“We’re not…together.” And evidently they wouldn’t be getting together if Aiden wasn’t having sex until his wedding day. What was Sadie supposed to do, marry him to get some? She snorted to herself.
“Why aren’t you two together?” Crickitt asked, reclaiming her abandoned breadstick. “What are you afraid of?”
“Are you kidding me? How about him calling from across the country to dump me over the phone?”
Crickitt tilted her head. “He regrets that, Sadie. More than you know.” She finished chewing and patted her lips with the napkin. “Don’t get mad at me for saying this.”
Sadie felt herself getting angry already, but willed the emotion away. Crickitt was her best friend. She wouldn’t tell her anything she didn’t need to hear. Even if she didn’t want to hear it. “Say it.”
“I think you’ve gotten all the mileage you can out of that phone call.”
“Mileage?” Sadie asked, struggling to keep her tone even. “You mean, like, pity?”
Crickitt shook her head and kept her hand firmly over Sadie’s. “It was a terrible, awful, devastating phone call from a man who was going through a terrible, awful, devastating time. Aiden is a good man, Sadie. And you”—she lifted her hand and gestured to Sadie—“you’re an absolute ten in every way. Let it go. Forgive him. And let yourself be happy.”
Sadie thought about that for a second. Crickitt made it sound so easy. Was it that easy? “But what if I can’t?”
“What if you can?”
Sadie blinked at her empty plate. A second later, it was whisked away by their waiter.
What if she could?
Did she dare put herself on the line again?
* * *
Aiden managed not to fidget with the pen in his hand, but his foot bounced up and down like a sewing machine needle. He’d spent the last ten minutes explaining his plan—his creative financial plan—to purchase all five Axle’s stores. Axle remained silent the entire time, his eyes flat black stones, his face impassive.
The day Aiden had taken Sadie to lunch, she’d given him invaluable advice. Find out what he wants, she told him. Did Axle want to open a smaller store elsewhere or never look at another motorcycle again? Did he want to continue custom building and advertise locally or collect soda cans in Key West and live in a hut?
Since that lunch, Aiden had slipped in questions whenever he and Axle had a moment alone, mentally taking notes and planning his pitch. Turns out Axle had no plans to move to Florida, and he wasn’t about to give up building bikes. Axle wanted to stay in Osborn, build replicas of vintage motorcycles, and sell to local stores who would in turn resell them for profit. Axle’s business plan was solid, his talent for crafting custom-made bikes impressive. They’d sell like hell. But Aiden didn’t want him to sell to anybody. He wanted Axle to sell to him.
Exclusively to him.
Aiden hoped the offer he’d pitched—giving Axle all of the profits from the sale of his bikes, and a percentage of the profits from this, his largest store for two years—would appeal enough to get his agreement. Aiden needed to get some more money together to get the loan for the stores. After extensive number crunching, and adding in the increased business Axle’s coveted replicas would bring in, Aiden figured two years was more than enough time. By then he could buy the stores outright and Axle could continue his hobby and bank a hefty lump sum when the sale closed.
Aiden just needed Axle to keep it in his name for those two years.
“Done deal,” Axle said.
Aiden blinked the mountain range in front of him into focus. “Really?”
Axle’s mouth cracked into a barely there smile. “Yup.”
Aiden burst out of the guest chair like his pants were on fire. “Thank you, Axle. You won’t be sorry. I’m—” Aiden cut himself off when he realized Axle was grousing up at him. “Thanks.” Aiden ran into Sadie on her way to the office from the sales floor.
He grasped her shoulders and backed her into the supply closet, flipped on the light, and closed the door behind them. Sadie’s eyebrows were up, lips poised, probably to ask him what he was doing.
Aiden lost sight of the answer.
Sharing his news took low priority with Sadie’s lips this close. He pressed her against a shelf filled with paper, boxes of pens, and rolls of receipts, and kissed her. She kissed him back, stroking his face with cool, slim fingers as she moved her mouth against his. He pulled away to find a satisfied smile on her face, her lids at half-mast. Mmm. His favorite look on her.