Page 23 of Clean Out of Luck

I start biking so I won’t be late to work.

“Where are you going on your date?” he calls after me.

“Bye, Wade!”

“What’s his name?” he shouts after me as I put more distance between us.

“At least tell me his social security number!” he yells.

I have to focus on what I’m doing so I don’t crash my bike as I’m bent over with laughter. So much for him not being an overprotective menace.

Chapter Seven

Wade

Scarlett’s goingon a date with someone again. Tonight. And this time she wouldn’t tell me who. Or where. I don’t like that. She’s starting to catch on. She pedaled that bike like she was scared I wouldn’t let her go until she told me everything.

The thought did cross my mind.

When she asked me at the tea shop to leave it alone, I was distracted by her constant touching. She doesn’t even know how distracting it is for me when she holds my hand. I’d agree to just about anything if she were holding my hand.

But she’s not. Instead she’s probably holding a stranger’s hand right now. Smiling at him from across the table with those big, chocolate eyes, a twinkle gleaming in them…

Shaking my head, I focus on my next set of chest presses. I needed to blow off some steam, so I came to the gym early before racquetball night.

She’ll be fine. She’s an adult. She can go on a date; a lot of people have survived these things over the years. I don’t know why I can’t get my brain to focus on anything else. I can practically picture her with her hair curled, falling around herface, wearing a cute dress with heels. It’s a little annoying how I can picture it clear as day.

I concentrate on my reps. I need to focus on something other thanScarlett. This is getting to be a problem. We’re not even close to the six-month mark, when Phoenix will be back from Boston. I don’t know how I’m going to survive being Scarlett’s glorified babysitter.

I don’t know what Phoenix expects me to do when she’s telling me to give her space.

When I showed up at Serendipi-Tea, I didn’t expect her to tell me to back off so soon. But I should’ve known. She knows what she wants, and she knows who she is. She doesn’t need somebody to tell her those things. So when I’m showing up at her dates—or at least being there to witness the embarrassing parts of them—it’s not exactly endearing to her.

I set down the dumbbell and stretch out my arms.

The thing is that I don’t know what Scarlett wants in a partner. My little crush on her is probably a lost cause. She keeps talking about me like I’m just like her brother. That means I need to get a grip.

I can’t give in to these feelings I have for her, this attraction I keep fighting. But I don’t know what the answer is—not when we’re forced to be around each other so frequently. Phoenix expects me to make sure she’s still breathing, at least.

I pick up individual weights and do some triceps work. After I finish my reps, I drop the weights to the ground. They clank loudly.

“What did that weight ever do to you?” Jack asks as he strolls into the gym. He’s wearing shorts and a tank top. He’s holding a racket and is ready for ball. He’s followed by Tim, who’s wearing his signature sweatband that’s holding back wispy white hair, and Enrique, a paramedic I work with, who’s wearing a practically sparkling white T-shirt.

“Are you guys ready to get your butts whooped?” I ask them.

Tim snorts. “Ha! I’ve yet to see you do it.”

“Of course we are,” Enrique pipes up. “Is that what happens when we win?”

He grins and tosses a ball at me. I catch it with my right hand and follow them down the hall toward the racquetball courts.

Tim is my grandpa’s best friend, and though Grandpa has slowed down over the years, Tim has continued with his racquetball obsession. I used to play with my grandpa and Tim when I was young, and it just kind of evolved into continuing to play with him into adulthood, even when my grandpa quit. Now, our racquetball nights have grown to include quite a group of people.

We usually get about ten regulars, but some nights we’ll have up to twenty if people bring their friends. It’s a great tradition—two nights a week—so that those who work at the fire station can hit at least one night based on how our schedules work out.

With it being a twice a week thing, the group is growing. It’s a good time—and a good way to get some cardio in without the pain of jogging down the road. It’s a mix of guys I’ve met at work, mutual friends, and random strangers we meet around town.

We meet the rest of the group in the hall, and we divvy up the teams. We like to switch it up regularly. Keeps things fair and fun. I started inviting the guys at the station to racquetball when I found out Linus had quit drinking. It’s a good outlet that doesn’t require alcohol. We’re probably all better off since Linus gave up drinking, now that I think about it.

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