8. Gravity

EIGHT

GRAVITY

Gravity, Alex I could hear the bass from where I was standing, so I knew she was not listening to her surroundings. Another fucking risk. So, I waited until she ran around a big yellow pine and then followed her, keeping my distance.

I’m sure I came across as an asshole. But for some reason, I feel the primal need to protect her. To shield her from whatever is eating at her from the inside. I see she has a wall up, and it makes her seem abrasive and headstrong. But it’s there for a reason. I know it all too well. But her reason? That, I don’t know. I barely know her and the way my body reacts to her is new to me. It doesn’t help that she has the prettiest set of crystal-clear blue eyes I have ever seen. Her dark lashes frame her doe eyes and the contrast of her lashes, light eyes, and blonde hair make the blue pop even more. She truly looks like a damn princess. A sassy-mouthed sailor of a princess.

She’s independent and doesn’t need a man. It’s clear as day. The way she carries herself is hot as fuck, too. She doesn’t care about what others think. She’s comfortable in her skin, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that my skin prickles at the thought of anyone putting themselves in harm’s way willingly. Especially her.

I continue following her, keeping distance between us until we are out through the trailhead, and I see a small street in the distance. This is not the way I came in, but Marco did say there were different entrances to the trails. The sun is rising behind some of the houses and with it, the heat. Roe continues jogging, but quickly slows down and starts to walk. Her head is bobbing side to side, and she does some sort of drumming on her hips before stopping in front of a house and walking in, without even using a key. She doesn ’ t lock the door. Fuck .

You know what? Not my problem. She’s home, she’s safe. I don’t even know this girl and what was it that she said I had? A hero complex? There’s not much I can do if someone doesn’t want to save themselves.

I turn around and run back to my house.

The week went by fast. Starting at Baker Auto went better than I expected. I’ve already fallen into a routine: wake up, run, shower, eat breakfast, work, relax, sleep, and repeat. My boxes are unpacked, and my things are put away. I’ve barely seen Marco all week because he’s working nights, so it’s quiet by the time I’m ready to settle down.

Although I have not seen Roe since Monday, I can’t get her out of my mind. I kept using the same trail from when I followed her home to see if I would run into her again, but no luck. I have considered going to Saddlers to see if she’s working but that would make me look like a lunatic.

My work schedule is flexible. This week, I took the day shift so that I have the weekend off. The weather is supposed to be great, so I want to ride the trails or the track. It’s Friday morning and I decided to venture out and see more of this small town. Everyone I’ve met is friendly and there are a couple of businesses I’ve been meaning to check out, starting with Ronnie’s Kitchen.

I walk across 6th Street, the hot air whipping against my face and making me wish I was already inside. Walking through the heavy doors, I can see a few people inside turn their heads my way after the bell rings. The sweat instantly starts to dry as I walk to the warmly lit space to find a seat in one of the booths in the back.

“Hi there. Welcome to Ronnie’s. What can I get you?” the friendly waitress with the million-dollar smile asks. She has this girl-next-door vibe going on and it works great for her. I would probably let her sell me anything she wanted because I wouldn’t want to say no to her. I’m sure it’s great for business.

“Hi, can I start with coffee and milk?” I ask politely.

“Cream or milk?” she asks.

“No, I mean milk. I know, I know, cream is the usual but please, just bring me a side of milk and hot coffee.”

She doesn’t say anything else for a second, but she looks at me up and down and writes the order on her worn-out spiral notebook, before saying, “Sure thing, coming right up.”

She walks away and my eyes follow her. Something about her commands the space like the best friend we all wish we had. Not exactly the same as what has me watching a certain little blonde, but definitely something. I can’t stop thinking about Roe’s feisty little mouth and her sassy attitude. She commands a different kind of attention that has me itching to find out more. It’s like my brain wants to find ways to connect with her and it won’t let me forget that she exists.

Growing up so closely with my sisters meant I was always surrounded by girls. At some point, I'm sure I was the annoying big brother, but generally speaking, we were all friends. When I started racing, it seemed natural to gravitate toward the female riders. But seeing as most were moms and wives, it made sense why their husbands wouldn’t want a tatted stranger trying to start a conversation. It also didn’t help that I quickly moved up the racing ranks, causing me to constantly have to start over socially. Marco and I met through one of my sister’s friends. It’s been so long at this point, he’s basically a brother to me, and our families get along as well. His parents are uptight and don’t understand his racing life, mostly because of health issues. They are allowing him this season to prove he’s serious about the sport before forcing their hand and making him go to work for them. Other than my family and Marco, I don’t have many people close to me; in reality, that’s another reason why moving to Baker Oaks was easy.

