The Girl with my Heart (Summer Unplugged #8) (2 page)

The deep rumble of a 450f drowns out all other sounds as Jason Howard keeps the throttle pinned, soaring around the corner of the motocross track. I check the timer in my hand and wave at him when he turns back around, his neon yellow helmet facing me.

“Ja-
SON
!” I yell victoriously, cupping my hands to my mouth. The kid is only fourteen years old and he’s been riding less than a year. He’s a quick learner, that’s for sure.

Jason rides back through the side of the track, stopping the bike in front of me. The motor rumbles as he pulls off his goggles and unfastens his helmet.

“How’d I do?” he asks, his chest heaving up and down.

“You out of breath?” I ask, slapping him on the shoulder. “Looks like someone needs to do more cardio.”

“Aw,
man
,” he groans, setting his helmet on the dirt bike’s gas tank. “Don’t make me do it today.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Too late. I already promised your mom we’d hit the track.”

“How about we just hit this track?” he says, pointing down at the dirt below us.

“Sorry.” I fold my arms across my chest, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I promised your mom you’d run five miles today. Apparently she’s pissed at how many late night video game sessions you’ve had lately.”

“This is bullshit,” Jason says, kicking at the ground.

“Sorry, man.” I pat him on the back. “You’ll thank me later when you’re kicking ass at the regionals.”

The running track isn’t so much of a track as it is a stretch of field on the far east side of Mixon Motocross Park. I started jogging it when I first took the job here and now the grass is worn down. Two laps is a half of a mile and the parents of the kids I train seem to think it’s an awesome idea to include workouts in our training regimen. It’s no joke though, racing a dirt bike is hard as hell.

Which is why I grab a bottle of water and start running with Jason. It’s scorching hot but the ache in my legs feels amazing after a few days of being lazy. I pick up my pace and run up behind Jason as he lags along on the track as if he has all the time in the world.

“Hey man, gotta run faster,” I call out as I reach him.

He wipes sweat off his forehead. “I’m running as hard as I can.”

“It doesn’t have to be hard,” I say, smiling. “Just relax and take it one step at a time.”

“Damn,” Jason says, as we turn around the fake running track and start heading toward the main office. He sounds more enthusiastic than he has all day. “Who’s that hottie?”

“Huh?” I look up and find Natalie walking toward us carrying two bottles of water. There’s a massive smile on her face and a bounce in her step that has to be incredibly hard to maintain. Is she walking like that on purpose?

Jason sighs. “She has
amazing
boobs.”

“I think she’s trying a little too hard,” I say as we slow to a walk.

Jason snorts. “Please tell me you’re joking. There’s no such thing as a girl trying too hard.”

I give him a sideways glance. I’d tell him exactly what I think about him making a statement like that, but I can’t because Natalie breaks into a scamper and rushes up to us, holding out the bottles of water in front of her. It only makes her boobs squish together more.

“Hey guys!” She smiles and her teeth are impossibly white. They pretty much sparkle as much as that silver shit on top of her eyelids. “I brought you some water.” She makes this weird laughing sound. “It’s crazy hot out here.”

“It’s hotter than usual for April,” I say, taking the bottle she offers and handing her my empty one.

“What’s up?” Jason asks, throwing his head back and trying to act way older than he actually is.

“Oh not much,” Natalie says, flipping her golden hair behind her shoulders. She grabs my arm and squeezes. “My boss isn’t keeping me very busy.”

“Wait.” Jason holds out his hands. “Jace is your
boss
?”

She laughs again, sliding her hand down my arm. “Yep. He’s pretty awesome as far as bosses go.”

Jason gives me this look of awe, like he thinks I’m some kind of god or something. “I’m not really her boss.”

“Oh my
god
, yes you are!” Natalie’s voice is shrill. She slaps my arm. “You’re gonna make me look like a liar or something!” She rolls her eyes and looks at Jason. “I swear he’s my boss. I’m like the luckiest girl in the world.”

