Jessica Lemmon - Hard to Handle

This, she could not allow.

She took a few deep breaths, sealing her emotions behind a brick wall of confidence. She could do this, could ignore the shake working its way down her arms to her fingers and causing her pen to rattle. Or so she thought. It was hard to write legibly when her body shook like she’d mainlined a triple espresso.

Giving up her note-taking, she propped her elbows on a shelf. She was grateful the store lights were off, and sucked in a clarifying breath. She visualized her anger ebbing, but it didn’t recede. It persisted, simmering just under the surface. How had Perry found out about Aiden? They didn’t know each other. She hadn’t shared her heartbreak with anyone at work. Unless…

She had several phone conversations with Crickitt last year, especially after Aiden left for Oregon. Many of them were made from the faux privacy of her open-air cubicle. Anyone could have heard. Perry could have easily eavesdropped and mentally logged the conversations for later…to throw her off when she was getting ahead.

“Bastard,” Sadie growled as the overhead lights winked on.

“Hope you’re not talking about me,” Aiden said, strolling down the aisle in her direction.

Sadie faced him. He looked as warm and welcome and familiar as Perry did standoffish, undesirable, and douchey. She shook her head. “Not you.”

Aiden assessed her before offering her the mug in his hand. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

“Only if there’s whiskey in it.”

“Like I said.”

She couldn’t help it, she smiled. And at Aiden’s insistence, she accepted the mug and took a sip. No whiskey, but it did have some sort of flavored creamer in it. “Thank you for this,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He put his hands in his pocket. Boy, could the man fill out a pair of jeans. “Who’s giving you trouble?” She dragged her eyes from his muscular thighs to his face. “I’ll beat him up for you. Unless it’s Axle, then you’re on your own.”

“Just some jerk I work with.” Her smile remained. She couldn’t call up her anger at Perry. Whatever fury saturating her bloodstream earlier had evaporated, fleeing with Aiden’s arrival. He watched her with those sparkling green eyes of his, half his mouth quirked into a sideways smile. There had always been something about him that calmed her, eased her from the ledge of emotions she sometimes teetered on.

The night she met him at the club, she’d attempted to be mean. He didn’t let her. Simply took her hand and dragged her onto the floor, matching her step for step to “The Electric Slide.” She didn’t know what was more ridiculous: the stupid line dance or that the worst song ever recorded was linked to one of her most cherished memories. The thought made her pause, caused her smile to drop.

Aiden didn’t notice. He’d already started toward the back of the store. “Gonna get more coffee,” he called over his shoulder, reaching up to tap the doorway over his head as he walked under it. “Since somebody is drinking mine.”

*  *  *

Giving Sadie his coffee hadn’t completely erased the devastation she’d hauled into the shop with her this morning. Not that he’d expected miracles, but he made really, really good coffee. She’d snapped out of her bad mood for an hour or so, but after, there’d been a constant frown marring her features.

Watching her dash back and forth to the warehouse, take things off of the display tables only to put them back on, and switch out the mannequins clothing in the front window three times (that he’d seen) was wearing him out. Normally she’d have left by now, to run more sales calls or go back to her office and finish out the day.

Not today, though. Today, she was avoiding something. If he had to guess, the office, and her insulting coworker.

Just some jerk I work with.

Aiden could meander on over to Midwest Motorcycle Supplies and find said jerk she worked with. He could have a talk with him. Or hit him. Whichever came first.

An hour before Axle’s closed, Aiden spotted Sadie at the window, fretting over what geometric shape to stack the Midwest boxes on the table. She darted past him and went outside, scowling through the window at her display. Unhappy, she came back in and started dismantling the pile. Again.

With a shake of his head, Aiden returned to the chore he’d been avoiding all week. Stocking key chains wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of stimulation, but it was a necessary part of running the store. He knelt and opened the box and pulled out several bags filled with assorted plastic key fobs. Each had a funny saying on it, but he’d since stopped reading them with comprehension, losing track of time in the task of filling the pegs on the shelf he’d assembled.

“‘You look like I need a drink.’”

