Run to Love (Triple R Book 1) (6 page)

“And just where do you think you’re going, Miss Bradenhurst?” I heard behind me as I clicked my heels across the floor.

I spun. “Mr. Sheffield? Hello … again. I hope that truck is working out for you.”

“That truck is perfect. My wife’s driving it right now. I foresee having to get her one soon.”

“Good to hear. Mr. Sheffield, is there something else I can help you with?”

“Actually, there is. Ryker! Grandson, come here and meet your salesperson.”

A young man strolled over to us, and we shook hands. Gus introduced us formally, but I asked them to call me by my first name.

“Presley, I want to buy my grandson his first car,” Gus said with a smile.

My eyes started to cloud with tears.

I’m actually going to do it. I’m going to beat Drexel Mason.

I cleared my throat and collected my thoughts. “Okay, let me set these things down in my office and I’ll be right back.” By the time I made it to my office, the shock had worn off. I awkwardly high-fived myself and giggled my way back to the front.

It took two hours to find the right car, but we did, and Ryker couldn’t have been more thrilled. A used late-model Mazda 3, silver, manual, and sporty. He looked like he was going to break out in some sort of teenage jig in celebration.

When the deal was done, Charlie met me on the showroom floor to say good-bye to them.

After they’d left, I turned to him. “Did you have something to do with that?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No, Presley, that was all you. Gus was thoroughly impressed … with you. To see Ryker all grown up was great. He’s so proud of that young man and since he’s now the male figure in Ryker’s life, he takes that role seriously. Presley, you did it! I’m sure Drexel will have a shit-fit tomorrow, but you deserve it. Can’t wait to put your smile up there on the Wall of Monthly Best.”

I pursed my lips, then I told Charlie thank you, and that I needed to get to an appointment. I was completely overwhelmed by the events of the day and partially exhausted to the bone. I gave the evening phone staff high-fives before leaving, and Charlie chuckled.

I got to my car and took a deep breath before pulling out my phone.

Prez:
U up for Chinese?

Willow:
Are you trying to get out of paying the twenty dollar-holy-shit-tariff by charming me with food?

I laughed. Forgot about that.

Willow spent the night out with friends. She didn’t come home until really, really late—or early, depending on one’s view.

Prez:
No, I’ll get you the $20, too. Kung Pao Chix and crab rangoon okay?

Willow:
Perfect!

After calling in the to-go order at Golden Dragon and picking it up, I drove into the garage of the townhouse while I blasted my favorite Foo Fighters CD.

Willow greeted me with a beer and ‘I’m-absolutely-not-going-anywhere’ clothes.

“Okay, you have a shit-eatin’ grin on your face, Presley. What’s up?” she asked, plopping onto the couch and opening the brown paper bag to remove its delicious contents.

I sat on the couch. “I did it. I finally beat Dixless. I will be the top salesperson this month.”

“Congratulations, Prez! I knew you could do it.” Willow tackled me into a big hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

I sat back and reveled in the feeling. Success and happiness. There was only one thing missing, someone special—other than Willow—to share the moment with. Willow was great, and I appreciated her support, but I wanted someone to fill the other voids in my life. I shook my head. Didn’t need to find that tonight. Tonight is about celebrating.

I drank a long swig of Willow’s favorite lemon-infused craft beer and set the brown bottle on the coffee table to start eating what Willow had dished out onto a plate.

After devouring a crispy crab rangoon, Willow wiped her mouth. “Why don’t we go out tomorrow night to celebrate? Bring Jace along?”

“I haven’t seen her in forever.” I downed the rest of my beer as the meal seared my palate with the spice of chilies. “Maybe do a little West O barhopping?”

“I love it!”

While Willow looked over my shoulder, I texted Jace.

Prez:
Hey Sexy! Girls’ Night Out tomorrow with W? You in?