Jason nods. “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of my boss too, but he rides my ass like crazy.”

“I am definitely luckier than you,” Natalie says. She bobs up and down on her toes. “Jace must like me better.”

“Hey, he likes me a lot,” Jason says, standing all tall and arrogant. Natalie rolls her eyes.

“Okay this is getting weird,” I say, shoving my hand in my pocket. “No one needs to fight over how much I like them.”

“He’s right,” Jason says, cracking open the lid on his water. “Besides, he likes his wife better than anyone.”

“That’s for sure,” I say, pointing at him. I turn and start walking back toward the office.

Natalie whispers something to Jason. It’s probably just my imagination and the roar of dirt bikes drowning out most sounds but I can almost swear that I heard her say something that might ruin this entire summer for me.

Maybe I’m wrong but it sure sounded like she had said, “I’ll make him like me better than her.”

The scent of teriyaki sauce filters in from the front door when I get home after work. I hang my keys up on the rack near the door. “Bay?” I call out as I make my way into the kitchen. “Did someone break into the house and start cooking?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bay turns around at the stove, glaring at me as she holds a wooden spatula. “Is the idea that I’m cooking just too impossible to believe?”

“Yep,” I say sarcastically. She hits me with the fist that holds onto the spatula and I grab her around the waist and pull her close to me. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she says, pulling away. She gives me one of her newfound Mom Glares. “You trying to make me burn this stuff?”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Nope! Carry on.”

“Good,” she says, turning back to the stove. There’s something a little off in her demeanor tonight and I don’t think it’s from my playful comment about her cooking. She’s been cooking a lot more lately, which puts me to shame. I used to be the cook in this family.

By the time we sit down to dinner, I know something is officially wrong with my wife. She’s staring at her food as she eats, mumbling just one word answers to everything I say.

“So how was your day?” I ask.

“Fine.”

“Did Jett do anything exciting?”

“Not really.”

I stab into a piece of chicken. “Dinner is delicious, babe. Thanks for cooking.”

“Uh-huh.”

My brows draw together. “Are you okay?”

Bayleigh swirls some rice around in her bowl. “I’m fine.”

I set my fork down. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

She looks at me now, after ten full minutes of staring at her food. “Sorry,” she says with a heavy sigh. “I really am fine. I’ve just had a blah day.”

“How was it blah?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Did anything happen?”

She shakes her head. Alarm bells go off in my mind. It’s not her birthday, it’s not our anniversary…tonight wasn’t any kind of special day. Just a plain boring Monday. “Are you…” I say the words very slowly, “mad at me..?”

“No I’m not mad at you.” She stands and brings her bowl to the trash, dumping the rest of her food. “You’re perfect. Nothing is wrong with you.”

My heart races. Something is wrong. Shit, shit, shit. I did something. Or I didn’t do something? Whatever it is, she’s not telling me and that means it’s bad.

I stand up and walk over to her, taking her by the hand. “Look, if I did something wrong, let me know. I’m obviously a total dick because I can’t even think of what it could be.”

She shakes her head and her eyes fill with tears. “Just drop it, okay? I’m not mad at you.”

As if on cue, Jett starts crying. Bayleigh draws in a deep breath and forces a smile. “I’m going to go check on him,” she says. She doesn’t even look at me. I watch her rush down the hallway and slip into Jett’s room, closing the door behind her. My mind reels. I check my phone to see if I accidently missed a text or a call from her today, but I didn’t. She didn’t even text me all day, which is kind of unusual.

A knot forms in my stomach. We spend the rest of the night watching Netflix in bed with Jett lying between us. We do this all the time but tonight it feels different. Maybe I’m just overly concerned but it really feels like she’s using Jett is a human barrier to keep me away from her.

She swears everything is fine but all I know is that my wife is upset with me and I have no idea why.

There’s a hot cup of coffee waiting in my office the next morning. I know Mr. Fisher didn’t leave it there, so that leaves one explanation and that makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I pick up the paper coffee cup and hold it eye level. It’s so fresh that steam wafts from the top. I sigh.

