Igniting the Wild Sparks (10 page)

Though not as big as Ivan’s, Shane’s well-defined biceps are on full exhibition in a dark blue tank top as he continues to write. Rod would definitely cry. Without looking up, he asks,
“Did you have a good weekend?” His question actually startles me. What’s his deal? No snotty remark about my tardiness?

I uncertainly answer, “I did.
How was yours?”

His blue eyes glance at me from underneath his shaggy,
yet oddly well-groomed, light brown hair falling over his forehead. “It was fine.”

“Did you do anything fun?” Why in the hell do I care?

“Fun?”

“You know. Hacking into someone’s Facebook to post embarrassing information about them, scaring small children at a park, robbing little old ladies in a parking lot…”

Raising his head to regard me full on, his brown eyebrows yank together, clearly not getting my joke. No surprise there. “Why would I do those things for
fun
, Ms. Beckett?”

“
Please call me Hadley.
Ms. Beckett
is downright creepy.” Shane lowers the clipboard and holds it over his crotch—not that I’m looking—and drums his fingers. He contritely smiles, making me instantly suspicious because Shane Parker does not smile. Even if it’s a forced one, he actually has an exceptionally nice smile, which stuns me momentarily. “Sorry,
Hadley
. I heard you are on a softball team?”

I gingerly nod and twist my ring. “
Boring news travels fast.”

“It does.”
Pulling the clipboard to his hip, he steps back, cocking his head as he strangely assesses me. “You’ve lost weight.”

Is he sniffing paint? I give him a dubious look. “Isn’t that the point to all of this exercising?”

He shakes his head, still studying my body, which makes me wind my arms together to block as much of me as I can. “No. Yes. I mean, we’re building muscle more than losing fat. You’ve lost at least three pounds since Friday.”
Well, that tank top is too tight on you, Mr. Parker.

Okay. It’s not.

I protectively cross my arms over my chest. “Oh, my sweet corn. How can you tell I’ve lost that exact amount?”

He conceitedly smirks
, which makes his eyes crinkle. “That’s my job.”

I flinch and glance away from him. “It’s still weird.”

“Are you eating?”

Looking back to him, I scornfully reply,
“Yes. I just ate a bunch of fattening food last night, so you’re wrong.” Not all of it, but enough.

“Are you under stress?”

“Who isn’t?”

“Is it your boyfriend?”
I note the disapproving emphasis he puts on
boyfriend
.

I tighten my arms.
“I thought you weren’t going to talk about him anymore?”

Shane puts his free hand on his hip and with a straight face, answers,
“I’m only asking out of concern. I promise.”

I roll my eyes.
“No. It’s not Finn.” I’m not confessing my personal life to a wicked warlock.

He flips his brown hair out of his eyes
with a flick of his head. “Have you started new medication?”

“No.”

Narrowing his eyes, he regards me as a puzzle once more. “Hmm. Did you find a dress for the wedding yet?”

“No. Why?”

He taps at his bottom lip before saying, “When you do, you might want to hold off getting it altered until the last minute in case you lose more.”

“I’m not in some sort of weight loss spiral. It’s three pounds. That’s a good thing. Can we drop the questioning about my weight?”

He bestows me with another haughty half-smile. “Like I said, it’s my job to know your body. In fact, I’m quite skilled. More than you think.”

What the fuck?

He doesn’t seem to notice my psychotic collapse at the thought of Shane knowing my body at all because he nonchalantly asks, “So, is your boyfriend going to accompany you for sure to the wedding?” Again, noting the inflection.

Guardedly gathering my wits,
I shrug. “I don’t know yet. If not, I have a backup date, so you won’t be able to make fun of me too much.”

Shane frowns.
“I wasn’t going to do that. I was going to ask you to be my date if you needed one.”

Now
I’m
confused. “What? You’d actually want to hang out with me without tearing my throat out?”

He lightly chuckles and shakes his head, his blue eyes filled with genuine amusement, I think.
The sight and sound of him laughing astonishes me more than him smiling. “I don’t hate you. As a matter of fact, I think you’re funny.”

Totally c
onfounded, I narrow my eyes, my mouth gaping at him at the same time. “That’s a new one.”

He nods.
“You are. Do you make your boyfriend laugh, too?” This time, he doesn’t try to incite me.

“
Not really.” Apparently, I’m all about frustrating Finn.

“Well, just keep me in mind if you need a date. I’ll save a couple dances for you anyway.”

My eyes make no effort to hide my complete shock. “Why?”

He shrugs.
“We have to dance a couple together, don’t we?” That won’t be awkward.

“
Yes. Oh. Morgan wanted me to remind you of a tux fitting this week.” He probably could squeeze that in next to his hour of stabbing puppies.

He lifts his clipboard, and flipping the page, jots down a reminder, I’m assuming. He nods and looks at me.
“Got it. Ivan was mentioning having a bonfire on the beach the night before, after the rehearsal. That sounds fun.” I didn’t think
fun
was anywhere in Shane’s vocab.

