Hard Wood Page 2

  As I turn onto the block with my building, he’s not the only one purring.

  Because right there in front of the lobby, wearing reflective sunglasses and jeans that hug her curves deliciously, is a certain woman I’m very happy to see.

  Mia Summers. Tiny but mighty. A powerful sprite with wavy hair, hazel eyes, a soft heart, and a quick wit I just dig.

  I met her several months ago when she was visiting her brother, Max, and it’s safe to say she’s claimed center stage in my mind ever since.

  When I see Mia, when I talk to Mia, when I spend time with Mia, it confirms my belief that some things are simple.

  Like whether a cat drags his whole body on the floor or he gamely trots alongside you.

  It’s a yes or no.

  A black or white.

  You’re either attracted to your good friend’s sister or you’re not.

  For the record, the answer is I am, so fucking much.

  2

  I haven’t seen Mia in almost a month, since the last time she was in town staying with Max. I didn’t realize she’d be back a full week before her other brother Chase’s wedding, and am I ever glad to see her again.

  She makes all parts of me quite happy indeed.

  By happy, I mean hard as a rock.

  Okay, fine. It’s not like I’m operating at full power this second. I’m thirty-three, not fifteen. I have plenty of self-control in the “when and where to pitch a tent” arena. All I’m saying is this woman gets me going, and I feel that zip down my body when I see her.

  She’s on the phone, her eyebrows pinched, her expression harried. She drags her hand through her caramel-blond hair. As I walk closer, I hear her say, “I understand. Yes, I understand. Things happen.”

  And that’s the sound of someone being disappointed.

  Which is a terrible thing for this sexy-as-a-fiery-sunset woman to experience.

  When she stops and ends her call, she spots me. She tilts her head, her eyes piercing, her brow furrowed, and her dimples killing me with cuteness. Her eyes roam from me to Zeus, and then she points at my boy. “I don’t know if anyone has told you this . . .”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Tell me. What could it possibly be?”

  Her eyes drift to the ground then back up. In a deadpan tone, she says, “But your shoelaces don’t match.”

  I glance down at the red lace in my right hiking boot and the orange one in the left. “True that. The other red one got tangled on a tree trunk on the Hudson River Trail, and I had to sacrifice it to the shoelace gods.”

  “I’m sure they were delighted to receive such a fine offering,” Mia says, and I love that even though I haven’t seen her in a while, she rolls right into an easy conversation. No need for greetings, embraces, or how the hell are yous. Not that I’d object to her wrapping her arms around me and giving me a friendly hug. Or a long, lingering hug for that matter.

  She’s looking at me expectantly, and I snap back to our playful footwear banter. “They were indeed grateful that the shoelace came home to rest.”

  “Also,” she says, stepping closer. “Did you know there’s a cat in your hat? Well, on your back, actually.”

  “There is?” I crane my neck to peer over my shoulder. “You’re right. How did he get there?”

  She parks her hands on her hips. “You’re in big trouble.”

  “I’ve been bad, have I?”

  She pushes my shoulder then wags her finger at me. “How did you keep this from me?”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “The fact that there’s an awesome new Italian place down the street? It opened last month, and I planned to tell you.”

  She huffs, rolling her eyes. “I’ve known you for months and you didn’t tell me you had a cat. Friends don’t hide pets from friends.”

  She’s not in town that often. She hasn’t ever been to my apartment. And I don’t take Zeus upstairs to Max’s. But I’m not going to state the obvious. I’m going to have a little fun with her. Flirt with her. Because . . . that’s what we do.

  “There’s a reason for that.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she taps her toe, waiting. I drag a hand through my hair. Evie says my light brown hair is floppy, and she tells me this is a good thing. The ladies love floppy hair, she says. She’s been right so far. My hair’s been a big hit with the ladies, and other parts have, too.

  “It’s a good reason,” I add.

  “I’m waiting, Patrick. This really isn’t the type of intel you should hold back.”

