Head Over Wheels (Steamy New Adult Romance) (6 page)

"Hospital rotation ... I'm in the children's wing this month." His stare cooled, shifting to the cloudless sky.

Ah, med school ...There was that distressing look again. Was he hardened by life or just overburdened by it?

"Tough, huh? Not much free time and all that ..." I was already gauging how many leftover hours ... and how much energy ... there'd be for me.

He blew out a sigh that sounded unanticipated, then drew a deep breath. "Yup. Occupies almost twenty-four-seven." His words were steady, matter of fact, as if industrious was his accepted way of life, and would never be debated.

Was he apologizing in advance? Crap. He must have sensed brewing tension, because he lightened the moment with a disarming grin. "Exams in a couple of months. Then I have some downtime until I start my residency."

"Where?"

"NYU Medical Center."

"Great." My upbeat voice annoyed me. I knew residency would be even more demanding than the eight years leading up to it.
How exhausting it must be for him.

I watched him from the corner of my eye, then turned my head for a better view, admiring the way the sun sharpened his features, streaked his hair, crystallized his eyes which were already translucent ... addictive. Was it admiration I felt, or was I envious of his goal, his future, his perfect profile? Come on, Jewel. You've got great stuff going on in your life. Don't even think about letting insecurity creep in. Could his future possibly include me? If so ... would I fit in? Another vision of Blondie invaded my already overtaxed brain.
What am I getting myself into?

"Yep. End of May the skate's over and the real work begins. I'm looking forward to it though, and having almost the entire summer free ..."

Was he consoling me? I brightened.

"Summer. What's a more beautiful word ... and time of year ..." I let out a musical moan.

He looked at me. Really looked at me, and his expression softened so drastically, I felt as though he wanted me to share his inner thoughts. To listen. Understand. Confide in me? Was I getting to him?

"I spend a lot of time at the Hamptons." He began offering info. "Correction. I used to." The way he tilted his head, his ever-changing expressions, his fingers stroking the blades of grass cropping up between us, was driving me insane.

"Nice." My nose pointed skyward. I closed my eyes, giving my imagination free reign.

Okay ... A rich boy. Aren't they used to getting what they wanted and tiring easily? A fling for a fling ... I'll give him a run for his money.

"It's a great place to relax. Have fun. Whatever ..." His voice trailed off. Maybe he didn't want to appear a bragger ... or was he dropping hints? "My family has a summer home there." He struck a similar position, palms on the grass behind him, legs stretched out almost touching mine. Faces pointing upward, we looked like two sun worshipers enjoying the beautiful day.

"Oh, I know what it's like. I love the Hamptons." I spoke into the breeze that ruffled my hair which in turn tickled my nose. I brushed it away and turned on my side. Leaning on an elbow, I fully faced him.

Twisting his head in my direction, he appeared impressed by my reply. "Do you go there often?" I hoped his eagerness was overplayed, because I was stretching the truth quite thin.

"Doesn't everyone?" My eyes were wide, my voice innocent.

What I didn't mention was I'd visited the Hamptons for only two days to attend a Bar Mitzvah – and that had been over ten years ago. Hmm. The Hamptons ... every summer? Hence, Blondie. I should have known. Might as well dig deeper.

"Is your family here in New York?" I brushed a hand across the plush carpet of grass, now and then twisting blades between my fingertips, stealing as many inconspicuous glances at him as possible without drawing too much attention to the fact that I was becoming increasingly immersed in him.

"Yup. Westchester. Yours?" When he sat up, straight back, legs crisscross applesauce, he looked so cute and enthusiastic. Not at all like a snob. He had me so confused.

"Dutchess." While my voice chimed, I plucked furiously at stalks of clover.

"Poughkeepsie?" He reached into a pocket and tossed me a wrapped stick of gum.

"How'd you guess?" I sat up and faced him cross-legged, our knees almost touching. I peeled off the wrapper and after sliding the gum seductively across my lips, began to chomp.

"Everyone's from Poughkeepsie." He chuckled, then popped a piece of gum into his mouth, gazing back up at the sky as if it offered peace.

"Huh?"

"Just joking. I pass it on the way to Saratoga. Well, I used to." He seemed to be relying upon the sky for thought, and after another clean sweep of intense blue, started staring at me as though I were something in a store window he’d wanted since childhood, but for some reason, wouldn’t dare ask for.