Willow and I watched some
Friends
reruns until we were quoting lines along with the characters. We both decided an early night wouldn’t be a bad thing for either of us. The current activity was pointless if we’d seen every episode to the point of memorization. Plus, we both admitted to being worn out, me from the day’s events and Willow from getting no sleep the night before.

In bed, I grabbed the latest romance book I was reading from the nightstand. My phone buzzed.

Jace:
I am in! Broke up with Taylor on Monday. :-( Could use a Girls’ Night Out with my BFFs and a random forget-about-my-troubles hookup. I’m off at 4 tomorrow, so I can Happy Hour if anyone else can

Prez:
Sorry about Taylor. :-( You will find the right person, totally believe that … pinkie swear. Glad you can join us!

Jace:
Are we celebrating or just going out?

Prez:
Celebrating! I’m going to be Salesperson of the Month! I’m off at 5, but I’ll let Willow know you could meet her, she’s off at 2 or 3, I think.

Jace:
Congrats sweetie! You definitely deserve it. Dixless can suck donkey-dix! Luv u!

Prez:
Love you too! <3 TTYL

I met Jaclyn (Jace for short) Zelensky at the University of Nebraska here in Omaha. We were in several business classes together. She accepted a job as a project manager for Wattier & Buchman, an advertising, public relations, and marketing company. Jace loved her bosses. They were a couple that epitomized true love according to Jace. I think they kind of made her jealous. I didn’t blame her. Listening to her talk about them, I was kind of jealous, too. She deserved someone special to spend her life with. Jace’s last partner, Taylor, was nice, but didn’t understand Jace’s professional drive.

Sometimes I wondered if that would happen to me, too. I worked long hours and, like tonight, I sometimes stayed long after I should have left the dealership. Selling cars wasn’t eight to five. Ever. I needed someone who understood the need to put forth that kind of effort at work.

My phone buzzed next to me on the bed. Jace probably forgot something.

Unknown number. I opened the text.

Unknown:
Hi, Jude here.

I stopped reading right there. How? Why? What for? A million questions spun through my head and my blood rushed through my veins at NASCAR speed.

Finish reading the text and find out!

Unknown:
Hi, Jude here. Just wanted to remind you-5am tomorrow. I’ll be there. Can’t wait to make you sweat. J

“Holy shit!”

“Now you owe me forty dollars!” Willow chuckled and the sound carried through the wall.

“No, I don’t. That wasn’t an orgasmic ‘holy shit’ that was an I-can’t-believe-what-I-just-read ‘holy shit’.”

“What can’t you believe?”

“My trainer just texted me a reminder and he says that he, and I quote, ‘can’t wait to make me sweat’!”

“You need to jump that stud. He’s sending signals, Prez. Trainers don’t remind people of appointments. They get paid if you show or don’t.”

I remained quiet and stilled for a long time. My brain and body weren’t communicating. Terrified that making a move would set off a nuclear reaction of overwhelming emotion, I was stuck in a weird frozen state of being.

“Are you okay, Presley?” Willow had this weird intuition that used to bug me. She predicted when I was going to crash into myself, the ripples of my psyche cracking and crumbling, but instead of telling me what was going to happen, now she supported me and let me work out the emotional fallout on my own … most of the time. My coping skills had come a long way, but there was always a possibility that a giant emotional tidal wave would pull me under.

Relationship stuff like this could do that to me. I could drown in all the thinking and overthinking the details I’d already thought I’d thought about, drowning until I was a pile of human goo on the sofa watching every sappy and heart-wrenching
Lifetime
movie out there for weekends on end. Years of therapy helped, but I was still a bipolar worrywart. The worry rode slowly over me in extremes. The middle homeostatic good-type-of-worry area grew over time, but at that moment, I was 100 percent freaked out.

I inhaled a deep breath to calm my frantically beating heart. “Yeah, I’m okay. No Ben and Jerry’s meltdown. I’m going to text him back ‘thanks’ and move on. He’s going out with Emerson tomorrow night anyway. If he’s into her, he definitely doesn’t want me! I mean … she’s gorgeous and I’m—”

I swore I heard Willow growl or grunt or gargle or something.

