Page 6 of Sweet on You
3
Lex
Well, shit. “Oh, God. Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” I rushed over to where shards of glass were sprayed inside the front seat of the Toyota RAV4. The kettlebell was perched neatly in the passenger seat like it was meant to be there, waiting to be buckled in.
What in the ever-living hell had I been thinking? I hadn’t been thinking, if I was being truthful. The second that biker guy started chatting Ronnie up, something primitive had taken over my brain.
The biker guy pulled over, hitting the kickstand of the bike and yanking his helmet off as Ronnie rushed over beside me.
I grabbed my cell from my back pocket. “I should call the cops, file a report and try to find the owner of the car—”
Ronnie placed her hand gently over the screen of my phone. “No need.”
“No need? Do you know whose car this is?”
The guy from the bike gave me a pitying smile, his helmet clutched in his hand. “It’s Veronica’s.”
Veronica’s. Ronnie’s. I should have been focusing on the fact that I had just smashed the window of the woman I’d been crushing on for two years. But for the life of me, all I heard in that moment was this man calling Ronnie by her full name. In a way that was more familiar than I had ever been with her. Veronica. It sat in my gut like undigested junk food.
Normally, I was even-keeled. Passive. I’d never thrown a punch in my life, except into a ball of dough that was in need of kneading. But the sight of this man—he was everything I wasn’t. Adventurous, riding a motorcycle. Casual, but stylish. Rugged. Me, on the other hand? I played life pretty safe and drove my little Fiat. I was far from trendy and stylish. And rugged? Yeah, not so much.
“It’s fine,” Ronnie said, but the expression on her face betrayed her words. “It’s fine,” she said again. Then repeated it one more time. Almost like, if she said those words enough, she could convince herself it was true.
“It’s not fine. I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me,” I said. Except Ididknow and when my gaze flicked to the biker guy—he seemed to know, too.
Ronnie eyed me up and down, her brow arching in a playfully discerning way. “You’re not on ‘roids, are you?”
I snorted a self-deprecating laugh and looked down at my body. I wasn’t a scrawny guy by any means, but I also definitely did not have the kind of muscles that came from steroids. I lifted an arm and flexed. “If I am, I think I need a refund.”
“Could have fooled me with the way you flung that kettlebell.”
I cringed. “Again, I’m so sorry. I’ll help you get it to the mechanic down the road and I’ll pay for it.”
Ronnie nodded, her face a ghostly shade of gray despite the smile she tried to plaster on her face. Which only made me feel worse. I didn’t deserve her kindness. Yes, it was an accident—but it was still my fault. “Let me check and see if the gym’s insurance will cover it first,” she said.
I shook my head. “No, because then your premium will go up. Save the insurance claim for something major. I can take care of this.”
In reality, I didn’t have a ton of cash lying around. Enough. I’d been good about squirreling away my savings and I was comfortable. But depending on the damage I’d done here, this could put a pretty sizable dent in the fifteen thousand dollars I had saved over the last few years.
Ronnie gave me a smile and placed her hand on my arm. “We’ll figure something out. It was my fault, too. I’m the trainer. I should have been making sure your form was—”
“It’s very sweet of you to try to share ownership of this fiasco, but it’s not true.” Ronnie had tried to stop me from my wild kettlebell swings and I simply didn’t listen.
“The car should still start just fine,” the biker guy said. “I can help you get it down there.”
“Don’t you have an appointment to get to at Elsa’s?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but she’ll understand.”
Ronnie looked between me and the biker guy, then swiped her hand across her brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Lex, this is James. James and I have known each other for years. Lex owns the bakery down the street.”
James took my hand. His grip was more firm than necessary in that stupid, macho way men typically shake hands. I was never one for displays of masculinity… well, hell. Not usually. Today wasn’t exactly a good indication of my typical personality. “Nice to meet you,” I said.
“I’ve had your croissants before,” James said. “They’re incredible. My husband and I were in there a few weeks ago and it was so damn good, we bought the whole box of day olds to eat the rest of the weekend.”
I inwardly cringed.Husband.He wasn’t even interested in Ronnie. I smashed her car window as a result of my effort to show up a man who had zero chance of having sexual chemistry with her.
“Actually,” He pointed at me. “I think Nate owns your building.”
