Swept Away (Wildfire Lake #3) - Skye Jordan Page 0,13

into Drive, sees me, and stops. We hold each other’s gaze through the window. There’s no more flirtation in the air, just the real him and the real me, sharing a silent bond that’s too complicated to explain with words.

He tilts his head, as if to say Are you okay?

Now that he’s out of the studio and I’ve got my safe space back, it’s easier for me to acknowledge that I’m not okay. That I want him so badly, it terrifies me. And not just for the sex. I think he and I could be something really special—if he wasn’t a player, and I wasn’t damaged.

But he is and I am.

I press my open hand to the window. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the only safe way to express how much I care about him. From a distance.

I smile, blow him a kiss, and wave.

He hesitates, but then starts out of the parking lot, and I chew on my lip, watching until he turns out of sight. When he does, a little light leaves my heart. For the millionth time, I wonder if I’ll ever be whole enough to trust my judgment again.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to date a man like Xavier. The rumors running around town about him are scorching, but I haven’t been with anyone in so long, I think I’ve forgotten how to do anything—kiss, sex, all of it.

Bodhi pulverized my self-esteem, and that’s not something that just grows back without effort, like weeds. It’s more like an orchid, needing constant attention and just the right conditions to blossom.

As soon as my mind turns that direction, an emotional brick wall appears, and I stop just short of running into it—my psyche reminding me that Xavier is exactly the kind of man I don’t want.

“What’s so interesting?”

The voice jolts me, and I jump. “Oh my God.” I spin toward KT, hand against my chest. “Where did you come from? I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I can see that.” She follows my line of sight. “What are you all lost in thought about?”

I shake my head and return the mop to the bucket. “What have you got in the bag?”

“Show me yours,” she says with a teasing singsong, “I’ll show you mine.”

Since I don’t want to show her mine, I glance toward the parking lot. “Where’s your truck?”

“Right beside your car. I picked up sandwiches for dinner. Ben’s working a night shift.” Ben is KT’s boyfriend and an ER doctor in town, and with him working, that means KT’s watching his three daughters. “Are you done with classes for the day?”

“Yeah. That was the last one I’m teaching until after the retreat.”

I move the mop and bucket into a closet, pick up my purse, keys, and sandwich, and lock up the studio. Then KT and I wander toward our vehicles together. It’s a gorgeous almost-summer day—blue sky and mild heat. On the rolling hillsides surrounding Wildfire, oak trees dot the golden mountains.

“So, what’s going on inside that head of yours?” KT asks. “And don’t even do that whole ‘nothing’ song and dance.”

When I don’t immediately answer, KT says, “Are you stressed over the retreat? You know we’ve got every minute of the next ten days nailed down to the wire.”

“I know. I am nervous, but in a good way.”

“Then what’s this”—she gestures toward me, indicating my mood—“about?”

I’m not sure I want to get into it with her. She and Laiyla are founding members of the do-Xavier team.

“It’s Wednesday early afternoon,” KT says, filling the silence, “which means you just finished a hot yoga class and hung out with Z while he ate lunch.”

We reach our vehicles, and when I turn to face her, I see movement in the alley running behind the storefronts of Main Street. Looks like a handful of teenagers hanging out.

“Is he dating someone again?” KT’s question draws my attention back. “You always get moody when he starts dating someone new.”

“I do not.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not up for the you’re-so-totally-secretly-in-love-with-the-man speech.”

“Good. It’s a waste of your energy.”

“If my hands were empty. I’d plug my ears and sing la-la-la-la-la to keep out the lies.” KT gets a wicked little smile. “Hey, have you seen his bod since he started CrossFit with Ben? That boy is ripped.”

My mind instantly slides backward thirty minutes, to a sheet across his lap and all the bronze skin against the white sheets. And, yes, he is most definitely ripped. “Not what I need to