What the hell was that?

When her voice came back, it was probably heard in the next county. “Presley, you are beautiful! How many times do I have to tell you that!” She calmed, then added, “You were beautiful before you started working out and eating better, but now, my sister from another mother, you are … Drop. Dead. Gorgeous. I swear. I wouldn’t lie to you. You know that.”

“I know,” I mumbled.

Willow wouldn’t lie, but the word “beautiful” just never came to mind when I weighed—what I weighed. I hated to think in numbers and I wouldn’t ever again. Healthy physically, emotionally, and mentally was all that mattered.

Prez:
Thanks for the reminder. I’ll be there.

I went back to my book. My phone buzzed.

Jude:
My pleasure. How was your day?

Small talk? Really?

I could have ignored him. But I didn’t.

Prez:
Good, actually, really good. I will be the top salesperson for the month.

Jude:
Congratulations! Blake told me you are a great car salesperson.

Blake said that? How sweet.

Prez:
Thanks.

I stopped typing and contemplated if I wanted to take the text a little further. I bit my lip and continued typing.

Prez:
Thanks. How was your day?

My heart paused when I tapped the send button. I stared at his name, still kind of in shock that he was now permanent in my phone. And in my life?

I received a return text almost immediately and my heart played a quick tempo of happiness.  

Jude:
Three new clients today. Loving Triple R. Met some great people.

Prez:
Congrats to you, too. Triple R is lucky to have you.

There was a long wait for another text. Maybe we’re done?

Jude:
Sorry for surprising you @ art class yesterday.

Prez:
No need to apologize. It was nice to see you.

I pressed send and then panicked.

I didn’t just say that!
“Nice to see you”?
He was naked! That sounds totally creepy!

Jude:
The whole me or just parts of me? ;-)

OMG! I think he’s flirting by text!

I sat up in bed and stared blindly at my phone. My brain was stuck trying to determine if he was, in fact, actually, positively, irrefutably flirting. I was sure several minutes went by, even if the lapse felt like seconds.

The phone buzzed in my hand and I flinched like it was a striking snake.

Jude:
Presley, I am sorry. I may have offended you. If I did, I didn’t mean to. Hope to see you in the AM. Good night.

Contemplating my next move from every direction, I closed my eyes and tried to absorb the emotions coursing through me, something I rarely did because the sensations were often overwhelming. Jude was a nice guy, and I wanted to like him, but I didn’t want to get hurt either. I’d been here before. Putting myself out there and being rejected had eaten away the ability to see when someone was actually interested.

I typed slowly.

Prez:
No offense. Liked bumping into you as much as seeing all of you.

After a deep breath, I closed my eyes and hit send. In less than a minute, there was a return text. I opened the message and then opened my eyes.

Jude:
My family says I never have my eyes open to watch where I’m going, both in my personal life and when it comes to turning the right direction. Trying to change both. However, when it comes to you, Presley, I have my eyes wide open and I like what I see, too. Good night.

Holy shit!

Prez:
Good night, Jude.

I slept peacefully.

Chapter Six

I was curious how things would be between Presley and me. Last night’s light text-flirting, where I thought she admitted she liked my junk, and when our bodies touched at the art place was … interesting, and I was interested in learning more about her. There was something strong about Presley Bradenhurst and something equally as vulnerable about her. She was a puzzle of sorts.
I love puzzles.

Sitting at the desk filing paperwork, I sat up straight when Presley came rolling in. In flat shoes, her head fit right under my chin, as I’d found out on Wednesday night. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, like a black whip down her back, swishing side to side when she walked.

I left my long hair down this morning to dry. I was thinking about it the other night. Why so long? Mainly because I got lazy in college and let it grow, then girls started telling me the Jarod Leto-style looked good. So I left it that way. I’d thought about cutting it off—it could be hot during the summer and a bitch to take care of some days—but I didn’t.