The waitress comes back with my coffee and the glass of milk. After placing them on the table in front of me, she stands back and waits. Stirring the coffee and adding in the sugar, I pour the milk slowly until it turns a shade of brown that mimics sand on a sunny day. I put the spoon down and bring the mug to my lips. She’s still standing there, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrow cocked high.

“Mm, want some?” I ask with a smirk after sipping the warm liquid and closing my eyes in satisfaction at the perfect taste.

“I only know one other person who takes regular coffee with milk. I wanted to see if you do it the same way. Weird. But sorry, staring is rude,” she says while fumbling with her hands. “Apparently, I lost all my manners today. My name is Cara and I’m here if you need anything. Can I grab you something else or do you need a few more minutes to look at the menu?”

“Thank you, Cara. How about your breakfast sampler?”

“You got it. Coming right up.” She walks away again, heading toward the back where the kitchen is. Before I can focus on anything else, the door opens. In strolls a beautiful, blue-eyed, tattoo-covered, dirt bike rider, smiling from ear-to-ear as she heads straight toward the back. Roe.

She walks past a few empty tables, holding a checkered flag backpack with little smiley faces, and slides into the back corner booth. She pulls out an iPad and a small bag, setting them both on the table before smiling at Cara and placing her order without even glancing at the menu. Her eyes roam the restaurant, and just like gravity, they land straight on mine. There’s a slight surprise at first, quickly replaced by what seems like annoyance, but the surprise was there. I smile and nod at her, but she looks down, grabs her iPad and buries herself into the corner of the booth. I don’t know what annoys me more, the fact that she chose to ignore me or the fact that I don’t want her to.

I don’t play games. I don’t fall into the whole cat-and-mouse chase. If I’m sure I want something I go after it. And when it comes to women, I have never been one to follow someone who doesn’t seem interested. Women have fallen at my feet since I was young; something about the accent and skin tone, or so I’ve been told. But none of it has ever been a turn-on. Neither has chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught. But there is just something about her that has my feet itching to get up and go to her.

My eyes keep going up to look at Roe, but she doesn’t look my way once. Annoying beyond measure. She’s just sitting there, peacefully sipping on what seems to be hot cocoa, and either writing or drawing on her iPad. Her lower lip is trapped between her teeth and her long blonde hair falls around her face. I continue to stare at her like a damn stalker —

twice in one week—when I see her fidgeting and frowning. She starts looking for something inside her backpack, and she has almost half her head inside it before sitting back and pulling out something to tie her hair up into a high ponytail. She then pulls her legs to her chest and closes her eyes, sipping from the straw in her cup.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” I hear someone say, making me snap out of the trance. Co?o ? 1 . I look up to see Cara holding two plates of food, just standing there with a knowing smile. I ’ m so busted.

“What?” I ask, trying to recover.

She doesn’t let me escape the conversation, lifting her eyebrows before saying, “Don’t waste your time. That one is a bobcat; there’s no taming her.”

“Who? Roe?” I ask.

“Oh, you’ve met her already. Poor boy, are you under her spell already? Don’t get me wrong, I love Roe, as does half of this town. But like my bestie says, love doesn ’ t take away knowledge. And the truth is, she burns everything in her path, especially boys.” She places the plates on my table after offering way more information than I would have liked but shedding a little light into the mystery of Roe.

“Good thing I’m not a boy,” I add nonchalantly.

“Oh sweet boy, it doesn’t matter. She will eat you alive. Trust me, don’t fall for the pretty face and the small size. She’s vicious. She’s a great friend and I would go to bat for her, but I would hate to be the new guy to get caught in that trap. Or, how about I just tell you the same thing I tell everyone who asks about her? Because trust me, you’re not the first and you won’t be the last intrigued by her—approach at your own risk.” She winks and adds, “Enjoy your meal,” before walking away.

1 ? Co?o: Damn or shit