Vali visibly relaxes and then he freaking smiles.
Why did he have to smile?
“Good,” he says with a nod. “I hope you’ll come back and give the class a shot.”
Searching again for the handle, I grab on to it and twist. My fight-or-flight mechanism is working and I feel the need to flee the scene—a virgin trying to escape a Viking. That sounds like a historical romance book I’d find in the local library, The Virgin and the Viking. I’d totally read that. Hell, maybe one of these days, I can write it instead but only if I can make it out of this building without causing more of a scene than I already have.
“I was planning on it, yes,” I reply, trying to sound calm but feeling anything but. “And, um, thank you for checking on me, Vali. That was very, uh, nice of you.”
For the love, Maggie, walk out the door!
Vali’s eyebrows meet in the middle in a confused expression and that’s when I realize my mistake. I just said his name, the name he doesn’t know I know because this is the first time we’ve ever interacted.
Not knowing how to make this situation any better, I force my body to move and practically hurl itself out the door. I don’t say goodbye and I certainly don’t look back; I just haul ass to my car. Once inside, I lean my forehead on the steering wheel and close my eyes.
I wish I could say I’m surprised by the turn of events, but that was pretty standard Maggie O’Neal material. My eyes begin to well up with tears, but when my mouth opens and I prepare myself for a good cry, laughter comes out instead. Deep belly laughs fill my car as I replay the entire scene between me and Vali. Of course, I feel ridiculous, but it could’ve been so much worse.
At least I have a whole week to recover before I have to face him and the studio again. I will, I promise myself. My readers demand it and so do I.
The entire drive home, I wear a smile so wide it makes my cheeks hurt, all thanks to Vali Erickson.
Chapter 5
Vali
“Hey, man,” Cage says, walking by me at the desk and tossing an empty coffee cup at my head.
“Jackass,” I mutter.
He just laughs and keeps walking. “What’s got you all serious and quiet?” he calls back over his shoulder. “You’ve been sitting there staring out the window daydreaming for the past hour.”
“No, I haven’t,” I argue, standing from the seat as if to prove my point. But he’s right, I have. Shit, I may have been sitting here longer than an hour. Ever since I came back from my morning run and caught a glimpse of the woman from last week leaving the bakery, I’ve been thinking about her. I can’t help it.
It was bitter cold this morning, but the second I saw her, I was anything but cold.
She knew my name, which I admit is kind of bothering me, but I figure she probably overheard someone in the gym talking to me. But that doesn’t add up because when I first walked downstairs to help Tempest with the last half of her class, she wasn’t there, and then she just appeared, like a siren emerging from the sea.
“You’re fucking doing it again,” Cage grumbles, passing by me and throwing a punch, which I dodge, thank God.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
At this, Cage pauses, going serious. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
“I know,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “But there’s nothing to talk about. I’m good.”
And really, that’s not a lie. There isn’t anything talking can fix and nothing I care to discuss. What’s done is done and I’m trying to move the fuck on, end of story.
“You’re a shit liar, you know that?”
Flipping him off, I turn to the desk and gather my laptop and notebook and head upstairs.
I need to shower, rub one out, and make myself a smoothie.
While I was occupying the front desk yesterday, I might’ve snooped in the sign-up sheets. I found one from a few days ago—the same day she walked into the studio—Margaret O’Neal.
It’s kind of an old name for a younger woman, but somehow it just fits her.
Classic.
Unassuming.
Beautiful.
And I can’t get her out of my head. I’m blaming it on being in this small town with little to no distractions. That’s gotta be it. Also, the fact that no one has ever caught my attention like that. From the second she looked up at me, I felt this weird pull.
I can’t even put a name on it—attraction, chemistry, voodoo. Who the fuck knows? All I know is that even though I haven’t seen her in person since last Friday, she’s all I can think about.
Casually, I mentioned her to Frankie and Tempest last night, bringing her up in conversation to ask if she’d been back since she bolted from the studio like her dress was on fire. Tempest said her parents own a feed store. Like, food for animals and shit, which is odd and doesn’t really fit the mental image I have of her.
But I’m definitely curious to know more.
Maybe I should buy a goat or some other small farm animal so I have an excuse to check out O’Neal Feed and Fodder. Yeah, I’ve done my research.
Did I just think about buying a goat to get a girl?
Yeah, okay. That’s where I draw the line. This town is obviously getting to me. Maybe it’s time to tuck tail and run back to Dallas before I’m trading in my slacks for overalls. I came here to clear my head and get some space, and I’ve managed to do that, but there’ve been other side effects of living in this small town.
For fuck’s sake, I used to run on a fancy indoor track and stop by Starbucks for an Americano on my way to the gym. And after work, I’d hit up high-end bars in downtown Dallas for craft cocktails and tapas. Now, I’m pounding the backroads of Green Valley, Tennessee, getting my coffee fix at Donner Bakery, and tipping up beers at Genie’s on the weekends.
And I like it.
What’s happened to Vali Erickson and who is this imposter enjoying the fresh mountain air and thinking about buying a fucking goat?
Maybe Cage is right? Maybe I need to talk to someone.
The thought of dredging up all the bullshit that transpired before I left Dallas always leaves me feeling angry and physically ill, so I’ve buried it pretty deep, hoping it just shrivels up and dies.
But I’m not stupid and I know ignoring things doesn’t make them go away. In fact, most of the time, it only makes them worse.
The next morning, I’m up even earlier than usual. Slipping on my warmest hoodie and extra thick socks, I make my way downstairs and out the front door, being quiet as a mouse. Not that there’s anyone who I can really wake up. Since Gunnar moved in with Frankie and Cage and Tempest’s apartment is on the other side of the studio, it’s just me over here, but it’s early and I feel the need to creep.
Instead of stretching and heading out for my run, I walk the short distance over to Donner Bakery. There’s only a faint light filtering through the front window, but I know Tempest is back there, baking away, so I walk to the alley and knock on the side door.
“Who is it?” she asks through the door.
“Vali,” I call back, glad she’s smart enough to not open the door for just anyone, even though everyone seems to know each other in this small town.