Up to Me (Shore Secrets) (27 page)

“Want a lift back to the Manor?”

“No!” The word came out too fast, too harsh.

Sure enough, Ward’s eyebrows shot up. “Want a lift anywhere
but
the Manor?”

This was where guys excelled. They caught a whiff of a sticky situation and provided immediate action to get as far away from it as possible. No stupid talking things to death. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

Ward rummaged in the bed of the truck, and then threw a trash bag at him. “You’re a mess. Sit on that.”

Well, shit. Just when Gray thought he couldn’t feel any worse, any dumber. He climbed into the cab of the truck, wincing at every crinkle of the plastic beneath his ass like he was an incontinent geyser. This was definitely a low point.

“You and Ella have a fight?” Ward asked as he accelerated back onto the road.

“Not yet.”

Another few miles sped by. Neat rows of vineyards, bracketed by a squat winery and wide pasture land with horses, in an endless loop on one side. On the other stretched the lake, a deep Prussian blue he remembered from the single semester of art he’d taken as an elective in college. Staring at it soothed him. Just enough to take the edge off his temper. Enough to keep him from pounding his fist against the window.

“You piss Ella off, that’s your business.” Ward said it straight and simple, like he was recounting box scores. “You hurt her, I come after you.”

“Noted.” And more than fair. Gray would do the same. That is, if he had any long-term friends to go to bat for. Guess if his mom ever started dating again he could roll out a similar threat. Although he’d be so happy for his mom he’d be more inclined to buy the guy the biggest steak on the planet.

“Is this bad enough I should beat you up pre-emptively?”

Gray shifted, rustling the plastic. Thought about it. About how much it would hurt Ella to know he’d lied to her. How angry she’d be to discover his real reason for being here. Then an even scarier thought hammered into him. What if she thought it was all a sham? That he’d gotten close to her, that he’d bared himself like never before, just to insinuate himself into her life? That she was a task on his to-do list to assemble his report?

“Might be a good idea,” he said in a low monotone.

Another few miles of beautiful sameness sped by. Ward reached back between the seats then handed Gray a six-pack of soda. Grateful, he snapped two out of the rings, opened them, and set one in the cup holder for Ward. The fizz of the carbonation was the only thing that broke the silence for another five minutes.

Then, when they stopped at a winery entrance to let a party bus slowly back out into traffic, Ward thumped his hands against the steering wheel. “You’re gonna have to tell me.”

“What?”

“What you were running from. Or how you’re about to fuck things up with Ella. Take your pick.”

Gray watched an already-wasted-before-noon woman flash him a hit of tangerine bra from the party bus, then sink back into her seat, laughing maniacally. “I pick anything but those two topics. I’d rather talk about ways to get rid of skunk stink. Or even describe the Technicolor misery of when I got food poisoning from a street vendor taco in Mexico.”

“Well, I pick anything
but
those two topics. Talk about god-awful. You must be conversation constipation at dinner parties.”

“Only if people try to peek at my emotional tighty-whities.” Gray gave the woman a polite thumbs-up as they drove away. He hoped she’d make it to lunch without throwing up. And doubted she’d last that long if they hit even one more winery.

“Come on. Spit it out,” Ward coaxed. “You’ll feel better. Then we’ll go paste some labels and not talk about anything while we sample a Bloody Mary mixer I’ve been testing.”

“It’d be easier to talk if I drank the Bloody Mary first.”

“Yeah, but its ten more minutes to get to the distillery.”

Stupid thirty-five-mile lake that took forever to get around. Too bad they weren’t in a boat. Or on a Jet Ski. Probably need a wet suit, too, with the water still so cold. And god, he was grasping at every mental straw possible to avoid answering Ward’s question. Pathetic.
Grab some sac and just say it
, Gray ordered himself.

“I want to quit my job.”

“So do it.”

Wiseass. “If it was that simple, do you think I’d be racing my demons along the roadside?”

“You can start over.” Ward slurped from his soda. “More than once, if it doesn’t work out.”

Gray appreciated Ward’s help. He also wanted to grab him by the collar and scream at him. Since nothing about this situation was Ward’s fault, he settled for saying, “It’s complicated.”

“Do they treat you like crap?”

The whole promotion-for-a-falsified-report thing hadn’t sat well with him. Being hidden away from the Board for the sake of sharing nothing more than some DNA felt even worse. R&M had turned their back on him. And now that Martin had uncorked his true disgust for Gray, it was all too easy to assume there were darker days ahead. Given more time, would he manufacture a reason to fire Gray? “Increasingly, yeah.”

“Do you hate it?”

Yes. No. Why were these seemingly simple questions such stumpers? “Parts of it.”

