“Amy, you have outdone yourself. I’m speechless, the house is everything I could have wanted and more, you’re a genius!” I said as soon as she picked up.
“I know, I know, my taste is impeccable. I knew you’d like it,” she stated modestly.
“Like is an understatement. You seriously need to undertake a career in interior design. Or mind reading, considering this is exactly what I wanted.”
“I can’t exactly pursue a career in the physic realm, considering I am opening a business on the edge of nowhere with my best friend,” she told me dryly.
I laughed. “Okay, well I need to unpack, I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate this. Can’t wait till you get here, love you.”
“You’re welcome, girl, see you tomorrow!” she chirped, ringing off.
I made my way back to my car on cloud nine and started the Herculean task of unpacking. My Mercedes was full to the brim, even with a lot of my stuff being sent ahead. What could I say? Being a girl and a buyer, I had a lot of shit. I opened my trunk, inspecting the sheer volume of bags for a second before trying to gather as many as I could into my arms.
“Need some help?” a deep voice asked from behind me.
“Holy fuck!”
I dropped all of my bags, nearly jumping out of my Manolos. I turned, intending to glare at the owner of the deep voice that had scared the bejesus out of me but stopped short. In front of me was a picture of pure male perfection. I looked a little harder. Well, maybe not so pure.
Tall, like really tall. I only came up to his shoulders and I was in six-inch heels. Rippling muscles threatened to tear the sleeves of his t-shirt and tattoos covered every inch of his impressive arms. His face was chiseled like a Greek god’s, with a square jaw and cheekbones to die for. Midnight black hair brushed his sharp jaw, he looked like Chris Hemsworth’s identical twin — well, his dangerous black-haired identical twin. A familiar intensity wafted off him, an air of menace in the way he held himself. Uh oh, this one was trouble, like serious trouble, the kind I swore off a year ago.
The hunk brought his hands up like I was pointing a gun at him, a grin highlighting his too kissable mouth, very kissable in fact. How could a guy who looked like he could bench press a car while making Vin Diesel cry have lips like that?
I bet he could do some things with those lips, wait…shut up ovaries!
“Whoa, darlin’, didn’t mean to scare you, just saw you with an arm full of bags and those are dangerous looking shoes to be carrying that amount of stuff on,” he explained gazing down at my (fabulous) shoes.
His gaze traveled up my jean clad legs to my top, which I now decided showed way too much of my modest chest. He finished at my eyes, and we stared at each other. His gaze was hungry and very male. I was mesmerized for a moment, and felt an ache between my thighs. I snapped myself out of it. Quickly. I didn’t need a man in my life, definitely not a man like this.
“Well, thanks for your concern, but I’m very capable of unpacking my car by myself, and for your information, I could run a marathon in these shoes,” I replied sharply.
A full on grin lit up Thor’s evil twin’s face, and he looked down at various bags strewn between us then back up at me.
“It’ll be much faster if I help. I’m not the kind of man to leave a woman in need and I’m also a sucker for an accent.”
His voice was rough and threatened to make me spontaneously combust. I really hoped he couldn’t see my nipples through my shirt. The man was some kind of crazy sex wizard.
He stepped forward and I slammed back into my car. My heart pounded at my rib cage, anxiety replacing the lust I was feeling moments ago. Noticing my reaction, he immediately stopped in his tracks, a frown marring his beautiful face.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told me carefully, eyes connecting with mine.
I swallowed. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t need any help, and if you don’t mind I have a lot to do.” My voice shook as I dismissed him.
He continued to frown at me. I felt uncomfortable under his dark gaze. This guy was intense.
“Okay then, if you’re sure. I’m Cade by the way. I’ll be seeing you round,” he promised.
Not if I see you first.
He paused for a moment, eyes still locked with mine before he turned, strutting – okay, maybe not strutting, but how can a man move his ass like that without strutting? I swore he was a wizard – over to a black SUV across the road before I could reply. It was only then I noticed the cut, one that was far too familiar. It had a different insignia on the back — a skeleton, riding a Harley, brandishing a sword. The top rocker read: “Sons of Templars MC.”
I braced myself against my car once again, struggling to stay up. My breath was shallow as I tried to chase away the horrible memories I had of men wearing vests just like that one.
You’re fine, Gwen, he didn’t hurt you. No one’s going to hurt you.
I took a second to pull myself together before I began to pick up my bags scattered along the ground. I squinted up to see that Cade, sitting in his truck and had witnessed my whole meltdown. I quickly peered down again until I heard his truck drive off.
I was at my store the next day, trying to sort through all my merchandise, humming to myself, delightfully content. Apart from my little incident with Cade, yesterday was a great day. I managed to get all my unpacking done and spend a wonderful night in my beautiful new home. I smiled to myself, thinking of how settled in I felt already. Bob Dylan’s voice filtered through the air, contributing to my feeling of zen. I looked up when the little bell over the door rang, Amy leaned against the frame with a huge smile painted on her face.
“Jesus fuck, Gwen, I think I may like it here. I just went to grab us coffees from next door,” she said, gesturing with the two takeaway cups in her hands, “and there was the most fuckable looking men sitting having coffee. I swear I almost came. What I would do to be those coffee cups…” she trailed off, waggling her brows.
“I’m glad there’s something in this town that is to your liking, Amy,” I replied dryly.
She set the coffees down and hugged me, enveloping me in a cloud of Chanel No. 5.
“I’m glad to be here, Gwennie, anything to help you get back to your old self.” Her eyes glistened.
“No, we are not having sad or depressing thoughts in my wonderful new store, or our wonderful new home for that matter,” I instructed. “We are starting fresh and there will be no mention of the dickwad, evil prick, okay?”
“Sounds good to me, girl. Now let’s get this place sorted, and then go home, get changed and go see if we can find somewhere to get a half decent cocktail,” Amy replied.
I gave her a blinding smile. This was why she was my best friend.
“Don’t you think we’re a bit too dressed up?” I asked Amy, looking down at my outfit self-consciously. My printed Prada skirt was skin tight, and my white blouse showed way too much cleavage.
“Bite your tongue, Gwen Alexandra,” Amy scolded. “There is no such thing as being overdressed. Ever. You are not changing who you are just because we’re not on our little island anymore, now let’s go.” She swatted my bum, strutting past me to the door.