This had been the week from hell. I had taken my last exam yesterday and was on my way out to the DC for signatures on the contract. When I walked in, all I could think about was getting the paperwork signed to get Jack off my back. Brett and Dan had selected me for the job several days ago, but we had been ironing out the final details since then, and Jack wanted the ink on the dotted line sooner rather than later. This was a fairly large account, and he acted like without a signature, I might somehow lose it. I was all business until I hit the distribution center floor. He was standing right there. So right there that I walked straight into his chest. He braced me to prevent me from falling.
"Oh my God, Gray, I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." This guy's presence made me sound like a bumbling idiot. Crap, crap, crap. I couldn't be this close to him. I realized I was lingering entirely too long and pulled away. Without another word, I headed back to meet Brett and Dan.
I came prepared, but these two guys threw me off kilter-both signed the paperwork and wanted to move straight into action. They assumed once the ink dried, I would start to work, which would have been fine if my team were here, but we hadn't planned to begin implementation until Monday.
I had no other plans, and sleep was overrated.
It was after seven when I finally wound down, and both Brett and Dan left earlier. I closed my laptop and gathered the forms to take to the office when a horn honked outside the door on the distribution center floor and caught my attention. The forklift startled me-I hadn't realized anyone other than the cleaning crew remained in the building. They shut down at seven, so all the hourly workers should have been gone by now. With my stuff in hand, I walked out to see Gray coming toward me.
"Hey, I came to lock up the offices before I left. I didn't know you were still here."
"Sorry. I'm leaving. I had no intention of being here this late, but the suits kept me busy," I added in jest, unsuccessfully trying to disguise the irritation in my voice.
He locked the door behind me, and then side by side, we walked down the long aisles in the DC to the receiving docks and left the forklift at the back of the building. The silence between us was awkward; there was no other noise inside the building than the sound of our footsteps on the cement floor. When we arrived at the door out to the parking lot, he stopped and reached for me. I turned and looked at his hand on my arm and then him, waiting. Gray returned my gaze, and every coherent thought flew out of my head. Damn, he was tall, at least seven or eight inches taller than I was. But those eyes...big and childlike, with something in them that made me want to reach out to him.
"Do you have any plans?" he blurted out. Usually full of confidence, tonight he seemed unsure of himself. It was charming. I liked knowing I knocked him off his game as much as he knocked me off mine.
"Um...well, sleep was on the agenda hours ago. So no, not really."
"I've got to clock out, but do you want to get a bite to eat?" he asked with a level of uncertainty, as though he assumed I'd refuse.
I expected to say no, but instead, I heard myself respond, "Yeah, sure. Why not?" I silently chastised my inner moron, wondering who the hell had answered that question.
"Really? Great. Wait here. I'll be right back."
It occurred to me I could be out the door, pulling out of the parking lot before he returned, but instead, I stood there, stone still.
His footsteps jogging across the hard floor signaled his return before I saw him. "What are you in the mood for?" he asked.
"A burger, I guess."
"It's not fancy, but Applebee's is down the street. Want to go there?"
I had no idea what he was thinking and didn't imagine any woman ever told him no. I would have followed him to the end of the earth, even if I knew he'd push me over the edge once we got there. Like I cared where we ate.
I couldn't figure out what it was that had me so enamored. He was incredibly good looking, but I didn't know him, and he certainly shouldn't affect me, not the way he did anyhow. Maybe it was simply that he was the first guy I'd bothered to notice since Will, or that he seemed to want to spend time with me. Whatever it was, this would end horribly. It was like a bad car accident-you shouldn't watch, but you can't tear yourself away and actually end up slowing down to catch the details.
"My truck's over there. Why don't you put your stuff in your car, and we can ride together? I'll bring you back after we eat."
I must have agreed.
He headed toward his vehicle while I unlocked my car to throw my bag inside. Once he drove around to pick me up, I had to use the handles to pull myself into the cab. It was a badass truck that sat a tad higher than normal and had big tires. From the outside, I could tell a man owned it-it was rugged and meaty looking. But once inside, the plush leather interior with woodgrain on the dash surprised me. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I buckled my seatbelt.
I winced as my toes pinched in the shoes I'd had on all day.
Gray's head turned toward me when he heard it. "Are you okay?"
