Page 49 of Ride By Your Side

29

Veronica

“Ican’tbelieveyougotme to wake up this early on a weekend,” I whine as I fall into a metal chair, closing my eyes.

“Oh, come on,” Blair says, coming up behind me and squeezing my shoulders. “It’s notthatearly.”

I disagree with a large exaggerated puff of air. “Speak for yourself. Eight is way too early for a Saturday morning.”

“Hey, at least she didn’t make you come in at six to get things ready,” Ford hollers from the other side of the room as he continues to move out the old shelves in Blair’s new photography studio. On second thought, maybe “new” isn’t the right word for this place.

Given that it’s one of the many buildings along Historic Main Street here in Evergreen, this place has been around for a while, and since the old model train store that used to occupy this space has been gone for a good five years now, this place has definitely seen better days.

I suppose that’s what we’re all here for, since we’ve been recruited not only to tidy the place up, but also give it a fresh paint job to spruce it up. I really shouldn’t complain. Blair having this studio is one of the main things keeping her here and excited about Evergreen—other than us, obviously—and for me, that’s a win.

“It’s still way too early,” I groan. Meanwhile, Blair gets back to work on the wall in front of us, grabbing one of the set-aside paint brushes and dipping it into the large gallon bucket.

“How about this?” Blair says, stopping mid-stroke as she looks at me over her shoulder. “We all take a quick break, and Ford and I can go grab some coffee and muffins from The Steamy Bean.”

I sway my head from side to side before sighing dramatically. “I suppose that could work.”

I still feel like it’s way too early, but from my experience there is very little that coffee—and especially one of those special white chocolate raspberry muffins—can’t cure. Maybe that’s all I need to give me the extra push to get going today.

“Hey, Ford,” Blair calls out, setting the brush back down. “I promised Ronnie here some breakfast and coffee from The Steamy Bean. So congratulations! You’ve officially been chosen as my special helper to pick it up and bring it back.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he says, clearly exhausted and ready for a break as beads of sweat form along his forehead.

“And what exactly are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Miles asks, walking toward us with his arms folded. My eyes instinctively drop to his biceps, where the fabric of his shirt pulls tight against his muscles. Unlike Ford, he’s completely unbothered by the manual labor, and it’s not hard to see why, given the way his body practically exudes strength and pure masculinity.

“Just relax and we’ll pick it all up again after we get some food and liquid energy in us,” Blair suggests as Ford walks her way, pulling her hand into his.

“Works for me,” I say, more than willing to keep my ass planted in this chair. I’ve never been an early riser and have always been one of those people you shouldn’t talk to or bother until they’ve had their morning cup of joe.

If I’d actually thought things through, I would’ve stopped for coffee before heading over. But after my first week back from my much-needed vacation, my body is running on empty. I spent the entire morning hitting snooze on my alarm, barely dragging myself out of bed with only minutes to spare before meeting Blair and Ford.

Luckily, one doesn’t actually need to dress up to work and paint, especially since I’m in an oversized, well-worn Evergreen Grove High School T-shirt and leggings. Even my hair is a mess, loosely tied back with a purple scrunchie, with far too many strands breaking free, but I’m too exhausted to care.

“Figured,” Blair says with a knowing smile before nodding for Ford to head out the door, leaving me and Miles behind.

While I’m more than happy to stay relaxed for as long as possible, he grabs Blair’s discarded brush and picks up right where she left off.

“Really?” I ask, my shoulders drooping. “We’re supposed to be taking a break. You’re going to make me look bad.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re making yourself look bad,” he states, his tone lacking the usual venom and carrying a more playful edge instead.

While golden retriever boyfriends seem to be all the rage right now, I’m thinking I might prefer the german shepherd type. There’s something strangely appealing about a man who’s tough and grumpy on the outside but fiercely loyal and protective when it counts. Sure, it’s less fun when he keeps his walls up,but I’m finding it incredibly rewarding as he finally starts to trust and let me in.

“You’re probably right, but it’s so much more comfortable to sit and be lazy,” I argue, settling back in my chair even more.

“You might also have a point, but the sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner we can get out of here and have our weekend back. Maybe get you home in time for a nap, or maybe for another one of those creepy shows you like to watch.”

A loud whine escapes my lips. “Ugh, why do you always have to be so right?” I grumble, as I regretfully push myself out of the chair I’ve made myselfwaytoo comfortable in.

“I wouldn’t say I’malwaysright, but what I am, is eager to get out of here at a decent hour.”

“Why?” I ask, reaching for the brush that Blair set out specifically for me, which, unfortunately, is free of paint, but not for long as I finally sink it into the large bucket. “You got a hot date tonight?”

His face scrunches up, his mouth pulled into a tight line as he sends me an incredulous stare. “You really think I’d be dating someone else while married?”

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