Just admit it. You’re too fucking lazy to change it.

              “Hi, Jude,” Presley greeted me as she walked by to the stretching area.

I walked toward her, admiring the view.

You need to remain professional.

“Good morning, Presley. How are you today?”

“I’m good, a little tired. Stayed up too late reading and chatting by text with someone.” She smirked and plopped onto the blue mat to grab her ankle for a calf and thigh stretch.

“That’s too bad. I have new isometrics and a routine change-up planned for today. Do I need to bring the intensity down a notch?”

“Nope. Bring it on.” She glanced up through her lashes and added, “Plus, someone promised to make me sweat.”

Damn, she’s being kind of playful today.

“I’ll do my best.”

She stood and completed a ten-second stretch of her graceful neck. “I’m ready for this day to get started so tonight can get here.”

“Big plans?”

Please don’t say you have a date.

She stretched her arms. “Girls’ night out.”

I started stretching, too. Not sure why. I’d already stretched. But it seemed weird to just stand and watch her.

“What about you, Jude?”

I really didn’t want to tell her about the Emerson thing. “I have a second job bartending. I work tonight and tomorrow night.”

Presley’s face contorted. “Is there another new trainer working here?”

“Not that I know of. Why? Am I not doing a good job and you’re ready to move on already?”

Stretching out her back, Presley twisted at the waist. “No!” She cringed at how loud she had said the word, and lowered her voice. “No reason. Anyway, you mean you work a third job? I’m assuming you get paid for…”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“modeling.”

Couldn’t help but smile. “It’s actually a favor to my brother’s—” I tried to come up with what Yori was to him. She might not be a girlfriend, but she was definitely more than a friend. “—my brother’s tenant’s sister.”

That was jacked up!

“Your instructor, Simi,” I added quickly.

Presley beamed. “I love Simi. She’s so talented.”

I nodded. I’d only seen a couple pieces of her art, and I wasn’t an art aficionado by any means, but they looked good to me. Presley’s sketch was awesome.

Wonder if she decided on a copy?

“Okay, all stretched?”

Presley leaned over to grab her water bottle and the view was … oh, thank God I used her mental image in the shower this morning.

“Ready.” She smiled.

I started Presley on weight machines to warm up, then moved to isometric muscle training with a special emphasis on developing a slightly different body form, filling in muscle. We moved to a medicine ball and ended with cardio. Soaked in sweat was a good look for her. The heat of her body intensified the scents and the salt-heightened, deep floral aroma caused my mouth to water and my heart to pound.

Presley started on the treadmill. I stood off to the side by the machine’s controls and adjusted the speed. She moved at less of a clip than on Monday, but it was more than a jog in my trainer’s book. Ten minutes into the jog-run, she broke the silence.

“How long have you lived in Omaha … Jude?” She panted a little and shortened her stride.

“About a month and a half. I moved from Des Moines and live with my younger brother.”

“What’s … his name?”

“Zane. Why?”

“Well … with an awesome name like Jude … I figured his had to be something cool, too. Wasn’t … wrong.”

I smiled at her reasoning. “So, you have other plans for the weekend?”

“Probably … recovery … from girls’ night out.”

Her breathing was starting to get a little choppy and her face paled slightly. I backed her speed down and substituted a small incline.

She continued, “Maybe a bike ride. Supposed to be nice this … weekend. And then cats … and dogs, like every … Sunday.” The last sentence was on a quick exhale and she didn’t seem to be improving.

“Sounds like a good weekend. Do you ever work on the weekends?”

Her amazing chest was at eye-level, and I became engrossed in watching the rise and fall of her perfect globes.

Mesmerizing.

“Only … once … a … mon...”

Her one-word-at-a-time response and inability to finish the last word returned my attention. The tempo had compromised her breathing and her lips tinged with blue.

