She sighs, and the sound goes straight to my dick, making him even harder. Fuck, I need to get laid, preferably by this tight little blonde who is making me crazy.
“I’m not exactly sure what I want to do.”
“But you gotta make money, right?” I joke flippantly, wanting to make her laugh. She doesn’t.
“Hmm, I…I have an inheritance that’s allowing me to take my time.”
She probably lost a grandparent or some shit. Sucks, but not what I want her thinking about right now. Time for a subject change. “That’s good. If you can swing it, don’t settle. When I got out of the service, I roamed around for several months, a bit lifeless, not sure what to do with myself after being a soldier for eight years. And then one day, I walked by this rundown gym. There was a For Sale sign on the window, so I walked in and bought it.”
“Just like that?” She has awe in her tone. Now that’s what I want to hear. A bit of surprise and happiness.
“Just like that. I’d saved all my money from the service since I had room and board and food in my belly. I used most of it to buy the gym with cash. Came with an attached apartment, so now I’m a home and business owner.”
“Smart.”
I grin stupidly at her compliment. “Well, I won’t say it’s the best investment I’ve ever made, but it’s made me happy. I’ve got a home and a job doing what I love. Though it still needs a lot of work.”
“A lot of work?”
“Yeah, there’s only so far my money could go since I paid cash. Didn’t want to owe any bank. Now I’m working hard and fixing it up as funds become available. One day, though, it’s going to be the top boxing gym in the city.”
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
I smile into the phone. “You’re easy to impress. I like that. Means you’re not stuck up.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been called prissy.” She laughs lightly.
Her laughter makes me beam with delight. “Like hearing your laughter. Makes other parts of me happy too,” I admit, wanting her to know what she does to me. Though, I should ease her into my devious ways with her being so skittish.
“Mmm.” She hums into the line, and I swear my dick jumps at the sexy sound.
“You excited about our date?” I remind her of what’s happening on Friday.
“Yes. I am. What should I wear?”
Now that’s a normal girl response I can relate to, having grown up with five sisters. “Something casual—jeans would be fine—but like I said, you’ll need a jacket.”
“I can do that.”
“I’m glad, babe. You get some rest. We’ll talk more, yeah?”
“I’d like that, Nick. Good night.”
“Night, Dove.”
Hanging up the phone, I can’t help my insta-grin. She didn’t tell me her life story, but I got my girl talking. I’ve learned that she’s highly educated, really smart if she has a degree from Stanford, but also unemployed. Which is rather strange. Even if she graduated after six years, that means she’s been without a job for two full years. Inheritance or not, that’s a long time. More for me to dig into on our date.
As far as first calls go, I’d consider that one a win. Bit by bit, I’m going to break down the shy walls Honor Carmichael has built until she lets me in completely. I’ll never understand my overarching need for her until she’s bared it all.
Chapter Eight
Wheel Pose (Sanskrit: Chakrasana)
Wheel Pose in most yoga classes would be considered an intermediate to advanced level asana. There are many ways you can hurt the back and body by doing this pose incorrectly. Start by sitting in the hammock with most of the silk crawling up your lower back so you have a large base holding your form. Allow the legs to fall naturally down toward the floor. Use your hands to slowly inch down the silks, going into a back bend. The head and neck should fall naturally. Do not strain. If you are flexible enough, arc back so the hands can take hold of the ankles or feet. This position should only be done in the presence of a certified aerial yoga teacher or after many successful attempts.
HONOR
“This would look incredible on you! You have to try it on!” Gracie exclaims, holding up a fitted, black, sleeveless dress.
The thought of a sleeveless dress practically gives me hives where I stand. An itch to pull down the arms of my sweater prickles at the back of my neck. “I prefer longer sleeves.” I bite my lip and try to hold eye contact with Grace.
She worries her lip and then taps it with her index finger while evaluating the dress. “Okay. The length and low neck work for you?”
I offer my new friend a small smile in return. She doesn’t know how much her go-with-the-flow attitude and no-questions-asked personality eases me. While Grace is exuberant, fun, and one hundred percent an extrovert, she doesn’t attempt to force her choices or personal style on anyone else.
On the other hand, the women my mother coerces to hang out with me do. I loathe having to sit through lunches where brainless, rich women talk about the newest fashions or gossip about who is getting work done and why. I know the second I leave them alone they are all talking badly about me. Poor Honor Carmichael, daughter of Judi Gannon-Carmichael, the one who will never live up to her family’s expectations. The woman her own mother is trying to marry off for business gain.
I let out a long breath and focus on the new top Gracie is holding up. It’s beautiful, flowy, and nothing like what I normally wear. I love it instantly. It’s a deep emerald green with cutouts along the outside of the sleeve. So, it shows the outside of the arm in peek-a-boo holes but not the inside. My henna and what’s hidden beneath it stay a secret.