"Raceway?" I became uncomfortable under his close scrutiny, wondering what he was seeking as he examined.

"How'd you guess?" His eyes calmed.

"Everyone goes to Saratoga Raceway." I knew I sounded like a smartass, but I had to maintain the upper hand.

He appeared immune to my arrogance and smiled. "Still in school?"

Ha. Another guy who couldn't guess my age.
Thank you, Grandma, for the burnished elastic skin and youthful features.

Now
I
blew out the breath. "Till the end of this semester. I'll have a degree in criminal justice. It took a little longer than expected ..." Why was I explaining?

"We'll have to celebrate together. Maybe the Hamptons." He sounded bold, and appeared taken aback by his own remark. His gaze shifted to Emma and Bill who sat shoulder to shoulder a few feet away.

I held back the urge to signal Em. Indigo was already talking future ... with me. My fingertips nonchalantly dipped beneath the neckband of my shirt to caress my crucifix.

"Huh?" I couldn't appear expectant ... easy, girl.

"Graduation." Once more, his fingers began an idle harvesting of grass. "Party on the beach. Keg of beer. Bonfire. The works."

"Oh yeah. Now you're talking my language." My heart lunged for my throat.

This guy came off as so cool, he could charm every layer of skin off a snake till he hit bone. But his eyes. Those crystal eyes were deceptive. They were anything but cool. They were deep, they were clear, then they were guarded, sweltering with secrets. What was his story? I just had to know.

"Stay right there ..." the tone of his voice startled me, and I almost freaked when he brought his face in for a kiss. Keeping my composure, I didn't purse or part my lips, but I did lift my head and close my eyes, waiting for his next move.

However, his thumb didn't tug down my bottom lip; his mouth didn't cover mine. Instead, his thumb and forefinger snatched a stray lash from my cheek. When my lids sprang open, he held it to my lips. "It was almost in your eye. Make a wish."

For more than one reason, I let out a puff of air.

"I hope it comes true," he said.

"Not as much as I do." My eyes glued to his, I grinned.

All too soon Emma and Bill were on their feet, indicating they were ready to get moving. I caught the quick squeeze of their fingers before they separated and approached.

"Guess break time's over." Indigo stood and brushed grass from his bottom. He surprised me by grasping both of my hands and pulling me to my feet, holding me for a long moment before releasing me.

His unexpected touch was debilitating. I mumbled something that sounded like, "Thanks."

He smiled, and then in a smooth, crisscross maneuver, brought his gray Henley up and over his head. His blue tee slid with it, but was snagged by the span of his shoulders, exposing a sleek physique. It appeared I'd been right: a delicious tan covered every inch of visible skin, even dipping into the waistband of his shorts. With a twist of his torso he shook free of both shirts, in the process showing off his ink. That's when my internal flutters began tripping over one another, working their way to my throat.

A few ribs below his own heart was a tattoo of a bright red bleeding heart. The tat was beautiful ... sad. Was he sad? Who was she? I wondered. The girl who'd been such an important part of his life that he'd tattooed her heart beneath his. Or was it
his
heart turned inside out? Was he still bleeding for her?

I strained to examine it further, but in a moment he pulled the blue tee on, cloaking the tattoo as he tugged the cotton down over his muscular chest. But I did notice a black Byzantine cross on his right arm before he shrugged everything back into place. The guy was delish. I wondered what else might be hidden under his clothes. He was the gift I was dying to unwrap.

He stared down at me, his eyes now heather, faceted by afternoon sunshine. Mine felt like saucers, unblinking. The silence wasn't uncomfortable ... It was as though neither of us knew what to say. Still, our eyes spoke. Mine roamed every inch of his face again and again, while his worked slowly ... only once. Could this be a beginning? Or were we two souls passing in flight?

After this ... how could we just say goodbye?

From a side glance I glimpsed Emma and Bill, in the process of strapping on helmets, the entire time talking. Emma wore a coy smile; she seemed to be doing her thing. I wondered if they were making headway. They looked adorable together. He towered over her slight, but curvy frame. He picked up her bike, steadying it as she slipped onto the seat. Their actions seemed to be our cue: make a move or leave.

