Once I signed with the label and started getting recognized more often, going to a public gym was out of the question. Besides, this is more convenient anyway.
Sitting in the black wood rocking chair on my wrap-around porch with my coffee and a cigarette in hand, I watch as Josiah rides his fancy little motorcycle down my long gravel road. Probably not the best driveway for a bike.
He parks, putting down the kickstand, and it’s nauseating how fucking hot he looks.
How effortlessly sexy he is. And always has been.
Josiah is an Adonis. He’s heartache and sin all wrapped up in a pair of tight Wranglers.
Removing his black helmet, he sets it on the handlebar of his bike, dragging a hand through his dark hair. His gray eyes find mine, a smirk tugging on his full pink lips. The leather jacket he’s wearing looks worn in, and he’s got on a pair of black boots, looking ever the part of a Nashville resident.
Strolling up the steps to my front porch, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a pack of smokes. He glances all around before asking, “This your house, country boy?”
“It sure is,” I drawl, bringing the cigarette to my lips and taking a drag. Letting my eyes rake over him, I murmur, “Not exactly gym appropriate clothes you got on.”
Josiah chuckles, the sound sending a chill down my spine. “Yeah, well, athletic shorts aren’t exactly a good choice for riding.” He turns slightly, pointing to his bag over his shoulder. “I brought some clothes I can change into.”
Definitely don’t need the image of him changing in my house swirling around in my head.
“The gym is around back, but I can take you inside so you can use the bathroom to change.”
“You live here alone?”
“Why?” I arch a brow. “You planning on murdering me?”
His laughter is vibrant. It’s a sound I could listen to over and over, and never get sick of. “No, jackass, I was just asking. It’s a nice place.”
Taking one last drag, I put it out in the ashtray before standing. “Thanks. Augustine, my security guard, lives here too, but it’s my place. Bought it a few years back when I signed on with my label.”
He nods, eyes focused on mine with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
“So have you, Mr. I Own Two Businesses.”
“Yeah, hasn’t been too bad.”
Silence descends upon us for a moment, and I hate how awkward it feels around him. Especially when I can remember a time when things were so comfortable between us, we could sit for hours without a word exchanged and feel at peace. I rub along the back of my neck, not really sure what the fuck I’m even doing.
Why would I invite him here? To myhouse.
“Ready?” I ask, nodding my head toward the front door, not willing to stand here in this silence any longer.
Josiah takes one last drag, putting it out, before he nods and follows me inside.
While he changes, I grab us a couple water bottles from the fridge. It doesn’t take him long, and I’d love to be able to say I wasn’t fantasizing about how he looked, naked in my bathroom, the whole time.
But that would be a lie.
I totally did. Shamelessly.
As we make our way out the back door and across the lawn, I wonder if Augustine is possibly in there working out. He does that a lot. I swear all of his free time is spent in the gym.
The responsible part of my brain hopes he is because that’ll lessen the chances of anything happening that shouldn’t. It’ll help to avoid the conversations from swerving in a direction they shouldn’t. But the part of my brain that’s always seemed in control around Josiah hopes like hell he isn’t because the idea of being alone with him, even though I shouldn’t, is too appealing and thrilling to pass up.
The glaring question of why I even thought it was a good idea to invite him over is still screaming inside my mind as I try to keep my gaze ahead, and not turn my head to take him in. I think a part of me thought I could give thisfriendshipa chance, but now that he’s here, in my space with nothing keeping us apart, it’s like every single desire I’ve ever had for him is flooding my senses. We can’t be friends.
Luckily—or not—for me, the gym is empty when we step inside, my stomach fluttering as I flip on the lights. We share a brief look before we separate, each taking one side, and working our way from one machine to the next. I turn on music, the sound filtering through the speakers placed around the room.
During this time, neither of us says much to the other. It’s odd how comfortable it is to be in here with him, especially with how stifling it was when he first got here. The lack of conversation doesn’t feel awkward, and I don’t feel the need to fill the silence with chatter. I do, however, wonder how he’s feeling being here right now. It could be that because it’s my house, I’m so content.
