“I’m a dude, so even though he’s wearin’ shades, I can tell you, as a dude, you in those shorts, his eyes are aimed at your legs.”
At his words, I wondered if legs could blush. If they could, mine would have done just that, even though it was just coming on June and they were already tan since I was on a bike so much.
“I also know this seein’ as he’s lookin’ down… at your legs,” Bodhi finished.
Okay, definitely, legs could blush. I knew this when I felt the heat hit them.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked, taking Bodhi off the subject of Raiden and my legs. Moving to my basket, I was wishing for the first time I didn’t have a daisy basket that any six year old girl would be in throes of ecstasy over, but, suddenly I was realizing, any twenty-nine year old woman should think twice about.
“Was fifteen, seein’ as they’re custom-made by Heatherita, but since you gave me a hug, and I give discounts for hugs, we’ll call it square at ten,” Bodhi answered.
I grabbed my wallet. A long, Coach slimline pocket wallet that was made of a silvery champagne leather that I had to have the minute I saw it, but right then I worried was glitzy and ostentatious. I pulled out a ten and a five and extended the bills to Bodhi.
“Girl, I said ten,” he told me, but I shook my head and my hand.
“Take it,” I urged.
He had a bike shop to keep open, a pot habit, expensive hobbies and a questionable work ethic.
He needed the five bucks.
His shades held mine, then he took the money because he knew better than me that he needed it.
“You rock,” he said quietly.
“So do these.” I ran my finger through the streamers, something else I now had second thoughts about. Then I thought… forget it. I liked them. So Raiden saw me on a cutesie, girlie bike wearing a cutesie, girlie outfit that matched it.
I had my cop glasses.
I had a groovy friend who made me laugh and taught me to snowboard.
And I probably wouldn’t see Raiden for another five months.
So what did I care?
I mounted the bike, wishing I was pedaling home instead of pedaling further into town to run some errands for Grams. Raiden was parked, and thus obviously in town for a reason, and that reason might mean I’d run into him again. I turned around to face town.
“We goin’ out on the trails this weekend?” Bodhi asked, and I threw him a bright smile over my shoulder.
“Absolutely,” I answered.
He grinned back.
I dipped my chin to look at my feet and again tucked my hair behind my ear as I pushed up the kickstand and put feet to the pedals. I also looked out the corner of my eye Raiden’s way.
Just to check.
I felt heat hit every inch of my body making it tingle when I saw that now he was leaning back against his Jeep, arms crossed on his massive chest, shades, it appeared, still on me.
He had a sexy smile playing about his mouth and he looked settled in, like he was enjoying a show.
What on earth?
Okay. Whatever. It wasn’t every day a guy saw a twenty-something woman on a six year old’s dream bike wearing an outfit that matched her bike. So he had a show.
Again, whatever.
This was what I thought.
What I felt was idiotic.
I had to let it go, but more, I had to get out of there, so I took off, shouting to Bodhi, “Later!”
“Later, girl!” Bodhi shouted back.
I pedaled away and felt funny, hot and strange while picking up Grams’s meds from the pharmacy and grabbing cat food for Grams’s cat, Spot, at the pet store.
These feelings only died down when I was paying for Spot’s food.
The meds were important, of course. But although Spot couldn’t see the cupboard where Grams kept the tins of his food, he could sense when they were getting low and he got antsy.
Grams and I had learned the hard way that when Spot got antsy, something needed to be done about it.
I could have picked up the meds the next day when I usually did Grams’s big shop for the week. But since Spot only accepted two different flavors of a special brand of cat food that had to be bought at the pet store and Grams was running low, I’d pedaled into town, and unintentionally made a fool of myself the first time Raiden Miller’s attention turned to me.
I loved that cat, no matter how ornery.
But at that moment I cursed him to perdition.
I’d bought the food and was heading out of the store when Krista, the owner of the store, called after me. “Is it still cool if I go over to Miss Mildred’s on Saturday to learn how to make her biscuits?”
Grams was known for her cooking. She was from Louisiana. Full-on Cajun, full-on Southern, and she’d brought to Colorado all the knowledge she’d learned from home.
She was also generous with it.
I kept heading toward the door as I looked over my shoulder at Krista, smiled and called, “Absolutely!”
Her head jerked, her eyes went up and she cried, “Hanna!” two seconds before I hit wall.
This shocked me since I’d been in that pet store more than once in my life, a lot more, and I knew where the walls were, even if I wasn’t looking right at them.