I was captured by a flurry of wind that smelled so fresh it was intoxicating. "It's beautiful here. I'll have to use this trail again." I smiled up at Indigo, expectation clinging to my jaw line. "I think I'm going to be doing a lot more cycling."

"Maybe we'll run in to one another again. Bill and I ride most weekends, if time permits." His eyes were shaded, even in bright daylight, they shadowed.

"Mabes." My shrug was careless.

I had just been blown off. My heart sank. I turned to take a step, intending to finish this ride, then hit the first frozen yogurt stand to cross my path. But would extra fudge and whipped cream do the job?

Things moved in slow motion. Emma began flagging me, and the next thing I knew I felt Indigo's hand on my shoulder. I couldn't move. There I stood like a lamp post, until his fingers tightened and he eased me around to face him.

"Jewel ..." My name was an airy rush. "I doubt we'd be able to hang together out there," he motioned to the wheels spinning past us, "but Bill and I usually stop at Kelly's after riding." Those deeply faceted eyes were vibrant as they caressed my face, slowly, seductively.

Holy shit. He didn't have to speak, or move. Just standing before me – the look on his face, the purse of his lips still molded with my name  – was enough to push me over the edge.
Grandma, how much more can I take? Did Grandpa have this effect on you?
I so wished I could text her.

Indigo was incredibly handsome and totally irresistible ... and he was standing inches away, making my legs weaker than a cup of tea brewed with a used tea bag. Talk, Jewel. For shit sake, you've never been tongue-tied in your life. Answer!

"Race you back." I was breathless.

He grinned. "You're on."

I
t all happened so fast I didn't remember walking away, but I must have looked like a neon flash as I stuck my head into my helmet and lifted my bike.

"We're meeting up with them later." With a racing heart, I told Emma.

"I know." She smiled slyly.

I flipped Indigo a wave as he and Bill merged into the lane of other cyclists, then confronted Em. "You little bitch. What's going on?"

"I'm so psyched." Her cheeks looked like ripe apples.

"Yeah. I can see that. Spill it."

"It's a long story ... let's not waste time now. I'll tell you about it tonight."

"I already get it. He's someone out of your deep, dark past. I just need the why's and how's?"

Her eyes were shooting off crazy sparks. "I knew him ... we ... I ..."

"Oh, Em." Reaching out, I patted the side of her helmet. "It's squashed all over your face. Come on." I squeezed her arm, then threw a leg over the uncomfortable seat. "Let's not let them get too far ahead of us." My words held a double meaning.

We pedaled as hard as we could, but in that mob, there was no way of spotting even a glimpse of them, no less overtake them. Since we had to concentrate on the crowded trail we couldn't chit-chat, which I was dying to do. But we swapped an occasional glance, eyes rolling with anticipation, and a thumbs up now and then.

After a short time we followed the flow into the center of the actual event which took place on paths cordoned off with yellow sawhorses. We looped around a few miles, then headed back down the trail on which we'd arrived. On the lookout the entire time, all I saw was a sea of helmets. No Indigo. No Billy Arkana. And there was no sign of Pete. Of course, a Harley would never slip through the roadblocks ... duh.

But I did happen to notice a stable in the distance, far beyond the post and rail fences, where a dozen horses grazed in a meadow. In the heart of New York City, I felt like I was cycling through a magnificent countryside. I was loving every moment of it ... especially the fact that this ride could be the turning point of my life. My heart was light. I felt there was a purpose, after all.

By the time our wheels rounded the familiar streets of Manhattan, I was exhausted. A drooping flower, I needed refreshment.

"What do you think about quick showers?" I asked Em. I wanted to look ... and smell my best when I met up with Indigo, first impressions lasting and all. "Should we risk it?"

"Absolutely not. I don't want to miss them."

"Don't you think Billy Arkana," I couldn't resist teasing, "will wait for you?"

"I'm not taking any risk of losing him again."

"You're in love. I can't believe it. Just remember, I can't afford the rent on my own. Not yet, anyway."

"Oh, stop it." Her apple cheeks bulged.

Em and I locked our bikes into the rack a few doors down from Kelly's and quickly lost the helmets. We shook out our hair, dabbed our faces with tissues and, helmets cradled, sauntered into the café, cool as two ripe cucumbers ready for peeling.

Still fluffing my flattened locks, I elbowed her. "How do I look?"

"Sexy and overheated. How about me?"

