Chapter 5

It's nearly a week after the rehearsal dinner, and I can't stop thinking about Hendrix. If I weren't in an I-hate-all-men state right now, I would be trying to find a way to spend time with him.

It's barely six in the morning when my phone rings, breaking me from my thoughts, thankfully before they get too creative. I definitely don't need to be thinking about how warm and inviting his eyes are, and I refuse to think about how soft his skin was under my palm—soft and warm. So warm.

"Do you not have a working clock?" I ask Ashtyn, who has been my best friend for as long as I can remember.

"Oh hush. If you would have called me back three days ago, then I wouldn't have had to resort to calling you at the ass crack of dawn just to talk to you."

"Maybe I was trying to avoid you," I tell her, not completely joking. It's not that I don't want to talk to Ashtyn, it's just that I know what she wants to talk about, and I'm just not ready for that.

"Are we going to talk about it?" I hate when she uses her soft voice. It's the one she used the day I told her the truth about Ian and how our engagement was a sham. It's also the same one she used when she asked me again and again if I was sure that moving to Moose Falls to be close to my dad was the right choice. Not that I'm happy about moving back into the same house as my dad, but I knew I'd be safe and that if I failed at getting my life together, I wouldn't be on my own to pick up the pieces this time.

"Nope, not today."

"Lo, you need to talk to someone about it. You can't keep all this anger and resentment you have toward Ian locked up inside. It's going to turn you into a manhater."

I close my eyes and flop back on my bed. It's dangerous to close my eyes after thinking about Hendrix because the images that fill that space are not at all appropriate to be having about a man I don't even know that well.

"I'm not sure that's possible, Ash."

There is a beat of silence after my words.

"You met someone?" There's no accusation in her tone, but I can hear the already that didn't follow her question. It's not like my ex waited for my side of the bed to be cold before he moved on, so why should I?

"I have not met anyone." Technically, it's not a lie, considering the fact that I actually met Hendrix a couple of years ago. "More like I was reintroduced to someone."

"Seriously, though, you met someone?" I want nothing more than to change the subject, but if I know anything about Ashtyn, it's that she's like a dog with a bone when she wants to talk about something. There is no way she'll give up.

"I just spent some time talking to one of the guys at the rehearsal dinner. That was it, nothing more."

"Harlow, you're forgetting I know you better than anyone. You totally met someone."

Groaning, I tip my head back looking at the ceiling. Ashtyn is right, she knows me better than anyone and no doubt can tell I'm hiding something from her. "Fine. I may have hooked up with someone at the rehearsal dinner, and again at the reception.""You what?" Her squeal is so loud I can't be sure it hasn't caused some sort of damage to my hearing.

"You heard me, and no I'm not ready to talk about it."

"Oh come on, you can't drop that big of news on me and expect not to talk about."

"We will, I'm just not ready right now, not before I have to head out to meet my dad and spend hours working in the studio. I need to have a bottle of wine to get me through this conversation."

"Fine but at least tell me who it was. Was it one of the players? Come on, Harlow, give me something here, would ya?"

"Fine, it was one of the guys on the team, but that is all I'm going to tell you."

"Which one was it?"

"No!" I shake my head in refusal and sit back up in my bed so fast that it takes a second for my blood flow to settle back to normal and relieve my head rush. "I know why you want to know, and I in no way approve of you searching for him online. I don't want to know anything about him that would make it difficult for me to remain acquaintances."

"Aren't you even the least bit curious if he dates a ton of models or if he's married? I mean, seriously, what if he has a criminal history and you're hanging out with this guy? I am seriously disappointed in your lack of judgment." I roll my eyes, knowing she can't see me and even if she could, she wouldn't give up because once she gets started, there is no stopping her.

"I'm pretty sure that stalking the guy isn't going to help me get over any lingering resentment I have toward men in general."

"You're absolutely right, but it might help you decide whether or not he's the right person to have your first post-engagement sex encounter with."

I laugh. It amazes me how her mind works. I'm pretty sure the bulk of her insanity comes from her never-ending string of bad luck with guys. It may have been an engagement that was as fake as the orgasms I'd been having, but at least my bad choices stopped with one man, rather than trying out all of the bad decisions.

"You make it sound like I'm going to be abducted by an alien or something." We both laugh at the absurdity that is us. "In all seriousness, Ash, I'm just not ready. I love you..."

"I hear a ‘but' in there."

"But I can only handle one person butting into my love life, and even that is pushing it."

"Oh God, is your dad still trying to set you up with one of the nice guys at the supermarket?"

I laugh, thinking of the last guy my dad tried to set me up with. "He tried to set me up with a ball boy!"