“Good morning!” Natalie bops into my room, holding an armful of sugar and creamer packets. Today she’s wearing a frayed pair of cut off jean shorts with the pockets sticking out on top of her thighs and a tank top with no bra. I can tell she’s not wearing a bra because her nipples blare at me like two caffeinated spotlights begging to be seen. “Do you still want black coffee today, or can I sweeten it for you?”

I point to the cup in my hand. “Did you do this?”

She nods, smiling from ear to ear. “Of course I did. I’m your assistant and I’m determined to be the best one ever.”

“Yeah, about that. I can get my own coffee. You don’t need to worry about it.”

She rolls her eyes. “You are too nice, Mr. Adams. But…” She steps closer, ripping open one of the sugar packets. “I’m here to make your life easier.” She grabs my hand over the coffee cup and pulls it toward her, until my knuckles are pressed between her cleavage. “Do you like one sugar?” she asks, tilting the packet into the coffee, still clutching my hand against her chest. When it’s empty, she looks up at me. “Or two?”

If I jerk my hand away, the coffee will spill all over her. She may be instantly annoying but she doesn’t need second degree burns from her boss. The last thing I need is a lawsuit. “One is fine,” I say, gently tugging on my hand. She finally releases me.

“What about creamer?” She takes one of the plastic creamer packets, presses it to her lips seductively and pulls off the paper top with her teeth.

I am not an idiot. I know what she’s doing. “Look, Natalie.” I put the coffee on my desk and fold my arms across my chest, looking as much like Mr. Fisher as I can manage. He’s intimidating. Girls don’t flirt with him. “I am a married man.”

“Uh yeah, I know,” she says sarcastically. “Trust me, everyone knows.”

I lift an eyebrow. Does she need me to spell it out for her? “Yeah, that means you can’t act like this if you want to keep working here. I am married. I am happy. You just can’t continue.”

“Excuse me?” Her face wrinkles in confusion and she crosses her arms which makes her boobs almost float out the top of her shirt. “What exactly does that mean, Mr. Adams? Are you…” Her voice rises. “Are you
hitting
on me?”

“What?”
I stand, completely caught off guard. I throw my hands in the air. “Are you fucking with me right now? Obviously I’m not hitting on you.”

Natalie’s eyes go all wide and she stares at me, open-mouthed. “Good. I am a professional and I took this job so that I could stay in the motocross world and make connections with the people I admire. I can’t even believe you would think you can get away with flirting with me.”

I laugh out loud. “This is a joke, obviously. I get it now.” I shake my head and grab the coffee, taking a sip. “You’re good,” I say, pointing a finger at her. “You really had me going.”

“Of course,” she says, a sweet smile playing across her lips. She steps closer and reaches up, grabbing my shoulder to pull herself up on her toes. She leans in really close, her lips grazing my ear. “Like I said, I am a professional. I’m here for whatever you need.” Her boobs press into my chest, making her statement fully known. I’m paralyzed, unable to do anything in the moment because I am so fucking confused. She giggles. “Anything you need, as discrete as you’d like.”

Oh my god. What the hell is wrong with this girl? Now she thinks she has permission to fuck around with me secretly? I shake my head, stepping backward but I knock into the wall behind my desk. I can’t get any further away. “Listen, Natalie—” I begin. My annoyance turns into full out anger. I’m about to tell this bitch off. This is not okay and it won’t continue. “You have to stop—” I’m cut off mid-sentence by the banging of a door down the hallway.

Natalie jumps away from me, smoothing her shirt down with her hands. Mr. Fisher appears in the doorway. “Good  morning! Damn alarm clock didn’t go off this morning.” He smiles. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope!” Natalie says, all smiles and peppy demeanor. “Mr. Adams was just telling me he had a ton of work to do today.”

She throws a smile over her shoulder and then prances out of my office, closing the door behind her. I drop into my chair, resting my head in my hands.

What the hell is wrong with this girl?