"Hot and sweaty."

"Do I smell?" Em's face twisted with panic.

I sniff-tested the air around us, praying our deodorant had survived the day. "Hmm. Nothing out of the ordinary ... but why didn't I spray on some
Strawberries and Champagne
this morning?" After evaluating her distress, I reconsidered. "Nah. We're good."

I zeroed in on them first, sitting across from one another at a booth near a back window of the café. The Henley once more covered Indigo's pale blue T-shirt, and his hair was neatly combed.

Conscious of dreaded helmet-head, I swept a few loose strands back into my ponytail, but let the springy tendrils dangle in front of my ears, and didn't touch the baby soft wisps above each temple.

Indigo watched our approach attentively. As we neared, his shoulders lifted with an inhale and I could have sworn he blew out relief. His lips curled slightly, his eyes sending messages. My stomach tightened. By the time Em and I reached the table, both guys were standing like gentlemen, motioning for us to slide into the booth first.

"Hey." I tried to sound breezy.

"Hey." The tone of his voice was rich.

I followed the sweep of his arm and slid onto the padded bench. Indigo settled beside me and spoke to my profile. "So, does this mean you two are buying?" He took my helmet from my lap and reached over me, setting it on the window ledge next to his.

When his arm brushed my boobs, a chill shot down my spine. The side of his chest felt warm: firm but caressable. Was I really with him? The day had brought such surprises, I felt like I was dreaming. A fresh, nautical scent wafted into my nostrils, snapping me into reality.

I made a quarter turn in the direction of his voice. "Sure. A round of water for everyone."

Bill let out a laugh.

"She's not joking," Emma chuckled, looking snuggly beside Bill who stowed her helmet with his.

Indigo pressed his index fingers to his temples. "Don't tell me. You took the scenic route."

"What, did you two get here like five minutes ago? Because the gears on your bikes are still warm." Gears are still warm? I had no idea what I was talking about, but it sounded good.

Indigo laughed. “Oh, a gear-watcher. Thanks for the heads up. I’m really going to have to watch those gears from now on ... make sure they don’t overheat again. I don’t want to break down in the park, or in the middle of Madison Avenue.”

Bill and Emma started cracking up.

A heavyset guy who looked in his fifties approached, giving me a chance to cope with my embarrassment.

"Hey, Indigo." He paused beside us, big hands on hips, his gaze zigzagging the table.

"How are you doing, Mike?" Indigo put out a hand.

"Can't complain. How are the classes coming?"

"I'm doing rotations." Indigo's face lit with a grin.

"Geeze, time flies. Soon to be a licensed MD. Bet your folks are overjoyed. How are they?"

A brief disturbance dimmed Indigo's light. If something had troubled him, he recovered well. "They're great. Just got back from the British Virgin Islands."

"Must be nice." Mike grinned and shook his head. For a moment his eyes looked vacant. "Your dad had the right idea. Too bad I didn't take a similar path. Who are your friends?"

Indigo rested his hand on my shoulder, his touch lighter than in the park. "Jewel, this is Mike Kelly, the owner of this rockin' coffee house." His forearm tensed just long enough to make the introduction, then drifted back to the table top, aligning with his other. For a casual meeting, there was a lot of physical contact going on. Imagine a date? I wondered if he was feeling it too.

"Hello, Mike." I was formal but warm. "This is Emma."

"Nice to meet you ladies." Mike smiled. "I'll get a waiter over here." He swung his gaze back to Indigo. "Tell your folks I send my best, and next trip, I'd like an invite." He winked at me, then with a straight back, strode away.

“So he’s close with your family?” I asked.

Indigo’s stare followed Mike until he disappeared behind the counter, then he turned to me. “He and my dad spent eight years together in the Marines. They touch base now and then.”

“Do your parents ever come here?” I wanted to know if I should be looking over my shoulder.

The look on his face was strained. “My parents don’t go many places together.”

“I thought they just got back from the Virgin Islands?”

“It was a business trip. They don't do much for pleasure." A hint of a frown reshaped his beautiful lips.

A waiter appeared, took our order, then in hushed tones, we fell into private conversations.

"What do you do, Jewel?" Indigo asked. "Besides school."

I shifted, bringing the side of my leg onto the seat so I could face him. "I work at AMA."