The sound of Ashtyn's laughter rings in my ear, and I have to pull the phone away so I don't lose my hearing. I turn the phone and stick my tongue out at her and her laughter at my expense.

"Are you done?" I ask, trying to sound annoyed, although the smile tugging at my lips says I am anything but.

"Yes." She clears her throat to gain control of the giggles still trying to get through. "Please continue."

"Anyway, he set me up with the ball boy, and I swear on everything holy that if you laugh again, I will hang up on you." I pause, waiting to see if she's going to fall apart again. Once I'm sure she's muted me or is turning red from holding in any laughter remaining, I continue. "They're called boys for a reason, he was barely twenty-one and took me home to have dinner with his mom. I don't even want to know what my dad was thinking. I was at least six years older than the guy. He wanted to pick me up on his bike."

"I don't know, Lo, if he rides a motorcycle, that could be hot. I don't think career-wise he is what one would call stable, but a bike… I could make an exception for that."

"No, no, not a bike as in a motorcycle, hot biker guy. I mean a bike as in he has a second job as a paperboy and rides his bike around town delivering the paper. You know, the bike that requires peddling."

Groaning, I walk over to my dresser, digging through the drawers and looking for something acceptable to wear to paint my dance studio. I can't wait to get Music Box Dance Studio up and running. I never thought I would own my own studio, but it's amazing the things a person can manage to do when they're determined to make it out on top of a bad situation.

"Hey, Harlow?" I don't respond because I know it won't matter; Ashtyn is going to continue talking either way. "What would he have done if you agreed to let him pick you up?"

"Probably would have had me sit on the handlebars," I answer without hesitation, sending us into another fit of laughter.

"All joking aside, you know there's nothing wrong with you meeting someone and actually moving on, right?"

"I have moved on." I can practically hear her eyes roll. "No, Ash, I haven't met someone, and no, I'm not ready to start dating anytime soon. But I am done waiting for him to call and tell me this was all a misunderstanding."

Grabbing an old t-shirt that has more holes than a pasta strainer and a pair of shorts, I head into the bathroom. After grabbing a towel, I turn on the shower.

"I just want you to be happy." The words are a whisper from my friend, yet they sound so much louder.

"I'm happy, I promise." I didn't realize until now how true the words are. I am happy, if not a little lonely, but I can accept that.

"Okay, I won't ask again, at least not as long as I think you're happy enough."

"Good. Now, I need to shower and get ready so I can head to the studio and get some work done. My dad said he'd bring a couple of guys with him to help get the painting done since they're off today."

"Good luck, babe. We'll talk again soon."

Hanging up, I toss my phone on the counter, slip my nightshirt over my head, then hop in the shower, not at all thinking about Hendrix and the way he made my skin tingle.

* * *

I'm running late by the time I pull into the parking lot at the studio. I hate running late, but the call with Ashtyn took longer than I thought it would, and thoughts of Hendrix had me far more distracted than I would ever admit.

"I'm so sorry!" I yell as I climb out of my car. I open the back and pull out a box of doughnuts and a box of coffee, hoping it's enough to make up for running late. I try to ignore the sound of footsteps as they get closer. I don't need to turn around to know that it's Hendrix approaching; the way my body heats is enough to alert me that he's getting closer. Damn Ashtyn for putting these thoughts in my head and damn him for being so attractive.

"Here, give me that stuff and you can go unlock the door."

I nod rather than answering with words, afraid my voice will be as shaky as my hands are. I hand over the boxes and turn around, making quick work of the distance between my car and the door.

"I thought you were up when I left this morning," my dad says, and I push off the feeling that he's scolding me for running behind, like I'm a teenager living at home. Which is another reminder why I need to find my own place soon.

"I was. Ashtyn called me this morning and you know her, once she starts talking, it takes the threat of death to get her off the phone in less than thirty minutes." I roll my eyes, not at all annoyed by the fact that my best friend likes to talk.

"You're lucky to even be here then. And only a few minutes late." My dad laughs before walking into the studio.

I turn and look back toward the parking lot, noticing that another car has pulled in. I watch as the guy behind the wheel climbs out and says something to Hendrix before taking his hat off and running his fingers through his dark hair and then replacing the hat.

The two walk together, talking, and I watch the familiarity between them. It's obvious they've known each other for a long time. My gaze stays locked on them as they approach where I stand by the door.

"Harlow, this is Ryan." Hendrix pauses, watching me as I look Ryan over. I'm not sure what he's waiting to see, but I stick my hand out in front of me as a greeting to Ryan. He wraps his hand around mine in a firm handshake. His palm is warm but doesn't cause the same ripple of awareness through me as Hendrix's when he touches me.