Aiden looked up to find Sadie standing at the counter, a key chain dangling from her finger. “Is this supposed to be funny?” she asked, waving the square of plastic.

Aiden stood and unhooked the keychain from her finger. “Well, not when you read it like that.” He returned it to the display and handed her another. “I do like this one, though.”

“‘I pray God’s not too picky,’” Sadie read. Her glossed lips tilted, but more in a show of indecision than amusement. She spun the rack before pulling another off the peg and holding it up for him to see.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, make him rich and make him tall.

“Well, I’m tall.” He took it from her and returned it to its peg. “But Shane’s the rich one.” Aiden leaned in a little closer, watching Sadie’s eyes darken despite her attempt not to react to his nearness. “Sorry, he’s married.”

A smile tickled the corner of her mouth but rather than comment, she pulled another keychain and handed it to him.

Aiden raised an eyebrow at her. “‘Never miss a good chance to shut up’?” It was a small laugh, one she recovered from quickly, but he was making progress. He turned the stile, choosing his comeback carefully. “Ah,” he said when he landed on it. He slid it across the counter in front of her.

She leaned over it and read, “‘Remember this face; you’ll see it in your dreams.’”

He mirrored her posture. “So true,” he murmured softly.

Her smile faded and her cheeks went pink.

He held her gaze. “What’s his name?”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she regrouped. “Who?”

“The jerk at Midwest I need to have a chat with.”

“Perry,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “He thinks I sleep with my clients.”

Aiden narrowed his eyes. “And by chat I mean force feed a knuckle sandwich.”

“Easy, tiger.” She put her hand on his arm and Aiden felt a tiny bead of sweat prickle his upper lip. If she did sleep with her clients, he’d be first in line…and pummel anyone else who dared get in line behind him.

Sadie bit her lip. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, his mind still on Sadie sleeping with him. He licked his lips. “Sure,” he croaked, inappropriate ideas popping in his head like a string of firecrackers.

“Do you think I muscled you into signing the Midwest contract?”

“Yes,” Aiden answered.

Sadie winced.

Aiden caught her hand when she started to walk away from him. “I’m glad you did. It’s fair. And the work you’re doing is beyond what anyone else would have offered.”

“Perry wouldn’t have had to swindle you. He would have bought you an expensive gift and taken you out for drinks,” she grumbled.

“You can take me out for a drink,” Aiden said, suddenly wanting that more than anything.

Sadie didn’t bite, pulling her hand free. “Ha-ha. You know what I mean. He would have wined and dined you. Wooed you. I offered to clean out your warehouse.”

Aiden’s thoughts were stuck on the wining and dining part. Or, more accurately, the one dinner date he’d taken Sadie on last year. The date had continued through morning. After breakfast, he’d sneaked her to the back of his parents’ property and led her up to his childhood tree house. Since his parents had no idea he was divorced, he had to settle for introducing Sadie to his mother from afar. Sadie had leaned against him, golden sunlight filtering in her hair, and watched his mother prune her prized rosebushes. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them had to.

It was a memory he’d never, ever forget. Sadie may not have met his mother, but she’d seen her. He considered how special that was, how anyone he dated in the future wouldn’t have the same opportunity. Sharing those precious minutes with Sadie made her uniquely qualified to understand what he’d been through. Some of the tension knotting his chest loosened.

The way it always did when she was around.

He opened his mouth to ask her out to dinner. Out for a drink. Out, hell, anywhere for a few stolen minutes, but Sadie backed away from him before he could.

“I should get out of here,” she announced. “Lots to do.” She muttered something about finishing the display window later.

Her loud farewell was such a departure from his thoughts, Aiden simply watched as she gathered her things and walked out the door.

Sadie sat at her desk, fingers nested in her hair, and stared at the invitation on the screen. Rick Hammond’s Summer’s Passing party happened every year. She’d attended every year for the last four years.

How had she forgotten?

Now she stared at the colorful website and debated which of the responses to click. There was a YES, a MAYBE, and a clever NO, I’M LAME. She considered clicking the latter. That would be the most honest response. She was lame.