Authors: Vanessa Vale
I doubted he would take no for an answer so I agreed to his offer with a thank-you.
The crunching of glass had Mr. Casale stopping, lifting his foot. “What is this?”
Looking up at the front of my house, I saw that my outdoor lights were broken and the glass scattered on the steps and concrete. I had a small light by the door that was connected to a timer, turning on and off with dusk and dawn, but I also had a motion sensor light off to one side. Simon had installed it after he moved in so that it lit up the side of both of our houses.
“What on earth?” I said to no one in particular. Shit, what a mess! I wanted to swear out loud, but I was used to tempering those words around kids. “The lights are all broken.”
Mr. Casale frowned and Marco watched both of us, unsure.
I sighed, then remembered myself. “Here, sorry.”
I unlocked the front door, taking the grocery bags from both of them, sticking them inside the door.
“Has this happened before?” Mr. Casale asked, glancing down the street one way, then the other, his look shrewd.
“No,” I grumbled, tossing up my hands. “Just leave it. I’ll sweep it up so no one cuts themselves, but will get new bulbs after work tomorrow.”
Mr. Casale shook his head. “I will have this taken care of for you.” When I was about to object, he cut me off. “I will have my son, Frank, take care of replacing the lights for you while you are working. He will be here at seven thirty tomorrow night to make sure the work is acceptable and bring your meal. All right?”
Tilting my head, I eyed the man, trying to read him. I didn’t want to play poker with him. “I have a feeling you’re going to get your way, aren’t you?”
I glanced down at Marco for confirmation and he just grinned, a dimple creasing his cheek. “He always gets his way,” he whispered, but Mr. Casale heard and chuckled.
“Yes, I will have my way with this. You took care of Marco, so now we take care of you.”
***
By the time I’d showered, eaten and swept up the glass, it was nine. Throwing on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top in deference to the heat, I finally had time to check my phone. I stood at my kitchen counter and saw that I had another text from Gray. My heart rate sped up and I felt giddy at the sight of his name. I was smiling in my quiet kitchen. It was a new feeling for me, this excitement about a guy, and I liked it. It was thrilling, and definitely flattering. Gray was hot, a different league entirely than any other man I’d met, and he was interested in me. Me! Why, I had no idea, but I was going to see what happened, even though that concept was completely unfamiliar to me. I didn’t just
see what happened
about anything. I was a mother and a planner and…no, that was the old Emory. Now, I just went with it. With fumbling fingers, I eagerly pulled the message up.
Thor said I shouldn’t have given you crabs on the first date. I’m trying to figure out how that’s possible since we didn’t even kiss.
Eyes widening at his words, I covered my smile with my fingers. God, why did he always have to say just the right thing? I’d been unsure of what the next steps were with him, but he’d made it easy for me to respond. He wasn’t playing games, he was just
going with it,
too. I typed quickly, my thumbs flying over the screen, biting my lip I went.
Does this mean I can’t get that kiss I’ve been thinking about all day?
My finger hovered over the
Send
button only briefly before I scrunched my eyes shut and pressed down. There. I did it. I paced over to the cupboard and got down a glass, filled it with ice and water from the fridge dispenser. God, I wasn’t even thirsty! I paced back across the room and nibbled on my thumbnail, staring at my phone. I hadn’t lied to Gray. I had been thinking about kissing him through my entire shift. He’d said I’d be in his bed soon and the images that conjured had my nipples tightening and I felt my whole body flush at the idea. I ached between my legs in a way my vibrator was not going to soothe.
It was a miracle that my job was busy and distracting enough to keep my thoughts off getting in my car, driving over to his gym and jumping his bones. It probably wouldn’t look good for him to have a woman in scrubs come in and tackle him to the ground.
Although, in
his
job, being tackled to the ground was all in a day’s work. I’d done a search for him online and so much information had come up. His fights, every detail of his career, some bad stories with his father. Old photos, everything. It was obvious why he was wary of people knowing about him and their motives at meeting him. The media spun the information in ways to sell, including the baby with the film star, but I knew the real Gray, at least a little bit, to be able to separate fact from fiction.