  I heave a sigh as if I’m going to make a huge admission, then I park a hand on her shoulder. Because, well, I’m a sneaky bastard and I’ll look for any opening to touch her. “Look, I’m going to be blunt. If I told you I had a hiking cat who rides shotgun in a backpack and can purr like he’s a jazz superstar, you’d have had no choice but to fall in love with me.” I flash her a grin.

  When Mia laughs, she tips her head back and her wavy hair flutters in the breeze. She has a simple beauty about her. She’s fresh-faced, and her hair isn’t overly styled—it looks tousled and towel-dried, and I can’t deny how much that wash-and-wear, low-maintenance vibe turns me on. Plus, she has the most fantastic dimples, which make her look innocent even though I suspect she has a wickedly naughty side. And then there are those eyes—hazel, with flecks of green. Sometimes they read as a soft, warm brown, sometimes like a green sea under the sun.

  Don’t even get me started on her body—toned and athletic, exactly what I like. But it’s her dry sense of humor that nails me every time.

  “How do you know I wouldn’t have fallen in love with the cat instead?” She reaches up, standing on tiptoe since I’m nearly a foot taller than she is, and runs her hand down Zeus’s head. Lady-killer that he is, Zeus lifts his chin and purrs suggestively as Mia scratches him.

  And now we’re at steel level.

  Because with her this close, I can’t help but enjoy the eyeful of soft, sweet curves at the line of her tank top. God, I love summer and the clothes women wear when the days turn warmer.

  “Nah, we’re a package deal,” I say. “And look, don’t be ashamed. You can just admit you’re crazy for me now.”

  Mia steps back, rolls her eyes, and pushes her pink messenger bag higher on her shoulder.

  I gesture to the lobby so we can head inside. Her beauty products company is based in San Francisco, but she’s been spending more and more time in New York. When she’s in town, she usually crashes at Max’s apartment, five floors up from mine. I first met Max when I moved into this building a year and a half ago, and we became fast friends. But I didn’t meet Mia until she started travelling to New York regularly for business several months ago.

  She holds up her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. He’s pretty much sealed the deal for me.” Her eyelids flutter, and she places her hand on her heart, making a loud thumping sound. “I’m over the moon.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I didn’t just whip out my cat and show him to you the first night we met. Or the second. Zeus is a complete and absolute chick-magnet, and since I respect you, I couldn’t willy-nilly throw down this kind of secret weapon and leave you no choice.”

  “Zeus is kind of a big, bold name. Is that overcompensation for something?” Her eyes drift down. Thank fuck I’m not sporting wood anymore.

  I scoff. “Overcompensation for his sheer and utter awesomeness.”

  “And what makes him so awesome? Besides the fact that he rides sidecar with you, it seems.”

  We reach the elevator banks, and I stab the up button. “You can play it cool, but I’m sure you’ve heard of Zeus The Hiking Tomcat. He has more than a million followers on Instagram.”

  She blinks, and the sarcasm games cease. “Seriously?”

  As we wait, I snag my phone and open The Hiking Tomcat’s feed, showing her some recent pictures: a shot of the furry fellow wandering along a curved mountain trail, a picture of him chilling in the stern of a canoe as I paddle across a lake, an image of him scurrying on a felled t
ree trunk over a mountain stream.

  Then, my favorite—Zeus in the meadow, his eyes closed, his face raised to the sun, enjoying some rays at the top of a four-mile hike up a mountain when there was nothing but blue skies forever.

  “Wow. I can’t believe he actually hikes,” she says.

  “I can take you along, if you want to see the proof with your own eyes.”

  She laughs and shakes her head, patting her bag. “I just arrived last night. I have meetings all afternoon, terms with suppliers to review, and marketing campaigns to peruse. Plus, dinner tomorrow night with Josie and Chase, and Max and Henley. I have way too much work to take a break for a hike.”

  The elevator arrives. We step inside and the doors whoosh shut.

  “That’s insane. There’s always time for a hike.”