"I know it's out of the way, but would you mind swinging by my apartment so I can change? These heels are killing me."
"Sure, you live over by the mall, right?"
My brow furrowed in confusion. "How do you know where I live?" I was a bit concerned and wondered if I should be in a confined space with him.
"I haven't been stalking you." His nervous laughter did nothing to set my mind at ease. "Lynn told me you lived in those new apartments off Blaree Road when I asked about you. Don't be upset with her. She didn't tell me much."
He grinned and veered toward town. When he turned on the radio, Tim McGraw's "Humble and Kind" filled the air with Gray accompanying the sexy country artist. At this point, there was no turning back. I was in deep trouble with a man I knew nothing about-staring at him, in awe as if he was a rock god, listening to him sing. He glanced over, and my heart ceased mid-beat. It wasn't possible to love something you knew nothing about, but my heart was trying to convince me that was a savage lie. Rationally, I knew it wasn't love-rather some odd form of fairytale lust that Cinderella hadn't warned us about.
"Do you not like country music? Come to think of it, you don't look like a country music kind of girl. I can change it." He reached toward the CD player, but I stopped him. Saying nothing, he took my hand, wound his fingers through mine, and placed them on his knee.
"I love Tim McGraw. Please, leave it."
"There's no way a girl like you listens to music like this."
"I do. And what do you mean, a girl like me?"
"You know, a high-class college girl," he responded as though he was telling me the sky was blue or the grass was green. Casual and matter of fact-confused by why I didn't see something he perceived to be so obvious.
"I'm not sure if I should be offended or take that as a compliment. But I can assure you, I was raised on country music. Neil Diamond, The Oakridge Boys, Alabama. You name it, my dad played it. I love the sound of a steel guitar and the look of a pair of well-worn Levi's."
He eyed me skeptically. "If I were to get in your car right now and turn on the radio, what CD would be playing?"
"Tim McGraw's self-titled." I gave him a wide grin, knowing it was the truth. I loved all Timmy's music, but his older stuff was by far my favorite. My loud laughter followed his look of disbelief.
"I'm going to call you out on that when we get back. I'm not buying it, and self-titled is an easy bet on guessing an album name." He didn't believe me, but he was wrong.
I was a longtime fan-a fan before he was a big name. The first time I ever saw Tim McGraw in concert, he opened for Little Texas at the Memorial Auditorium when I was sixteen. I fell as hard for Tim that day as I did for Gray today-and both made an equal amount of sense. My love affair with Gray was about as likely as one with Tim McGraw.
It was about a ten-minute drive to my apartment. Somehow, my mind managed to form complete thoughts for the first time since I had met Gray, allowing the conversation to flow with ease. He seemed to be a fairly easy-going guy-fun loving like he'd be the life of the party and able to get along with anyone. He was able to set me at ease in a short amount of time, which was no easy feat.
When he turned into the complex, I stayed silent and wondered just how much he actually knew. He slowed down as he pulled in. When he reached the fork in the drive, he asked, "Which way?"
I couldn't hide my giggle as it filled every word. "What, Lynn didn't tell you exactly where I live? You're losing your touch already, Gray."
His grin could have lit up the night.
"Turn right, first building on the left."
He snagged a parking place and then hopped out after I did before following me up two flights of stairs. "I should've guessed. Top floor. Penthouse kind of thing, right?" he said, like it was exactly where he thought I lived.
I was a little hurt by the comment and preconceived notion of who he believed I was. I didn't know why he assumed I was some high-class chick. I wasn't a snob, nor did I think I was better than anyone-quite the opposite really. I had worked hard to get where I was, and no one paid my freight...for anything. I'd always been independent outside of my relationship with Will and certainly since. My parents hadn't left me a lot of choice when they'd put so much distance been them and me. Their help would have come with conditions and strings I wasn't willing to accept, anyhow-they needed an element of control, like...where I lived, what I did, who I spent time with-it wasn't worth it. If I did it on my own, then I called the shots-and they lost control.
"Actually, I put in my rental application when they were building the complex. I was so far down on the list when they started renting, this was my only option by the time they reached my name," I responded as I opened the door. "But I love the vaulted ceilings and the fireplace. The workout coming up and down the stairs multiple times a day is a bonus." I winked, trying to keep this light-hearted as I let us both inside.