“Then push the eject button and get the hell out of there.” Ward shot him a sideways glower. “You know, wherever and whatever this mystery job of yours is. Special agent, special forces latrine cleaner, fucking glue factory assembly worker—just quit.”

Gray slid his hand up and down the seatbelt. From shoulder to hip and back up. He’d gone this far. Maybe, by some miracle, Ward could help him brainstorm a way out. If he knew the whole score. Well, not the
whole
score. Gray was in no rush to feel Ward’s fist inevitably connect with his jaw once he learned of Gray’s true purpose at Mayhew Manor.

“I support my mom. Have for years. This job pays well enough that it isn’t too big a stretch anymore. If I quit, start at the bottom again, the money will disappear. I won’t make my mother scrape by again. Not ever. No matter what I have to suck up.”

Ward grunted.

Gray waited.

“Look, I’m not good with family stuff. Not exactly a poster child for Sunday dinners and catch in the yard, if you know what I mean.”

The only place Gray’s father played catch was in the prison exercise yard. “Do I ever.”

“But I’ve got to figure that if your mom knew you were this unhappy, she’d be miserable. And then you’re both screwed up. So find a way out.”

This was Ward’s big solution to Gray’s problems? “It’s easy to tell someone to come up with a plan. Actually doing the rubbing of the brain cells together to create one’s a different matter.”

“Hey, I’d help. But that’d require some additional info. Like you admitting that you’re the guy who goes around checking to see if anyone ripped of that Do Not Remove tag on their pillows.” Ward paused. “Am I at least close with that guess?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Cause if that was your job, I’d really want to tear into you. There’s no reason for those stupid tags. Probably a government conspiracy.”

“You rip them all off, don’t you?”

“You gonna turn me in?”

Gray laughed. And for no discernible reason, felt better. Lighter. Still in an unwinnable situation. Still wanting a girl he couldn’t keep. But better.

Chapter Fifteen

Ella paced the length of the shop area of the spa. She started at the scrolling ironwork doors, walked a straight line past the candles, the reception desk, all the way to the racks of their signature fleece and satin spa bathrobes. And then back again. With every circuit, she mentally constructed an outfit for tonight’s date with Gray. With every return circuit, she rejected them. Too boring, too basic, too normal. That was the problem with not dating for three years. No just-sexy-enough clothes.

“You know we closed five minutes ago,” noted Brooke.

“Oh.” Ella twitched at her long white skirt. Looked down at her teal sneakers. Sneakers! Talk about the least sexy shoe in her closet. Even though she had about twenty pairs, none of them came close to screaming
won’t you please rip all my clothes off.
Which was really the look she was going for tonight. “Why are you still here?”

“Because it’s both fascinating and a little hypnotic watching you drive yourself crazy. That is what you’re doing, isn’t it? I don’t know what about, but you’re clearly going more than a bit mental. It looks like you’re patrolling the perimeter of a secret encampment.”

That stopped her in her tracks. Brooke’s vivid imagination often complicated her day. Every time she watched a horror movie, she’d keep a butcher knife in her purse the next day, “just to be on the safe side.” “Seriously? I can’t just be tense? In your mind, I have to be patrolling an encampment?”

“A
secret
one,” Brooke said with an earnest nod. “Isn’t that better than assuming my boss is cracking up?”

“How about none of the above?” Ella dropped onto a stool and wheeled herself around behind the desk.

“Well, when I’m the one wearing grooves into the floor, you can make up the story.”

“There’s no story. I’m...distracted. That’s all. Nervous. No, not nervous.” She bit her lip. “Filled with anticipation. Eager. Okay, a little nervous.”

“Whoa.” Brooke held up her hand, palm out. A silver bracelet with a big chunk of quartz slipped down her arm. “What is going on with you?”

“I’ve got a date with Gray tonight. I think.” She didn’t mind telling Brooke. As long as Brooke didn’t reach for her phone and text everyone she knew with the news. In addition to weaning the town from their expectation that she’d seek help for everything from them, Ella’s dating life was now officially off the table as a discussion topic. Boundaries—with cement guards—had been drawn. It felt...good. Made her feel strong. Independent. And satisfied.

“Another one? Great.” The inner tips of Brooke’s eyebrows drew together. “Wait. Why are you unclear on this?”

She was trying really, really hard not to focus on this neon warning sign. Mulling her wardrobe helped for a while. But talking about it would rip off the bandage she’d placed over this raw gash of insecurity. “He stood me up for yoga this morning.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Ella, I skip yoga with you more often than I ever show up. You’re really good. Super bendy and calm. That’s intimidating to everyone in the class. I’m amazed you ever got him to do it with you at all.”

“No, this wasn’t the class you and I take in the gym here. It was private. An, um, stretching date. We’ve done it for a few days now.” Gray hadn’t just been a good sport. He’d really applied himself, worked on his tantric breathing. “So since he stood me up this morning, shouldn’t I be worried if he’ll show tonight?”