  She sighs heavily, so hard it’s like air leaks out of her. “I feel like I don’t even have time to breathe, let alone go to the gym, let alone go on a trip. The last time I was in town, I barely made it to the Friday afternoon laser tag game with my friend Dylan. And I just found out one of our biggest suppliers has pulled out of a deal for this new face wash we’ve been working on,” she says, meeting my gaze. “And I need to figure out a replacement.”

  Mia started her own company a few years ago, making organic and cruelty-free beauty products and makeup. It’s a true passion of hers, and she works doggedly at building up Pure Beauty. But even when you love what you do, it can exact a toll. I see a flash of weariness in her eyes, tiredness, and I sense how much this woman needs a break.

  “That’s what I was doing before I saw you. Talking to the supplier,” she explains.

  Ah, so I was right. Disappointed. “Sorry, Mia. That sucks.”

  “I know. I’m trying so hard, and I just feel like I’m being pulled in all these directions.”

  “Maybe you do need to get away.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You’ll think better after a few hours unplugged. Be in a better mood for the wedding next week.” Look, I’m not simply trying to snag some extra time with the woman. I can tell from the tightness in her shoulders, the heaviness of her sigh, and, oh yeah, her motherfucking words that Mia needs a break, even a short one.

  “Is that so?”

  “Mia, you need to recharge. Look, I’m sure you can fill all twenty-five hours in your day with work, but people need to step back from the screens, too.”

  “Except there are only twenty-four hours in a day, right?”

  The elevator slows at my floor. When the door opens, I stand in it to keep talking to her. “Not for people like you, who have somehow annexed an extra hour to squeeze in even more productivity. So take a break for a couple of hours and let yourself unwind. Your mind will be fresher.”

  She nibbles on the corner of her lips. “You’re trying to get me to play hooky.”

  “Tomorrow is Saturday. If not working all day long on a Saturday counts as playing hooky, we have some serious issues.”

  “What are you suggesting we do?”

  “I’m saying we find some sunshine and snacks, and unplug till you clear your head and let go of this stress.”

  The gold flecks in her eyes twinkle, making them look green. “I do like snacks.”

  “Marcona almonds,” I say in a low, dirty whisper.

  She hums.

  “Green olives.” My voice turns huskier.

  She fans herself.

  “Sunflower seeds.”

  She lets out a gasp, and yeah, sunflower seed erotica is way better than s’mores smut. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

  “I swear. All those can be yours.”

  “But I have to review these marketing campaigns . . .”

  The elevator rumbles, itching to travel to the next floor. I make my last pitch. “I wonder if there are any tall, handsome, blue-eyed, brilliant fellow business owners who’d look at them with you, say, over lunch today, so that tomorrow you could take a day off to relax.”

  I see her switch from maybe to yes. I suspect it was the word lunch.

  She bounces on her toes. “Can we order Italian from that new place down the street?”

  And lunch is now my wingman.

  “Deal,” I say, and she follows me off the elevator and into my spacious apartment. I set down my pack, letting Zeus go free. He hops out, and once his white paws hit the floor, he promptly proceeds to bestow all the affection in the world on Mia’s leg.

  We spend the next two hours eating pasta primavera, reviewing her marketing campaigns, and debating favorite foods to bring along on a four-hour hike.

  We settle on the aforementioned olives and almonds, and then she places an order of surprise me since I love surprises.

  When she leaves, I batten down the hatches and take care of my own business, coordinating with my new West Coast manager who oversees our Northern California trips, as well as my associates out here who handle day-to-day work on the hiking, rafting, camping, and corporate retreats we manage on this coast. In the afternoon, my HR manager calls, and we spend an hour reviewing the updated employee handbook line by line. I had some trouble earlier this year with a guide who slept with a married client on a three-day hiking trip in Vermont. The whole situation turned into a mess—the guide slapped some angry posts on Facebook about being fired, and the client’s husband called and threatened us. Tempers flared red-hot and dangerous, even though nothing came of it at the end of the day. But we tightened our guidelines for employees, since that’s all we can control anyway.

