motorcycles, comparing
rides
and experiences.

I heaved the biggest sigh of my life as Em and I stood smashed together on the sidelines, watching, listening. We elbowed each other, shooting eye signals, mouthing wow's and oh my God's. The day had been the highlight of the past grungy year, and I didn't want it to end, even if Pete was in the middle of it.

I caught Indigo's glances, questioning at times, then he moved to my side, leaving Pete and Bill in conversation.

"Your friend's a character."

"Tell me about it."

"So ... there's nothing going on between you two?" His eyes tested mine.

"Not in the least." The laugh I let out was more like a thankful burst of air.

Indigo chuckled at my reaction, appearing relieved. "Can I snag your number?"

Gracias,
Cielo y todos los Santos
[Thank you, Heaven and all the saints.]
I thought he'd never ask!

"Where's your cell?" I stuck out my hand.

He pulled an iPhone from his pocket and slapped it into my palm. I tapped in my number and saved it to his contacts.

Towering over my five-six height, he leaned in and placed a light kiss on my cheek with the softest lips, whispering, “Thank you for the intriguing day. We should get together and ride sometime. Make a day of it. Bring a picnic lunch, or dine out. Maybe hit the beach.”

"Sure. That would be nice. I'd love to." Oh – my – God. It was too good to be true. I almost fainted on the spot. "So, I guess I'll be talking to you then ..." Heart racing, I fought to control my lips.

"Definitely." He nodded, and after the warmest smile, his eyes left mine.

Indigo's tone sharpened when he said to Pete, "See you around, man." Then he mounted his bike and joined Bill, who waited for him on the side of the road. Emma, Pete and I watched in silence until they disappeared around a corner. I already missed Indigo. My heart dove into my stomach.

"Thanks for almost ruining my life." I glared at Pete.

"What?" He stared, clueless.

"Pete." Em tried diplomacy. "You can't keep throwing your weight around like that. Jewel's really into that guy."

"Really?" His mouth slid into a slow smirk I found most annoying.

Men could be so dumb sometimes. I wrapped myself around Emma's arm. "I'm empty," I complained, "how about you?"

She sighed. "Billy's better than I remember. I hope he calls." I'd never seen her eyes so big and bright.

"So, Em." My brows shot up. "That was an impressive game of charades back there in the park. Now that I've got you alone ..." I shooed Pete away with a flick of my wrist, "what's the story? It's bugging the shit out of me. Why didn't you ever mention him?"

Pete cut into her reply. "When did you meet the stud?" He took me by the shoulders, spinning me around to face him. Staring down at me, he feigned a glare. "Why didn't you tell me about him, Jewel?" Then he confronted Emma. "And you," his eyes narrowed, "I expect more from you."

"Hey. Don't look at me." Emma's serene forehead flexed. "She just met him today ..."

I jumped in, "If you want the truth. I wouldn't have said anything anyway, because I'm not up to the PEW test."

"After your last boy toy, that's a shocking remark." Crossing his arms, Pete stood his ground, a sour look on his face.