“Shit! Presley!” I slammed my hand on the stop button and caught her as the machine halted and her knees buckled. Cradling her in my arms, I carried her to a padded bench to lay her down, then knelt beside her head. Her eyes remained closed as her breathing wheezed in and whistled out. I checked her heart rate. Her carotid artery pulsed like a rock anthem beneath my fingers.

“Presley? Hey. Come back to me,” I whispered close to her ear and cupped the top of her head. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm as if it were tied to hers.

A shallow rasp of air exhaled from her mouth. “I’m still here, Jude.”

I skimmed her forehead with my thumb, gently. “God, you scared me. Are you okay?”

“My head is spinning, but I’m okay.” Her body flushed bright red from oxygen reentering her bloodstream. “I didn’t faint, just lost my wind.” She gulped in a breath. “Can you get my water bottle, please?”

Her breathing settled slowly, and she fought to regain her composure. I bent over her and cupped her jaw. My thumb skimmed over her fleshy, supple, baby-pink lips, and her eyes flashed opened. I held her gaze. “I’m not leaving you.”

I stood while keeping an eye on Presley. “Emerson. Emerson!”

Emerson ambled at a turtle’s pace over to the bench. “I’ve seen her do this before, Jude. It’s nothing new. She’ll be fine.”

“Please get Miss Bradenhurst a bottle of water from the staff lounge.”

“Get it yourself, Saylor.” She flipped her hair before turning her back.

“Emerson, get the bottle of water.” I gritted through my teeth. “Now!”

Emerson turned back around and her jaw tightened. “Fine!” She threw a final remark over her shoulder, “Miss Overdramatic needs to find some endurance.”

Presley squirmed with discomfort, then shook her head, her eyes clamped shut.

I squatted back down to be eye-to-eye. “Don’t give what Emerson says a second thought, she’s nothing.”

A line formed between Presley’s eyes. “Right … nothing. That’s why you’re—”

“Incoming!” Emerson yelled from about fifteen feet away, throwing me a cold water bottle.

I caught the airborne plastic rocket and turned to help Presley sit up. “Here. How do you feel now?”

“I feel like an idiot.” Presley took a long drink. “This happened with Mitch, too. I can’t go faster than a ten-minute mile. Never have been able to.” She dropped her head. “Sorry.”

I sat next to her and rested my hand at the small of her back. “You’re not an idiot, and don’t be sorry. I was too interested in our conversation. I like talking to you and I let my attention … well, I just should’ve been paying more attention.”

Presley’s head came back up, and I smiled lightly. She smiled back and our eyes connected. Even with her pupils still dilated from the distress of almost fainting, it was easy to see there was attraction and desire running like wild horses through those green beauties.

The moment seemed almost more important than anything I’d said before, to anyone. “Presley, I’d like to take you on a—”

“What the hell happened here?” Blake’s harsh voice bit through the air.

Presley’s eyes widened as she stared up at him.

Rising to my feet, I faced Blake. “I pushed her a little too hard. Guess I wanted to make a good impression, and I overdid it. Sorry, Presley, and sorry, Blake.”

Blake stalked past me to Presley. “Why don’t you come to my office and rest for a while? I don’t think you should drive. I’ll take you to work and have Jamal drive your car there later. Okay?”

“Blake, I’m fine.” Presley began to stand from the bench but her legs crumbled. She clutched my arm for support.

“Nope, not fine.” Blake pointed a finger at me. “Jude, get her to my office now.”

I scooped Presley up and started walking. She laid her head against my shoulder, her nose nuzzled into the side of my neck. Anyone looking from the outside wouldn’t have noticed the move, but I felt it. My head spun with the thought that this woman had almost been hurt by my distraction. My heart swelled knowing she wanted this as badly as I did. And my gut churned wondering if I’d screwed up my chance with her and at Triple R.

But this is real.

There was something here, and whatever it was, I wasn’t the only one who felt it.