I didn't want him to assume I was who he thought I was. I wanted him to see me, but I wasn't sure he could get past the image he'd already established in his mind. What I couldn't figure out was where it had come from.
"Have a seat." I pointed to the dark leather couch in my living room. "I'll only be a minute. Let me throw on some jeans and a T-shirt." I got lost in him for a second before I realized I hadn't moved. Damn if I didn't want to pull him into my bedroom with me to feel his arms around my naked body, those lips pressed to my skin. I quickly turned on the ball of my foot toward my room. He chuckled under his breath like my nerves were humorous. If he knew how inexperienced I was, that it had been over two years since a man had touched me, he would laugh his tail off. That insecurity was exactly why I shouldn't be in this guy's presence.
Pushing that thought aside, I grabbed a pair of dark, fitted jeans that hugged my tush in all the right ways, making my legs look fantastic. Once I pulled a short-sleeved, Green Day shirt over my head, I grabbed my black Doc Martens. I didn't have a lot of style; I was fairly simple. I always chose comfort over fashion when I wasn't at work. My opinion was Docs went with everything-I loved them. In my bathroom, I pulled my dark hair into a ponytail. It was long and overly thick, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to cut it off, so I dealt with it the best I could. Silently wishing I knew how to apply makeup, I added a swipe of lip gloss. My sense of fashion was a bit more granola, earthy. Luckily, God had given me some natural shading on my eyelids and color in my cheeks, so the gloss was all I needed. With one final glance in the mirror, I sighed. The guy sitting on my couch was full-on gorgeous, while I was...cute. I hated feeling inferior and having my confidence shaken-the only time it ever happened was with men.
When I stepped back into the living room, he stood and whistled through his teeth. "Wow!"
I smiled and grabbed my purse. Glancing over my shoulder, I said, "You ready?"
He took my wrist, pulling me to him. We were so close the warmth of his breath brought a hint of peppermint. My breasts brushed against him, instantly arousing me through my shirt and bra.
He released his grasp on me, curled one hand around my neck, and the other on my cheek. I hadn't moved-my eyes fixed solely on his. With an exaggerated breath, my chest heaved in anticipation when his head bent down, narrowing the gap between us, his eyes slowly closing. My lids lowered as well, mirroring his naturally in response. And then his lips touched mine. They were lush and soft, but it was the electricity I felt the moment we met that sent heat straight to my girly bits.
Gray parted his lips, and his tongue gently brushed against my mouth and encouraged me to open for him. It wasn't hurried; it was a slow, gentle kiss. Sensual. Our tongues found each other-the feel of him in my mouth sent electric-like impulses throughout my body. The dance was intoxicating, give and take, back and forth-so full of emotion. I wasn't sure what it was saying, but part of me was ready to find out while another part of me screamed in fear.
He gently pulled away, but only enough to break the kiss, lightly pecking my mouth, and tugging slightly on my bottom lip with his teeth. In a surprisingly intimate gesture, he leaned his forehead to mine and watched me-taking me in as though he could read my thoughts and sense my emotions.
I realized how much I had missed a man's touch, how lonely I'd felt. The sparks that flowed between us ignited something I hadn't experienced in years and had fought against equally as long. I had tried to eliminate that need in my life by devoting myself to work and school, so what little feeling remained, I was able to numb with drugs. I hadn't wanted to risk letting anyone in again, didn't want them to get close. I refused to chance falling victim or destroying them in my failure. My relationship with Will had just about been my undoing, staying focused was key to not backsliding. But God how I yearned to stay in Gray's arms all night, preferably naked, in my bed, covered in sweat. To feel wanted again-loved. But I knew I couldn't. That wasn't my MO, and he was a client for God's sake. Well, maybe only by technicality, but I was pretty sure Jack wouldn't see it that way.
Laughing, he asked, "Are you coming?"
It was enough to snap me out of my dazed state, and my cheeks flushed in embarrassment. This guy was intoxicating. I couldn't help but feel like he'd shatter me, but I couldn't force myself to walk away. There was something that drew me in-I hoped it wasn't the same thing that kept me tied to Will. When he reached for the door, his sleeve rode up enough for that symbol to peek out, calling for my attention. "Hey, Gray, what does your tattoo really mean?"
He winked at me before answering, "Casanova."