Brooke bit her lip, considering. “No. I mean, yes, a little bit, but mostly no. He’s on vacation. Nobody sticks to their workout routine on vacation. Not even if it involves staring at the spandexed ass of a pretty woman on a mat for an hour. Put it out of your mind.”

Yeah. She’d tried convincing herself of the same thing. Which brought Ella to her current manic state. “If I do that, I’ll start pacing again. Trying to figure out what to wear. Nothing I’ve got is right any more.”

“Why don’t you call Piper or Casey? I’m sure they’d loan you something.”

She toed the stool back and forth. “I don’t want help.”

“Ella, this is what women do. They get together before dates and pull all their clothes out of the closet and giggle together. You know this.”

“Not this time. I have to do this on my own. I have to prove to Gray, to myself, to everybody, that I can do it on my own.”

“Honey, you’ve been getting dressed on your own for years. Because if you’d ever asked for help, I would’ve told you to torch all your sneakers.” Brooke wiggled her foot in its easily four-inch red platform wedge. “Fashion should always trump comfort.”

“Says the woman who sits at a desk all day, while I stand over a massage table for hours on end.” Ella shook her head. “I want everything to do with Gray to be my choice, and mine alone. It’s got to be completely up to me.”

Brooke threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh. “Okay. I get it. But can I at least offer to drive to the mall in Corning with you and go shopping sometime soon?”

It shouldn’t matter. Gray would be gone in a matter of days. And Ella hadn’t come up with a single way to convince him to stay. To convince him to turn his back on friends and a lifestyle and a career for something utterly new, untested and uncertain. So maybe she did need to start looking toward the future. Toward whatever incredibly awesome and funny and sweet and charming and hot man she’d date next. Even though the chances of another complete package like that walking in the doors of the Manor were so slim, they could only be expressed in negative integers.

Brooke was just being a good friend. So Ella dug deep to produce a jaunty smile. “Sure. Shopping sounds great. Put it on the calendar.”

“Great. Candle check?” Brooke asked as she shouldered her immense bag. At the end of every day, they double-checked all the rooms to be sure the candles were snuffed. Sometimes triple-checked, just to be safe. And with the web of distraction snared around Ella’s brain this afternoon, it was a wise precaution.

“I’ll take care of it. You head out.”

With a wave, Ella headed down the hall. Back into the treatment room where she’d seen her last client. The room which, although she’d changed the sheets, was still lit by the flickering glow of a dozen candles. Nor had she bothered to put away the scented oils or turn off the music. Geez, where was her head? She paused, hands white-knuckling the edge of the small sink. No hiding from the answer. Every single one of Ella’s brain cells had been fixated on Gray. His body. His rumbling, baritone laugh. The way he never looked at her with pity. The way he wouldn’t let her see herself as anything less than whole and beautiful.

“I see you started the party without me.”

She whirled around as the door snicked shut behind Gray. “No. More like I didn’t clean up at the end of my work day.”

A smile teased up the corners of his mouth. “That doesn’t sound nearly as sexy.”

“How’d you get in?”

“Brooke let me in, then locked up as she left.”

Figured she’d do what little she could to play matchmaker. Brooke had offered no less than an even dozen times in as many months to set Ella up with an online dating profile. She’d never met a hot man she didn’t want to either date or pair off with a girlfriend. “What are you doing here?”

“We have a date.”

“Do we? I mean, do we still?” Uncertain, only certain that she was ill at ease, Ella moved to put the wide massage table between them. As a barrier or a shield, she wasn’t sure which.

The smile fell off his face with the speed of a cannonball dropped from the top of a skyscraper. “Because I skipped yoga with you this morning.”

Ella of two years ago, or even two months ago, would’ve waved off his comment. Would’ve stepped back from the confrontation. Wouldn’t have mustered the energy to push back. But that version of Ella was gone. Banished for good with, ironically, Gray’s help. So she stood her ground. “Well, yes. You didn’t so much skip yoga as you stood me up. I know men have different pre-date rituals from women, but let me clue you in. That was rude.”

“I know. Thoughtless and rude and unintentionally hurtful. Which is actually why I came by now. I wanted to apologize. To clear the air so that we could put it behind us before our date.”

She crossed her arms. Suddenly quite sure she’d enjoy the groveling about to ensue. “Go ahead.”

Gray cocked his head. “But I just...no, you’re right. I need to apologize, not just state my intent.” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “The thing is, I...I uh, got a call from work.”

“In the middle of your vacation?”

That set off his pacing. From the deep shower stall with sixteen individual heads to the deep soaking tub, then across in a diagonal to the door. The space was large for a treatment room, but small enough for a man of Gray’s size to resemble a caged jaguar.