Men sought his autograph and both sexes stood in photos with him. A picture with the champ. Women practically tossed themselves at him, scantily clad and eager to be seen and perhaps win the affections of
the
Grayson Green. The Green Machine. I’d laughed at that title because it didn’t suit the real
him
at all. A stab of jealousy had made me bitter toward the busty women in the pictures, but nowhere in his online profile did it mention girlfriends, past or present. These women, who tried to climb his body like a monkey, only had his attentions long enough for a photo. He wasn’t looking at them the way he focused his dark eyes on me. He didn’t even really
see
them. Just smiled for the camera, and after the brief amount of time I’d known him, I could tell the smile wasn’t even genuine.
He was good at what he did. Exceptional, actually. He was one of the best in the industry, if not ever, based on the articles.
My mind shifted to how good he was at tackling. I
so
needed to be tackled like he'd done in the gym, but perhaps in a bed instead. I’d been in a sex drought for years and hadn’t cared all too much. I’d had my vibrator to keep me company and been reasonably satisfied. I barely remembered when sex had been decent with Jack. Last night I’d tossed and turned, wondering what Gray’s lips felt like, whether he’d be gentle or demanding, if he’d press me up against the wall while he was kissing me and—
My cell rang and I jumped a foot. Gray.
“You want to kiss me?” he asked, his voice a deep grumble. I practically melted into a pool of goo at the sound and I loved the fact that he asked that without even saying hello.
“Um, crap.” I shut my eyes, took a quick breath and said the truth. “Yes.”
The line was quiet for a minute, but I could hear music in the background. Based on the crazy beat, I had to assume he was in the gym. Or out at a dance club, but I couldn’t picture that with him. “Shit, Emory. That one word is the hottest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
I crinkled my brow. “Really? All I said was yes.”
“It means that we’re more than just people who coincidentally meet in a park.”
“You make it sound like we’re practically lovers.” I walked over to my junk drawer, pulled it open and started weeding out expired coupons from the pile, wedging my cell between my ear and my shoulder.
“I know.”
I dropped the phone into the pile of junk. In my haste to grab it, I bumped my hip on the drawer and shut it, phone inside. “Shit!” With fumbling fingers, I yanked it back open and pulled out the phone. “Gray? Sorry, I dropped the phone.”
“Look, I’ve got to go.”
“Oh.” I heard the pout in my voice.
“Emory,” he groaned. “I’m at the gym with a bunch of guys still on the mats and when I hang up the phone, I’m going to have to sit here in my office for a few minutes and pretend to do paperwork before I can head back out there to coach.”
“Oh,” I repeated. Then I realized what he meant and I flushed hotly, savoring this little rush of power I had over him. “
Oh!
Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you what I’m wearing.” I was cruel and I knew it.
“No,” he hissed. “Goodbye, Emory.” He hung up, and I laughed as I did a little happy dance on the steps up to bed.
GRAY
Emory was a distraction. Plain and simple. I hadn’t been able to leave my office for twenty minutes after our phone call the night before because I had a hard-on that could pound nails, just from having her tell me she wanted to kiss me. Just a kiss! I usually fucked them and forgot their names by now and I was losing my mind just from the idea of
kissing
Emory.
My first training session of the day was at six thirty and a restless night of sleep from thoughts of a very introverted nurse had me in the ring as a fighting partner.
“Dude, what crawled up your ass and died?” Reed asked when I’d pushed him through not only a five-mile run on the treadmill, but an all-out sparring session. We sat on the edge of the mat to cool down. I pounded water and wiped my sweaty head with a towel. The guy was almost half my age and he was toast, arms resting on bent knees, his breath coming in harsh pants. His dark hair was dripping wet, his skin on his tattooed arms were slick with sweat. He wanted to be an MMA champion. He could get there if he tried hard enough—and he paid me to see that happen.
My muscles ached from pushing him—and myself, but I needed something, anything, to burn off this restless energy. I’d had to take my dick in hand in the shower the night before to ease the discomfort. Blue balls was something new to me. Waiting for a woman was new to me. Desperate just for a kiss was absolutely new to me.
“You’re weak,” I muttered.
He laughed, but then groaned. “You’re old,” he countered.