"It's nice to meet you, Harlow. I'll head in and get started." He winks as he passes me, greeting the others with a mix of handshakes and slaps on the back. It's a weird dynamic to watch these guys who have known each other for a while. I know Ryan isn't a teammate because it was mentioned at the barbecue last week that he's hoping to be traded to Minnesota. The other guys—Archer, Mason, and Hayes—I know are teammates, and I've met them a few times over the years. Archer and Mason being the newest two to the group.

"You got somewhere for me to put these down?" Hendrix holds the doughnut box and coffee out. I almost forgot he was holding them.

"There's a fold-up table in the office. We can put them there. That will keep them out of the way, and if I'm lucky, there will be doughnuts left over at the end of the day."

I try not to stare as he walks toward the office, but it's nearly impossible to keep my eyes off him. The way his body seems to move so effortlessly, eating up the distance across the room. His pants fitting loose, and his shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and back, leave no question to what is beneath.

"Don't get caught watching him, or your dad will kick him out faster than you can blink."

"You're probably right." I tip my head to the side, looking up at Hayes.

"How are you holding up? I haven't talked to you much since you moved back to town." With one last look at Hendrix, I turn so I can no longer see him. Less distracting that way. I've known Hayes for a few years now; he joined the team shortly before I moved away to be closer to my ex.

"I'm doing good, just ready to get this place open. I'm hoping once we get the painting done, I can install the mirrors and get the floors refinished. Then I'll be ready to go. I started enrolling students already, and it looks like I'll have a few full classes. I can't wait." I know I must look a little silly with the massive smile covering my face, but I can't help it. After your life falls apart the way mine did, I deserve to be happy, and opening a dance studio is going to make me happier than I think I have ever been.

"I'm glad things are working out for you after all you've been through." He squeezes my shoulder, "whatever is going on with you and Hendrix, be careful." I watch as he heads over to where the others are, grabbing a roller, and moving to another part of the room to start painting.

Over the next couple of hours, the seven of us paint, taking a few breaks to grab a bite to eat and have another cup of coffee or a bottle of water. When the room is finally done and all of the supplies are cleaned up, I hold the door open for the guys, thanking them as they leave.

"Don't be too late, I have a guy I want you to meet. He's really nice." I roll my eyes and push my dad gently out the door. I shake my head at the laughter that follows him out, not sure if he's laughing because he was kidding or because he knows these blind dates he's trying to set me up with are driving me crazy.

"No! I refuse to let you hook me up anymore. Your choices of men for me suck!"

"They do not. Just give him a chance."

I shake my head and wave him off, watching as he hops in his truck and leaves. When Hendrix comes out, I lock up, then head to my car. I climb in and roll down my windows, letting out the stale air from the heated car.

"Hey."

I lean my head against the back of my seat and turn toward the window, meeting Hendrix's gaze hidden behind his dark sunglasses. I wish he weren't wearing them. I prefer the unobstructed view of his eyes; I like the way they linger on me.

"Hey." Brilliant response, Harlow.

"You have plans tonight?"

My heart skids to a stop and then picks up at a much faster pace. "I do. They involve me going home and not moving until tomorrow."

Hendrix nods, his gaze locked on something above my car. "Let me make you dinner."

A laugh, quick and loud, shoots out of my mouth. Clearly, I misheard him. He can't want to spend more time with me after already being with around me all day. "What?"

"Why don't you let me make you dinner? It's the least you can do after I helped you paint all day."

"That doesn't even make sense. I should be the one making you dinner."

"You're right, you should, but since I'd already planned on making a very fancy and complicated meal, maybe you could come to my house and let me do the cooking."

My stomach flips at the thought of spending more time alone with this man. I want to say no for the simple fact that I know I can't be trusted around him. What if I do something stupid? But if I say no, Ashtyn will probably have me committed for losing my mind and not accepting an invitation from a man as attractive and fun to be around as Hendrix is.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I was, but your hesitation has me a little nervous, and I'm wondering if I'm making a huge mistake by extending the invitation."

"Do you mind if I go home and get cleaned up first?" I wrap my hands around the steering wheel, because if I don't, I'm afraid I'll try to touch him when he leans down closer to the open window.

"That's fine, take your time." His long, tanned arm reaches through the window, grabbing my phone off the dash where I set it down when I got in the car. He holds the phone out to me so I can unlock it and then puts his number in before sending a text to himself. "I'll text you the address. Let me know when you're headed my way."

With a quick tap on the door, he turns and jogs back toward his truck. I swear I try not to watch him as he goes, but there is something about him that demands attention, and not in a cocky or obnoxious way. When he looks over his shoulder at me and smirks, I know I've been caught staring at him.