  The next morning I’m up bright and early for a five-mile run, and when I return, I slide the red harness onto Zeus. I snap a shot of him sitting next to a daypack and some food for the hike, then post it to his feed.

  Ready for today’s adventure!

  I shake my head because I can’t believe this is who I’ve become. A guy who posts cell phone pics of his cat.

  But, then again, how could I turn him down when Evie brought him to me, his green eyes batting up at me like Puss in Boots? My sister is a matchmaker, and one of her clients is a fireman. He rescued Zeus from a warehouse fire in Queens. The little fellow had no home, so Evie insisted he be mine, since she’s mildly allergic.

  Ergo, I have a cat.

  A few minutes later, I take the elevator to Max’s floor and knock on his door.

  He answers and bestows the biggest scowl on earth on me. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you were taking my sister out for the day?”

  I roll my eyes at Max’s effort to play the role of scary big brother. Even though we’ve known each other for less than two years, he’s become my closest friend in New York, in part because he’s blunt, loyal, dependable, and has a kickass pool table. His opinion always matters to me.

  “I figured showing up at your door would tip you off.”

  But he doesn’t ease up. Instead, he snarls.

  That only makes me laugh. “Dude, the whole routine is a little ridiculous.”

  “I saw the way you looked at her at Henley’s dinner party a few weeks ago.”

  Max and his girlfriend, Henley, built a car together for a network TV show that just finished a successful first season, and they celebrated with a party at their place. Not gonna lie—I spent a little extra time with Mia at the party, but I hadn’t seen her in a while, and the two of us always seem to gravitate toward each other when she’s in town. We’ve been like that from the night we met—we click.

  And that’s a big reason why it sucks that she lives three thousand miles away.

  But since Max started it, I can’t resist giving him a hard time. “And at this party, how exactly did I look at her? Like I wanted to help serve the salad she made? That kind of look?” I adopt a low and dirty voice just to emphasize the ridiculousness of his point. “Hey there, sweet cheeks. Let me help you with the tongs.”

  “Don’t ever let me hear you say the words ‘sweet cheeks’ again.”

  “Same goes for you.”

  He cracks a smile, laughs loudly,
and smacks me on the back. “Just yanking your chain. I know you’d never do anything behind my back.”

  Well, that’s not entirely true. I did some seriously dirty things to her in my imagination this morning.

  “Right?” he asks, pressing.

  I raise my hand, as if I’m taking an oath. “Nothing behind your back, I promise. Besides, when I convince your sister to marry me, I’ll be upfront about it. Man to man.” I smack his chest.

  He blinks. Rubs his ear. “You’re messing with me.”

  I smirk, my lips twitching in an evil grin. “Absolutely,” I say, since there’s nothing to tell. I meant what I said—I would be upfront about it. I would tell him. But there’s nothing to tell, because she lives so far away. All I can do is grab the few seconds and minutes of time with her that I can. Maybe if I spend enough hours with Mia, the feeling will burn off and fade away. “Besides,” I add, “I’m just taking her to explore Mother Nature. I have the sense she needs it.”

  “Man, she does,” Max says, peering behind him. “She’s been stressed about the business, where it’s going, what to do next. Henley and I tried to convince her to get a massage, but then she mentioned she was spending the day with you. I was glad to hear it.”

  “Good. I guess that means you’ll let me borrow your Triumph to take her to the trailhead.”

  Max sets a hand on his stomach and laughs. “That’s a good one. As if I’d let anyone but my woman touch Blue Betty. You can take your Hyundai.”

  A few minutes later, Mia appears, twisting her damp hair into a bun on top of her head and flashing me a smile. “I’m ready. I have to be back by five thirty for a conference call with a potential supplier. She had some time today so we’re going to chat.”

  I roll my eyes and whisper to Max, “Someone needs to cancel that Saturday conference call.”

  Mia parks her hands on her hips. “I heard you. This apartment is big, but not that big.”

  “Don’t forget dinner tonight with your favorite brother,” Max says drily, tapping his chest.