Feeling suddenly weird talking to Shane
Parker so civilly, I restlessly tug at my ponytail. “Yeah. Sounds cool.”

“I’ll save you a seat then.”

“Okay, but I’ll probably be sitting on Finn’s lap,” I quip, but then regret I said that for fear I sound like a codependent nympho.

Shane smirks again.
“I can’t blame him.” I again resemble a dumbfounded large-mouth bass.

He tosses his clipboard down
onto a mat and barks, “I want three sets of lunges, Ms. Beckett! Go!”

I sigh. “Happy damn
Monday to me.”

CHAPTE
R 6

FINN

“When were you going to tell me we’re coaching your
girlfriend’s
softball team?”

Irritably setting down the weight I’m lifting with a loud metallic clank, I peer up at Cara, who is standing in front of me with her hands on her hips. What the hell is her problem? She’s been giving me dirty looks all damn day and it’s pushing past annoying. “Uh, I was going to mention it, but her name isn’t all that common and I thought maybe you’d recognize her from Chimborazo. I gathered you might put two and two together. I guess you didn’t.”

Cara crisscrosses her arms underneath her ample tits and agitatedly starts prancing in circles. “No, I didn’t realize that was her. I don’t remember you ever calling a
Hadley
on the roster, and I told you I only saw her from a distance at the park.”

She’s making no sense to me. “Why are you pissed off?”

Stopping, she glares at me, but then shakes her head. “I’m not. Well, I am a little. You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t. What’s the big deal?” I pick up my towel and wipe off my face before draping it over my shoulders. Cara’s eyes freeze on me. What’s her problem
now
?

She blinks rapidly before speaking. “I assumed you would’ve told me something as important as your girlfriend being on the team.”

I shrug. “Sorry. Now you know. I didn’t do it to be spiteful. I just didn’t think it was a big deal and I thought you’d figure it out.” That’s a lie. It is a big deal. To me.

Cara sighs and almost resentfully acknowledges, “She’s really pretty.”

Hadley Beckett is more than
pretty
. Just thinking about her…

Fuck.

“I know she is.” I quickly stand and walk over to work on my back and shoulders, hoping to get my mind temporarily off Becks, and that Cara will leave me alone. However, I’m not so lucky since she trails behind me. I’m not in the mood for this interrogation shit. If I were, I would’ve called Ricky, though, my mom is the real pro.

I sit and pull down on the handles, trying so hard to focus on anything else. Why did I have to forget my phone and ear buds in my office? Damn it.

Cara used to be cool to hang out with. I liked shooting the breeze with her, but somehow and rather suddenly, she’s turned into a nagging mosquito that won’t leave me alone about Becks.

She takes a seat across from me on another machine, without any intent on working out herself. “So you call her
Becks
. Where’d that come from?” It’s not obvious?

Between presses, I drone, “Her last name. Beckett.” I’m not getting into the story of us playing soccer. That’s too private for me to share with Cara because that’s the moment when I fell utterly and helplessly in love for the first time in my life. And the last.

“It’s adorable.” Another word that follows me around. “Have you two talked anything out?”

“We had dinner last night.” I’m such a dumbass. Now I’m only feeding her fire.

“When is she going to move in with you?”

“Soon, I hope.”
Now go away, Cara. You’re not the woman I want to see more of.

“I knew something was going on with you. I caught you staring at her too many times to count. I thought you might be developing a crush on her.”

I look over at her as I push the handles back up. “It’s more serious than a crush.”

“I can see that.” I go back to staring at the wall in front of me and don’t respond. “She’s actually not what I imagined your girlfriend to look like.”

I capriciously let go of the handles, causing them to loudly clang and vibrate the entire machine. I tersely glare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She’s working my last damn nerve.

She summarily says, “I pictured you dating a model-type. More charismatic. A bigger rack, maybe. Someone taller. She’s what 5’2, 5’3”? She’s little.”

“Huh?” She’s attacking Becks? Oh, hell no. “Why does it matter how tall she is? What? Do I have
douchebag
written across my forehead?”

“No, but you’re a very handsome, local celeb. You could have your pick of any woman who watches your sportscast on TV or the Internet. Why would you settle down with just one?”

My teeth bite shut and I practically growl, “Because I love her, Cara. She’s the only woman I want.
That’s
why.”

Looking to be taken aback, she tries to recant.  “Don’t get so defensive about her.”
I’d defend Becks with my life
. “I was just pondering it. You two look cute together.” There’s that word I can’t get away from.

I finally tear my eyes away from her and mumble, “Thanks.” I testily grip the bars again and try to salvage the time I have left.

“She seems to hang around that guy, Rod, a lot.”

“Yeah, so?” Shit. My workout is shot.

“They seem very close.”

My irritation is increasingly seeping through. “They are. Again,
so
?”

“Doesn’t that bother you? He’s kind of touchy-feely with her. They were constantly sitting together, throwing together, whispering together….everything together. He obviously has a fondness for her.”

