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I couldn’t agree more. But it’s her that’s perfect. Her face glows with excitement, and her pink lips are ripe for kissing. Stop. Slow down. Don’t scare her off. You’ve spent three months waiting for the opportunity to speak to her. Don’t dry hump her leg and run her off.
Several minutes later, we have the five-foot tree with its smattering of ornaments decorated and twinkling against the windowpane. A miniature train track is laced around the base of the tree.
She dangles the three-car train complete with a locomotive, freight car, and a caboose. “Do you want to do the honors?”
“No.” I shake my head and shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts. The scent of cinnamon wafts throughout the room. It’s a homey, comforting scent. There must be a plug-in around here somewhere. “You go ahead.”
“Thank you.” She grins and places the train on the tracks.
Once she switches the button to ‘on,’ the red and black locomotive runs down the track, clicking and chugging until it switches from the long portion of the track and goes into the corner.
I hold my breath. Here goes nothing. It’s not like I’ve built a train track in the last twelve years. It swerves and takes off down the opposite side, going behind the tree. Everything stayed together. Thank you.
“Yes.” She laughs and pumps her hand into the air. “I was a little worried it would veer off the track and crash onto the floor.”
I clutch my chest in mock horror as fat snowflakes flutter downward past the window. It’s near freezing outside, and soon, there will be piles of snowdrifts along the highways. But for now, the few flakes will have to be enough. “That hurts. You’re questioning my construction skills. I’m an expert train track builder.”
“Yes, you are.” Her eyes dance in merriment, and the desire to wrap my arms around her and kiss her lips until her toes curl is overwhelming. I inhale and count to ten.
“Well….” I lick my lips as the central heat kicks on.
“Right.” She straightens, and all humor drops from her expression. “You should get back to your work. I’m sorry I took up so much of your time.”
“No. It’s–” Ring. Ring. Shit. My cellphone.
“You should get that.”
“It’s fine. It’s probably one of the guys looking for me.” My cellphone rings again.
“That’s more of a reason to get it.” Her eyes are wide, as if she’s worried I’ll get into trouble.
Ring. Ring. Seriously? I was about to ask her out, and one of these cockblockers is going to ruin it.
“Saylor, it’s fine.” I squeeze her upper arm.
“Get it. If you don’t, I’ll be worried.”
“Fine.” I drag my cellphone out of my pocket, and Madyson’s face pops up on the screen. Fuck. Bile rises in my throat. Why haven’t I blocked her? Probably because I never expected her to have the balls to call me again.
“Go ahead.” She nods toward the phone. “Get it.”
She has no idea what a sacrifice that is, but for her, I’d walk on burning coals. “Hello?”
“Why have you been dodging me?”
“I didn’t know you’d tried to call, and I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?” Her whiney voice grates on my nerves. What does she want?
We broke up three months ago. The day Saylor started at the stadium. They aren’t entirely related incidents. Yes, Saylor intrigued me the instant I saw her, but I broke up with Madyson because I caught her sucking off my limo driver. In my limo. During my charity event. She’s the epitome of tacky.
“Putting together a train.”
Saylor wipes her palms on her jeans and moves behind her desk.
“That’s stupid. Can’t you pay someone to put it together?”
“Sure, but where’s the fun in that?” I rotate my shoulders to ease some of the tension. I could have gone through the rest of my life without speaking to her again.