“My work...it’s complicated. Anyway, it was bad news. Put me in a foul mood. Not the
let’s talk about it and things will work out
kind of mood.”

“A dark, brooding mood?” she guessed.

“Exactly. I didn’t want to shake my shit off onto you. So I took off. Went for a run. Figured I’d sweat it out. Then I’d missed yoga, and I knew you were with clients for the rest of the day. Made sure to swing back as soon as you closed for the day so I could apologize.”

“Still waiting for that to happen, actually.”

“I know. Look, I don’t want to make an excuse. I just wanted you to know how it came about. But it was a poor choice. To not even let you know. I’m sorry. It was stupid. I let my temper run away with me. Literally.”

The shock of messy hair hanging over his forehead, the hangdog expression, combined with the hint of a grin was all it took. “You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you.” Gray moved closer, till his thighs butted up against the table. Looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite nail down in the shadows.

Suddenly nervous, Ella pointed at the door. “Now go away. I’ve got to finish up here and then go primp. Our date doesn’t officially start for another hour.”

His grin widened. “Says who?”

“Well, ah, we did. Dinner at seven. I made the reservation in the main dining room.” And she’d be ready at seven. Right now, Ella was far from ready. No spritzes of her favorite perfume. No artfully tousled waves in her hair. Most of all, no time to quell her ridiculous fears as to whether or not she’d be good enough for Gray. No chance to remind herself that although it had been three long years since her last horizontal date, sex was like a bicycle. You just hopped on and screamed your head off during the ride.

Gray reached across to trail a finger down her arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “I’m not hungry.” His hand closed around hers. Instinct curled Ella’s fingers tight. But then she wondered—for a brief flash—if sheer instinct would be enough to make Gray happy. Which wouldn’t even have popped into her brain if she’d had the next hour to indulge in a pep talk with the mirror. Instead, Ella tried to deflect. To get back that hour of prep time she so desperately needed.

“Joel’s making us his famous Gruyère soufflé.”

“I’m sure some other lucky customer will take it.” It didn’t even take much of a stretch as he lifted one knee, then the other onto the massage table. More of a smooth movement, like that damned jaguar she’d just compared him to. Except this time he resembled the sleek cat in hunting mode, about to pounce on its prey. With his other hand, he used his knuckles to stroke from her cheekbone straight down the side of her neck.

“Gray, what are you doing?”

“Living in the moment.” His voice had dropped to a husky growl. One that resonated through Ella once he used the hand at her neck to pull her closer and put his mouth at her ear. “And this moment’s got candles, a convenient bed, mood music and a sexy woman. You do the math.”

“I suck at math.”

“I don’t.” Gray nipped at her earlobe, then kept right on going, his mouth following the path his knuckles had just traced as a shudder ran through her.

“Are we really doing this? Now, I mean?”

The question stilled his movement. Gray eased back until their joined hands were the only parts touching. “Depends on who you’re asking, I guess. Me? All I do is think about making love to you. I want to do it now. I’ll want to do it in two hours if you want to wait until after Joel’s famous soufflé. As far as I can tell, there won’t ever be a time when the thought of being inside you does less than turn my dick to pure steel.” He let go and sat back on his heels. “The real question? The question I need to hear the answer to before touching one more inch of that satiny skin is, do
you
want to do this? Now, I mean?”

Laughter burbled out. All this time, all their talks, all the kisses, and he’d still managed to bring it back around and give her the choice. Give her the upper hand when it counted the most. And that relaxed her more than a double shot of Ward’s best blueberry vodka. “So you’re saying it’s all up to me? Again?”

“Exactly.”

This man wasn’t just special. Gray was one in a million. How stupid would it be to throw away a single second of happiness with him? Flying high on the joy of making the decision by herself, for herself, Ella’s fears vanished.

“I do want to do this. I want to do you,” she said boldly. “Right here, right now.”

“As you wish.” Gray gave a flourishy imitation of a bow. If he’d been dressed as one of the Musketeers—or at least had a feather-plumed hat in his hand—it would’ve been impressive. Now it just looked like he was trying to crack his wrist. Oh, and it made her giggle. He vaulted off the table. Then glared at her. “You dare laugh at my courtly gesture?” Now he’d added on a really bad British accent. Along with his deep frown, it only made Ella giggle harder.

A split second later, it hit her. Gray was making her laugh on purpose. He’d noticed her nervousness from before and was trying to lighten the mood. Trying to put her at ease. Half-assed bows aside, he sure looked like a prince among men to her.

“Let’s just say it doesn’t translate well without a cloak and about a dozen courtiers behind you.” She eased around the table, neither wanting nor needing space between them anymore. “How about I make a gesture of my own to kick things off?”