Increasing my reps, I edgily say, “They’re just friends.”

“If you say so. I don’t see that. I think Ricky is suspect of him, too.”

“Ricky doesn’t have a problem with Rod like that.” Ricky thinks Rod’s an all-around strange guy and says it’s hilarious that I was ever jealous of him. That’s my best friend. Taking any opportunity to nail my balls to the wall.

“I would just watch them a little more closely. If you don’t, he might steal Hadley away from you.”

I openly scowl at her. “He wouldn’t do that. Hadley wouldn’t do that to me. She thinks of him like a brother.” So they both have made quite clear to me.

I trust them.

I trust Becks.

“Yes, but it’s quite clear that he doesn’t think of her as a sister. He watches her as much as you do.”

Lifting the bar up, I look straight ahead. I don’t want Cara to know I’m wavering, yet in their defense I say, “He keeps an eye on her. That’s what friends do.”

“Okay. I’m trying to be your friend, too. I’m only warning you to keep a more
open
eye on both of them. I don’t want her hurting you.”

I grit my teeth and briefly glance at her. “She won’t.”

I pray she doesn’t.

After my shower, I go back to my office. Sitting at my desk, I try to return to my Internet search for cabins while I wait for our next meeting to start, but after what Cara said to me during my workout about Becks and Rod, I can’t concentrate. They did seem chummier during practice and he did touch her more than I’m used to seeing. Even his joking with her is raunchier lately
. At the kite festival, he had joked about looking up her dress, but we’ve since talked it out. He thinks of Becks as a sister. However, at practice Saturday, he did
joke
about her having his kid.
Not in this lifetime
. I was so damn close to throttling him in front of his coworkers, which I’m sure would’ve gone over magnificently with my girlfriend. Then, he mouthed off about seeing Becks naked at her apartment while she was taking a shower. Should all this really concern me? She says she loves me and Rod is only her friend. I believe her. Am I not right to do so? Should I still suspect them carrying on an affair right under my nose?

We had a talk last night over dinner about honesty. I pray to God she’s being honest and staying true to me.

Picking up an ink pen, I twirl it between my fingers as my mind continues to race. Becks says she needs time to think. About me or about Rod? If she is pregnant, is it even mine? I don’t want that fucking thought in my head, but it’s there. It’d
better
be mine. I’m the one who made love to her without protection three times last weekend, or is she fucking him without it, too, hoping one of us knocks her up?

Would Becks do that to me?

Impulsively, I throw down the pen and roughly sit back in my chair. My hands fly up to my face and I tensely breathe in behind them.

Oh, fuck. I wish these thoughts would stay the hell out of my damn head.

This damned week is crawling. It’s Wednesday night and I’ve only talked to Becks on the phone before she goes to bed, with nothing much being said. She promised we’d get together this weekend and the wait is killing me. I want her at my place when I come home from work Friday night. I don’t even want us to go practice this weekend since I’m not in a sharing frame of mind. The only thing I want to share is my bed with her.

Lying on my navy blue couch watching some science show, my phone rings and I hurriedly reach down on the cushion to pick it up, nearly dropping it on the floor in the process. “Hey, baby.”

Her smile is evident as she talks. “Sparks. It’s so good to hear your voice. How was your day?”

I smile because I know she is. “Shitty, but it’s over. How was yours?”

“It was okay. Morgan and I are going dress shopping Friday after work. Then, Saturday morning we’re driving to Virginia Beach to meet with the hotel and the officiant to hammer out details and such.”

What the hell is she doing?

I promptly sit up and mute the TV. “What time are you leaving Saturday morning? That’s a two-hour drive.”

“Around 7:30. I’m going to stay at Morgan’s Friday night so we can just leave from there.”

I cuttingly inhale and blow out in frustration. “Becks, are you kidding me? You said you’d stay with me this weekend.”

“I will. Saturday night.”

“Night? I have a dare at the Richmond International Speedway Saturday afternoon. I won’t be at practice, but I’ll be done sometime around 4:00. I’m all yours after that. We don’t have to wait for that night.”

“Morgan invited us to dinner.”

Fuck
. “What? You told her we’d go?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I? Don’t you want to go?”

“No. I’d rather be spending time with you.”

“We will be spending time together.” Why is she acting so clueless?

Leaning forward, I rest my elbow on my thigh, my forehead in my hand. “Alone, Becks. I want to be alone with you.” Why is that so hard for her to understand?

“We will be after dinner. You can do anything you want with me then.” Right. As long as I put on a condom first. Is she even going to sleep in the same bed as me or will I be relegated to being jacked off on the couch like she used to do before we started having sex?

Whatever she decides, I have to go with it.

Again.

I roll my eyes as I accept defeat. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“We have to use birth control, though. I know you have issues with the type we use now.” Why does she have to get into this shit now? The last thing I want to talk about is keeping my dick covered up in some way or another when we’re together this weekend.

“Well, we don’t need any if the damage is already done.”