Apparently, this was a game, and I doubted I would ever know the truth. Maybe it held some deep meaning he didn't want to share with me. I smirked and shook my head.
We went back the way we came, taking the road to the closest restaurant to the DC. I wasn't a big fan of Applebee's, but I also didn't insist on going to high-dollar restaurants to be wooed. The reality was, I preferred to pick up my own check, so I had no further obligation, and there was no confusion about my level of interest. But hell, I didn't know if this was a date or rather two people who "worked together" having a bite to eat. I wanted to think, after that kiss that had sent my world into orbit, that it was a date, but at the same time, I didn't want to date anyone-glaring contradiction.
Dinner flew by, and he engaged me in his life. He told me about his best friend, Topher, and his fiancée, a ditzy girl Gray seemed to think was sweet but not worthy of Topher's time. He was convinced they wouldn't make it but said he quit trying to talk Topher out of marrying her. Topher and Gray went way back. With the two of them being roommates, if Topher married this girl, Gray would have to find another place to live.
The mere mention of his mom and I could tell he loved her dearly. You could see it in his eyes when he talked about her-he was a mama's boy. He knew little about his dad, who had bailed on his mom during her pregnancy, but she made up for that in spades. She was young, and he had no interest in raising a child. I didn't want to ask if he'd ever been around, and he obviously wasn't keen on talking about him, so I let the subject go in favor of discussing work.
Then it was twenty questions. I asked him about music, what he liked to do, and how old he was. When he answered "twenty-six," I about choked on my drink and barely kept from spitting it across the table in his face.
"You're how old?" I was positive the look on my face was priceless because he had to stifle a laugh.
"Twenty-six. How old did you think I was?" Damn, that smile-and the laugh lines it brought to his eyes-was so engaging.
Stuttering, I responded, "I-I don't know, twenty-two, twenty-three maybe."
"Sorry, baby...twenty-six. I'll be twenty-seven in August." The way "baby" rolled off his tongue... It flowed from his lips as though he'd known me his entire life. As if he'd always cherished me, and it made my heart race and the butterflies in my stomach take flight.
I stared at him in disbelief. He had a young face; I would never have guessed he was six years older than I was. He would freak out when he found out I was only twenty.
"I know what you're thinking, but six years is not that big of an age difference." His face was totally unreadable.
"How do you know how old I am?" I started to wonder if he had done a background check on me. He knew where I worked, lived, my age. Then it dawned on me, and in unison, we said, "Lynn." Apparently, he had known there was a large age gap and hadn't cared, so I wondered if I should. Looking across the table at him, I decided no in the blink of an eye.
It was like he saw the struggle-the moment it cleared, he leaned back in the booth. "So what about you? What makes you tick?"
Talking about myself made me terribly uncomfortable. I couldn't tell people anything about my upbringing without them assuming I'd had a silver spoon in my mouth since birth, which was far from the truth. And recent years were just as much of a turnoff. So, I played the vague card, telling him the CliffsNotes version of my life.
He could tell I was checking items off a list to pacify him without giving him any real information. Then he asked, "So how'd you land your job? You're pretty young to be where you are."
My attempt to hide my frustration at the question was probably a total failure. He didn't know this was a sore subject, one everyone asked me about, and then never believed my answer. I had an overwhelming temptation to tell him what he expected to hear, which was one of two things: my daddy got me the job, or I slept with someone to get to the top. Instead, I kept it simple. "My dad introduced me to Jack at Walton's, but I had to land the job," I answered in a flat tone, hoping he'd drop it. I wasn't interested in discussing my employment nor my parents.
There was an innocence about me I guess most people didn't see. I had traveled a lot with my parents growing up, I had seen and experienced things that matured me, but when it came to relationships, I'd only had one, and it was wrong almost from the word go. I had realized once I got out of it how sexually naïve I truly was. That naiveté created an even greater chasm between the public and private version of me. It never occurred to me others would believe I had slept with men to kick-start my career since I'd never slept with men-just one, man.
There seemed to be more questions on the topic he wanted to ask, but wisely, he changed the subject. "Why are you single?" Something in the way his face softened told me he was honestly curious and wasn't asking me a question to be able to feed me a line.
