Page 39 of Down & Dirty

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Sky brushed the hair from her face, before she began cleaning up, swiping the sponge across the counter.

“I got that,” I said, nudging her out of the way, and taking it from her hand. “Cooks don’t clean.”

“Oh, okay.” She seemed surprised, but then again, I guess in her house, Micah wasn’t likely to be much of a help.

“Here,” I said, offering her a glass of wine. “Relax while I take care of this.”

Sky settled into my spot at the bar, taking a quick sip of wine. “This is good.” She reached for the bottle and snapped a photo ofthe label. “Should I expect it to cost the equivalent of my car payment?”

I genuinely didn’t remember where I’d gotten that bottle, let alone how much it cost. But the comment reminded me why Sky was here in the first place. And that she regarded my lifestyle as foolishly excessive, if not worse.

“I don’t really have extravagant tastes, Sky. Look around. This place is no Taj Mahal.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the sparse living room. “It could certainly use some warming up. Maybe a few spider plants.”

“So, you don’t think I’m too self-centered to neglect house plants? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You would,” she muttered under her breath before taking another drink.

I leaned heavily into my hands, my face level with hers across the counter. “This place might lack a homey feel. I’ll give you that. But I’m not here often. Maybe it would benefit from a woman’s touch.” I winked at her, and her cheeks tinged pink in the most adorable way. I had never seen a woman so full of sass, and yet so easy to blush.

“If that’s you asking for help, I’m here to support this first step in your recovery,” she laughed, spinning on the stool and hopping down. “Some throw pillows on the couch. A few coffee table books. You could turn this place around in no time.”

“Motocross manager, actress, mom, and now interior decorator. Is there anything you can’t do?”

Sky’s smile slipped. “There’s plenty.”

“Such as?” I wasn’t trying to pry, but I was curious about her. Growing more curious by the day. I wasn’t sure I’d ever met anyone like Sky before, and I didn’t like seeing the way the light in her eyes had just dimmed.

“Well,” she sighed, landing heavily on my couch. “I can’t do a cartwheel, and that has always really bothered me.”

Grabbing my wine off the counter I went into the living roomto join her. “I’m being serious. You’re certainly more than capable of running your brother’s show, but sometimes I get the sense it’s not your dream job.”

“I don’t mind helping Ronnie,” she said before her expression fell, a wistful sort of longing on her face.

“There’s a pretty massive gap between ‘don’t mind’ and actual passion.”

Sky raised her eyes to meet mine, the bright, clear blue piercing right through me. “Is that what drives you? Passion?”

“Of course. Riding is the one thing I was ever good at. I never would have stayed in it this long if I wasn’t where I belonged.”

The words sounded right, but the way my chest felt heavy after I said them warned that their truth was fading. Racing had been the only thing I was good at, but I didn’t do it out of passion anymore. I did it because I wasn’t sure what other options I had. I’d turned to motocross when I had nothing left to lose because everything I cared about had been ripped away from me. Chasing the adrenaline high had been the only way to feel...anything in an otherwise dark and hollow time. But after a decade, that rush was almost impossible to find, and the money was all I seemed to be chasing.

The light filtering through her wine glass splintered into a rainbow that fanned out across her thigh. She was staring at it, spinning the glass and making the rainbow dance.

“Well, I guess you’re luckier than me. I’ve never really felt like that.”

I’d always told myself that the relationships I’d had the last ten years had been fine. They’d been easy and mutually beneficial. But hearing the sadness in Sky’s voice, and feeling my heart start to pound with some unquenchable urge to take it away, made me realize how wrong I’d been. Me and those women had gotten along fine, sure. But we’d never beenrealwith each other. Not once. And for the first time, that felt like a mistake. Like a loss.

I gave her a slanted smile. “It’s a good thing you’re still cane-free and sporting not a single grey hair,” I said, leaning forward as if to look for some.

Jerking away from me she ran a hand over her head, her scowl fierce. It was a relief to see the spark of fire back in her eyes. “I’m not too old, I get it. Stop looking at my hair like that.”

“I was just checking,” I laughed, settling back and drinking my wine. “So, you’ve got time to figure it out.”

She held my gaze, her cheeks hollowing as she rolled a mouthful of wine around her tongue before swallowing. “What about you? What comes next?”

Ouch. Serves me right for leading us into ‘real conversation’ territory. This woman only ever went for the jugular.

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