Read Online Boxed Set: Intercepted by Love (The Complete Collection): Books One - Book Six by Rachelle Ayala - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachelle Ayala
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not you. Just myself.” Andie yanked her white ski jacket from the coat rack, causing the entire rack to tumble. The top hit her head, and she tripped over her boots.
Cade caught her before she slammed into the mirror near the doorway. “Whoa, careful there. What’s going on? Why are you mad at yourself?”
He steadied her. The feel of her body under his hands was overwhelming, and he was close enough to inhale that sweet fragrance of hers, like soap and sunshine, not flowery or overpowering, but sexy with a hint of fire.
“Because I’m not good at this, this friend zone thing.”
“What friend zone? You mean us?” Cade tightened his muscles to stop his hands from shaking. For goodness sake, he was a professional quarterback. No wonder he’d thrown away the Super Bowl because his hands shook under pressure. Stepping away from Andie, he crossed his arms and tucked his hands under his armpits. “You don’t want to be friends anymore?”
It figured. She’d seen his weak underbelly last night, and she no longer respected him.
“I do want to be friends.” She sniffled into her hands. “I do.”
“Good, then let’s do some friend stuff. What do you guys do in Itasca? I mean, there’s no beach and no mountain biking in the snow.”
Despite trying to sound upbeat, his chest hollowed out and his gut clenched, but he couldn’t let her go, not yet. A week ago, he’d been despondent and numb, not knowing how lonely he really was until he met Andie.
She’d swept into his life, a bright red breeze of hope, and occupied his every thought, as well as put him in a state of perpetual arousal.
His accusation of nothing to do in Itasca seemed to help Andie pull herself away from her depression over her lost dog. She straightened her stance and paced around the entryway. “There’s shooting clay pigeons, snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, snowboarding, downhill skiing, snow tubing, and fat bikes. Lots of things.”
“Fat bikes? What’s that?”
“You think we have no mountain biking in the snow? You’re wrong.” She chopped her hand in emphasis, seeming to brighten at the challenge. “Fat bikes are mountain bikes with huge tires. Large, underinflated tires that hug onto the snow. You have to try it.”
“Got me there, snow girl. Let’s do it.” Cade rotated his stiff shoulder. His contract with the LA Flash banned him from downhill skiing and snowboarding, but nothing said anything about fat biking.
Of course he’d be careful not to reinjure his throwing shoulder.
“It’s not as easy as you think.” She stuck her pink tongue out at him.
Heat sizzled over every nerve, and blood thundered in both his big head and little head. How the hell was he going to stay sane with her teasing him?
He shoved his hands into his pockets to make room in his pants, and turned toward the kitchen to find a notepad. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
“Pick me up in front of the library tomorrow morning around eight. Make sure to dress warmly, boots, gloves, ski goggles, if you have any, and biking helmet. I’ll pack some food, but if you have a backpack that would be great.”
Her voice was clipped as she slid her feet into her boots and tied them. Somehow the distance was back again. She was really upset about the dog, and he didn’t blame her.
But she’d left the door open with the fat biking trip. Whoever told him New Yorkers were unfriendly hadn’t been to Itasca.
“Sure, I can’t wait. Have a good evening, Andie.” He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her, the light and easy way they had last night, but what she saw right now was a loser. Her half-empty and half-full psychobabble was just that, a whole load of pity for the ugly baby who no one wanted to adopt.
Chapter 13
Sunday morning dawned sunny but not that cold. Andie checked the weather forecast. Twenty-one degrees and five degrees wind chill. Just right for a nice day at Watkin’s Peak, the local ski area half an
Cade caught her before she slammed into the mirror near the doorway. “Whoa, careful there. What’s going on? Why are you mad at yourself?”
He steadied her. The feel of her body under his hands was overwhelming, and he was close enough to inhale that sweet fragrance of hers, like soap and sunshine, not flowery or overpowering, but sexy with a hint of fire.
“Because I’m not good at this, this friend zone thing.”
“What friend zone? You mean us?” Cade tightened his muscles to stop his hands from shaking. For goodness sake, he was a professional quarterback. No wonder he’d thrown away the Super Bowl because his hands shook under pressure. Stepping away from Andie, he crossed his arms and tucked his hands under his armpits. “You don’t want to be friends anymore?”
It figured. She’d seen his weak underbelly last night, and she no longer respected him.
“I do want to be friends.” She sniffled into her hands. “I do.”
“Good, then let’s do some friend stuff. What do you guys do in Itasca? I mean, there’s no beach and no mountain biking in the snow.”
Despite trying to sound upbeat, his chest hollowed out and his gut clenched, but he couldn’t let her go, not yet. A week ago, he’d been despondent and numb, not knowing how lonely he really was until he met Andie.
She’d swept into his life, a bright red breeze of hope, and occupied his every thought, as well as put him in a state of perpetual arousal.
His accusation of nothing to do in Itasca seemed to help Andie pull herself away from her depression over her lost dog. She straightened her stance and paced around the entryway. “There’s shooting clay pigeons, snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, snowboarding, downhill skiing, snow tubing, and fat bikes. Lots of things.”
“Fat bikes? What’s that?”
“You think we have no mountain biking in the snow? You’re wrong.” She chopped her hand in emphasis, seeming to brighten at the challenge. “Fat bikes are mountain bikes with huge tires. Large, underinflated tires that hug onto the snow. You have to try it.”
“Got me there, snow girl. Let’s do it.” Cade rotated his stiff shoulder. His contract with the LA Flash banned him from downhill skiing and snowboarding, but nothing said anything about fat biking.
Of course he’d be careful not to reinjure his throwing shoulder.
“It’s not as easy as you think.” She stuck her pink tongue out at him.
Heat sizzled over every nerve, and blood thundered in both his big head and little head. How the hell was he going to stay sane with her teasing him?
He shoved his hands into his pockets to make room in his pants, and turned toward the kitchen to find a notepad. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
“Pick me up in front of the library tomorrow morning around eight. Make sure to dress warmly, boots, gloves, ski goggles, if you have any, and biking helmet. I’ll pack some food, but if you have a backpack that would be great.”
Her voice was clipped as she slid her feet into her boots and tied them. Somehow the distance was back again. She was really upset about the dog, and he didn’t blame her.
But she’d left the door open with the fat biking trip. Whoever told him New Yorkers were unfriendly hadn’t been to Itasca.
“Sure, I can’t wait. Have a good evening, Andie.” He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her, the light and easy way they had last night, but what she saw right now was a loser. Her half-empty and half-full psychobabble was just that, a whole load of pity for the ugly baby who no one wanted to adopt.
Chapter 13
Sunday morning dawned sunny but not that cold. Andie checked the weather forecast. Twenty-one degrees and five degrees wind chill. Just right for a nice day at Watkin’s Peak, the local ski area half an
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