I never knew how to answer that and typically fumbled through the response. I stirred the straw in my drink, watching the ice cubes move around, contemplating my reply before I opened my mouth. "I haven't dated in a couple of years." I met his stare hesitantly.
"Any particular reason? Or just school and work?" There was no accusation or presumption in his voice.
My teeth worried my bottom lip. "I got out of a bad relationship and needed time to focus on me."
His eyes glimmered with anticipation of a story. With his brow raised, he asked without saying a word.
I sighed heavily, conceding only to a surface-level admission. "I dated the same guy all through high school. Will Murphree. It was a rough relationship, and I barely survived the demise. It was better that I focused on me after we broke up."
"Did he hurt you?" Suddenly, Gray had shot up from his relaxed position in the booth, sitting erect.
"Not directly, I don't guess... Maybe." It was odd to see a man so protective of someone he didn't know when someone who'd claimed to love me had used me in some weird self-preservation.
"What does that mean? That's not much of an answer, Annie." While his tone was curt, I could see the emotion on his face, etched into his features-irritation born from concern.
"It means it was two years and countless hours of therapy ago." I winked at him in an attempt to calm the beast and lighten the mood.
"I hope at some point you'll trust me enough to confide in me." His words were sincere, but I'd be grateful if I never had to tell another soul.
The conversation went to school and a glimpse at my family, but I wouldn't divulge details on any part of my life. Everything I shared was superficial. It wasn't that I was trying to hide anything, I was just particular about who I gave information to, and some things never left the vault. The appearance of my life tended to overwhelm people. But it was just that-a tidy appearance. My apartment spoke volumes about how I lived, so did my job, my report card, and my overall personality. Everything had a place; nothing could be out of order-that was the control I took to keep the demons at bay. Control was an illusion but one I clung to. There could never be a speck of dust, and the lines on the carpet had to be straight. I had to be the perfect employee, the top producer. I refused to accept less than As at school and strived for perfection.
It was all part of the façade-the illusion of perfection-because if it looked flawless from the outside, no one would see the fucked-up mess on the inside. That mirage was a disguise to hide the turmoil and chaos rampant in my mind. It was just how I lived-since Will. Everything pristinely organized and well put together. My neurotic tendencies would drive even the most angelic man to drink. When Gray saw them for what they were, they would either add to my charm or send him running in the opposite direction-I'd bet money on the latter.
He paid the bill and glanced at his watch. We'd been sitting here for a couple of hours, and both of us needed to get going. He apologized for cutting things short, but he had to work in the morning. As much as I enjoyed hanging out with him, I was exhausted. I didn't want to see him leave...didn't want the night to end, but I knew I'd see him the next week, and for now, that would have to do.
He came to a stop next to my Celica and put an arm around the back of the seat. A question hung on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to ask me something, but hesitation lingered in the air. When he finally garnered the courage to invite me to go to a Pee Wee Football game his friend was coaching next Friday, he acted as though he had won the lottery when I agreed. An evening outside, with him, for a few hours in a no-pressure environment sounded appealing.
We exchanged phone numbers before I slid out of the seat and dropped down to the pavement beneath me. I turned back to him and smirked. "I believe we have a score to settle." He was clueless what I was talking about, so I crooked my finger, giving him a come-hither motion. The gleam in his eyes as he followed without hesitation made my heart swell. If the roles reversed, I'd follow him into a shark tank bleeding if that's where he led me. The pull he had with me was foreign and terrifying-I had no idea where it came from or how to deal with it.
Once in my car, I left the door open and my feet outside with him squatting between me and the door. He regarded me with a gentle tenderness, still confused by why he was at my car...until the engine started, and the music flooded the surrounding air. The moment the recognition hit his ears, I saw it on his face. "I Keep It Under My Hat" by Tim McGraw, off his self-titled album, played through the speakers. He hadn't believed me; he'd assumed I was full of crap. Gray leaned in, giving me a soft kiss and a laugh before he said goodbye.
Driving home, I thought about that kiss in my apartment. He had stared me right in the eyes as though he could see my soul. I couldn't describe the perfection caught up in that one moment; it was like I had never felt another man's lips before. With every swipe of his tongue, the fire inside me had grown. There was no doubt he felt it, too. I looked at him and realized I had only thought my world was complicated before this. I had just added a whole new dimension to the clutter in my life.
