Jordyn's Army
The radio in the background goes quiet. Sienna clears her throat. “You know, my mom always said that the right guy will just pop up. She always told my sister and me that you won’t find him if you’re looking. And look how I found Walker.”
I laugh. “You’re lucky Walker decided to date you and not kill you. It was touch-and-go there for a minute.”
Sienna’s giggle mixes with mine. “He didn’t stand a chance against my charm.”
“Whatever you say.”
The door chimes ring. Sunshine fills the room with light and warmth. I peer around a pole.
“I think the guy is coming back,” I whisper into the phone.
“What guy?”
“The guy whose wet clothes are piled on top of a table.” I gasp. “What if he thinks I did it? I’m not taking the blame without a fight.”
“You need a hobby. That or your head needs to be examined.”
“Not my head, but my foot could use a look.”
Sienna starts in for the millionth time on why I need to take yoga.
How it’s good for my mind and body and all the jazz. I tune her out, giving her an uh-huh at appropriate moments, as I watch for the patron to find his clothes not in a machine.
When he steps into my view, I’m not prepared.
Mostly because it’s not him.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
“What?” Sienna asks.
My mouth goes dry as my gaze settles on a man clearly out of his element. Dark denim jeans that look cut to fit his muscled body stretch over long legs. A crisp, white Polo shirt sets off his tanned skin.
He takes off a pair of sunglasses as he looks around the room. His jaw is sharp and angular. Thick, sandy-brown hair looks freshly cut and styled to appear as if his hands have been running through it all morning.
The things I’d like to do …
“Sienna, I gotta go,” I whisper in a rush.
“What’s going on over there?”
Before I can explain, he looks at me.
I almost drop the phone.
His gaze settles on me as a smile breaks across his gorgeous face.
The phone hits the floor.
“Damn it.” I scramble to the floor and grab it, refusing to look back up. “Sorry,” I say to Sienna. “I dropped you.”
“What are you doing? You’re … flustered.”
As if I have no choice, my gaze flips back to the other occupant of the laundromat. He sets a bag on the table as he watches me through thick lashes.
His teeth are a bright white as he bites his bottom lip and grins. A confidence oozes from him that chips away at my own. I usually keep the power in exchanges with men. This time, though, I might be at a disadvantage.
I smile back, trying not to bat my lashes like a woman mesmerized. Because that’s me. I’m that woman. I can barely find my voice under the weight of his gaze.