“Yeah, but I fucking kicked your ass.” I schooled him and he knew it. Keeping his ego in check was just as important as teaching him to fight.
We slapped hands, then I stood and headed up to my apartment to shower. I first went over to my cell on the kitchen counter and sent a text to Emory.
Have dinner with me.
When I heard the phone ring an hour later, I thought it was her and answered it without checking the screen. I should have known better, should have known Emory would cloud my judgement.
“Didn’t think you’d answer.”
The voice on the line had my back stiffening. “What the fuck do you want now?”
“That’s how you treat your father? I call twice in one week. Whatever happened to family ties?”
I refused to be baited. Whatever feelings I had a moment before about Emory were crushed beneath my father’s grating voice.
“What do you want?” I repeated. “That’s the only reason you’re calling.”
“You hung up on me the other night. It’s time to talk.”
The last thing on earth I wanted to do was talk to my dad. After his call the other night, I’d blocked him out, just like I always did. I pushed him and the fucking memories that went with him down deep.
“That fight next month with Reed Johnson. I saw he’s one of yours.”
Reed was training for his third competition this year. He was two and O so far and if he kept his head on straight, would have another victory.
“What about it?” I replied, my words a sharp bite. I went to my kitchen and leaned against the granite counter. Emory was right, it was ridiculously clean. God, I didn’t want to think of her when I was talking to my old man, but she kept popping into my head at odd times, and when it happened, it felt like Christmas morning. Christmas morning for those who had Norman Rockwell childhoods, not a fucker for a father.
“I’ve got money riding on it. Don’t blow it.”
I shook my head and laughed, then pinched the bridge of my nose. That’s all he wanted from me—another bet. “Yeah, that’s why I’m training him to be the best, so you can make your money.”
My dad barked out a laugh. “You think I’m betting
on
your guy? Hell no. I’m betting on Ramirez. Just keep doing a fuck-up job of your life and your kid’ll blow it and I’ll rake in the dough.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Fuck you,” I muttered. I heard my old man’s miserable laugh as I pushed the
End
button. Yeah, no sunshine and unicorns in my family.
How I could let my dad push my buttons after all these years was something I’d never understand. He was a fucking asshole and I’d walked away after graduation and never looked back. Somehow he kept getting my unlisted numbers and called just to fuck with me. This was a new low and it was hard to handle. I wanted to punch the shit out of something and that’s why I had the gym downstairs. Instead of taking that shower, I headed back downstairs to hit the bags and work off some of the anger.
A few hours later, with my anger tamed and my muscles sore, I finally got that shower. After, I climbed into my car to head to a lunch meeting across town. The ping of a new text came from my pocket. I hit the air conditioning to high and grabbed the phone.
Is this a date? You said I’d know for sure when you asked me out.
I grinned, remembering my words.
Whatever angst lingered from the shit with my dad slipped away as I typed.
It is if you say yes.
I put on my seat belt.
I will be in my scrubs and gross, so I will want a redo.
I shook my head and shut my eyes briefly at her humor.
You can have a redo. Definitely. As many as you want.
I didn’t hear from her right away, so I set off for my appointment. Five minutes later, when I heard my cell ping again, I pulled into a strip mall lot to read the text.
I forgot. Someone is bringing me dinner. Long story. Come over at 7:30.
Later, when I walked up the sidewalk to her place right on time, I knew the man and the boy sitting on Emory’s steps were part of the long story.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMORY
Not used to attractive men waiting for me on my steps, I stopped short as I walked up the sidewalk toward my house. I couldn’t help but ogle the two men. Gray leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. The other man I’d never met, but was most likely Marco’s uncle. The boy sat on the step above and the family resemblance was strong. Marco’s hands waved in the air, animated and lively as he talked. While the man was focused on his nephew, Gray watched me as I approached and I felt the familiar flutter at the sight of him. I was becoming used to the sensation and I wasn’t afraid of it any longer. He was so relaxed, so at ease. So flippin’ hot. And he was here for me. Taking a deep breath, I walked toward them once again. His dark eyes raked over me, from my work clogs, my scrubs and to my messy ponytail. I could only imagine what he thought of me dressed like this, in the outfit I considered man-repellant.