He did a slight recoil and gaped. "You're in the medical profession?"

I instantly made the connection. Was he pulling a snobatude with me? "Hell no. I work security at Abigail Mitchell Apparel while I finish two classes at Jay. I hope to be part of NYPD soon." My words bounced through the narrow space between us.

His eyes widened further. "Awesome. Can you take care of a few hundred parking tickets?" he teased.

"And then some." His reaction granted me permission to act superior.

"So, how did you come to join the bike-a-thon?" He was so close, I held in my empty stomach breath as much as possible.

Then a horrible thought struck. Guys were hot when they perspired and exuded a pheromone or two. But girls, forget it. A post-sweaty female was like a decaying peach in a fruit bowl gathering gnats. To be avoided at all costs.
Deodorant, please keep me dry for more than twelve hours.

What was the cause again? I felt so stupid. But I did remember it was a campaign to raise funds for children.
"Umm. Well ... Em ..."

"I learned about it at work," Emma cut in, shooting me her usual,
you should pay more attention to me,
look.

My eyes thanked her for keeping one ear on my conversation, and for the save. Emma would make a great goalie.

"How do you like working for the State?" Bill and Indigo asked together, in tune as Em and I when we answered for each other.

Emma filled everyone in on her absolutely awesome job and how she was really into it, and her future aspirations to cure the troubled mind of the world in her private practice.

Bill told us he'd graduated pharmaceutical college a few years prior and worked for one of the leading drug companies. He fit the part. I visualized him dressed in a suit, pushing drugs. I almost giggled at the thought.

"What about you?" I asked Indigo, who didn't seem as carefree as he had earlier. "Are you specializing?"

"I am. In pediatric medicine ... possibly research."

"Wow. No wonder your parents are thrilled," I tried not to gush. "That's some accomplishment."

"Yeah, I guess. But it was a given. My dad's a surgeon. I have two uncles who are physicians." His face filled with conviction. "I grew up knowing I'd be a doctor."

I thought of my family with their backbreaking jobs, baking and tending the store all by themselves. Still, my dad made a good living and I had no reason to be envious of the other side. I came from a close, loving background.

But here, I seemed to be odd man out. I tugged up a scowl. The three sitting around the table, chatting away as if they were old friends, all shared a part of the medical profession. Future elitists. I'd be hanging and wisecracking with cops. If I was lucky, that is.

"So, you've recently discovered Kelly's?" Indigo's voice morphed with his mood, which seemed buoyant at that moment.

"Huh?" I tilted my head and squinted, drawing out a guarded, "No," then quipped, "I've been coming here forever." Why did I sound defensive?

"Really? I'm surprised I didn't notice you sooner than ..." He cleared his throat.  Busted, he grinned and rolled his eyes.

He'd noticed me
before
I even knew he existed. My brain immediately jumped on the subject of our first
almost
meeting. Yes ... dig for info ... Blondie.

"Yeah. Strange I've never seen you. Do you come the same time every morning?" I tilted my head.

"A few minutes before ... sometimes a minute or two after seven. Either way, I have to check in at the hospital by seven-thirty."

"Well you know what they say ..." What does
who
say? I was winging it ...

Half of his mouth curved, like the first day I saw him, and I almost melted. "What do they say?"  He cocked his head.

Our faces were so close, I could have sucked in his breath if I raised my head, which I finally did. His eyes bore into mine; clear gray, glimmering with amusement.

I shrugged my brows, becoming philosophic, "A minute too early ... a minute too late ... either way ... you won't catch the train."
Great save. Thank you, Grandma.

"True. Which proves timing is everything." With a curved brow, he smiled and nodded. His elbow rested on the table, thumb and forefinger cupping his chin. "Does that slice of wisdom apply to all modes of public transportation? Now I'll be thinking of you whenever I'm waiting for a cab, or trying to find a seat on the bus."

He looked so calm, so casual, so in control. Why was I feeling like such a Type A?

"Mornings are so busy, faces are a blur I guess. But I know a few people here. Usually see the same grumpy faces every day." I took a breath. "How about you? Know most of the seven a.m. crowd?"

"Nah. I don't have much time to socialize. Not over breakfast, anyway." He winked. "I mean, I know Mike, a couple of the waiters ..." He shrugged.

"Was that your sister the other morning?" How else could I breach the subject of Blondie?