Page 74 of Just Act Natural

“Then maybe we should team up and take on the bad guys together.”

Even if it’s only make-believe.

And even if it’s only temporary.

TWENTY-THREE

GRANT

I walkmy bright orange mountain bike through Get in Gear’s doors, hot, sweaty, and still breathing too hard. I might have overdone it on the trails.

The guy behind the counter looks over his shoulder. He’s putting the chain back on a road bicycle that’s upside down on a stand. “Good ride?”

When I picked up the bike first thing this morning, another employee gave me a few options for the day’s trip. I chose the longest—out of ego or punishment, I’m not sure. But not even a grueling ride through pine trees with stops to take in gorgeous views could keep my mind off of Lila.

When she pulled me to her and kissed me, it rewired my brain. I can’t get her out of my head. To be totally honest, I’m not even trying. For years, I’ve been careful. Minimal dating, and never with anyone I could have feelings for. Meaningless first dates where nobody walked away wanting more. Enough to say I’m trying without ever having to actually try.

Enough to be sure that what happened with Kelsey never happens again.

And now? I spent all day wondering what Lila’s wearing and whose ear she’s chatting off and how many hours until I see her again. I miss her, and we’ve only been apart a day.

But I don’t think this guy with the tattoo sleeves down both arms wants to hear about how a whirlwind of a woman brought me to my knees.

“Great ride,” I answer. “It was a bit more than I bargained for, though.”

It’s been a while since I biked on terrain that uneven and unpredictable. I think I jostled my spine out of alignment, and I probably have bruises in places I’d rather not name.

His beard twitches with a hint of a smile. “The ones that push you are the best rides. Which one did you do?”

“Garrett Trail.” Half a dozen biking paths start within a fifteen-minute ride of the bike shop, everything from paved loops for the family to the bone rattler I opted to try. “It’s unbelievable what you’ve got right outside your front door.”

No disrespect to my hometown, but I have to drive thirty miles to Georgetown to get a similar experience.

“We’re in mountain biking heaven out here.”

“Do you have a recommendation for something similar to Garrett but, let’s say, a step down in technical difficulty?” I wouldn’t mind getting out there again before I leave, but I don’t need to go home with a slipped disc.

“Sure.” He pulls a laminated map to the counter between us and indicates different trail names. “You’ve got a few options, depending on how much time you have to burn. My favorite all-day?—”

A clanging behind me makes both of us turn. A blond woman barges through the shop door, practically knocking the bell off its hook. She stalks past the rows of bicycles and over to the counter, glaring like she’s about to tear the guy apart.

She crosses her arms over her purple apron. “Your truck is in my spot again, Callahan.”

He just blinks at her. “Is it?”

“You know darn well it is.”

He pulls his hand over his beard as if he’s contemplating this. “The alley spaces aren’t assigned, are they?”

I don’t know the man, but his innocent act could use some work. Then again, it’s probably meant to be obviously fake.

“That’s the one that’s closest to the bakery’s back door. The one I park in every day when I open like I have since I was sixteen. And yet, whenever I come inafteryou’re here, where do I find your truck?”

“In an unassigned space that’s convenient to my business’s back door?”

She looks like she’s trying to mentally melt his face off. “You’re doing it on purpose.”

“I am. It’s my favorite spot.”

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