by Hayleigh Sol
My eyebrows raised in question.
“Everyone asks me why I don’t have a chef’s kitchen.” I smiled, nodding an acknowledgment that he’d guessed correctly. “I’d like to, someday. The truth is, I’ve been here for years and it’s super convenient to Bite Me and to my second restaurant near the Presidio.”
My own place on the outskirts of Menlo Park wasn’t quite as nice as his but I liked the proximity to my boutique in San Jose and I could still come to San Francisco if I felt like making the trek. I, too, had been there for years.
Stepping close to a framed photo on the wall, I saw Tracie and Garrett posing on the deck of a sailboat. He saw what had caught my attention and walked over.
“I also like how close I am to the marina in case I get a chance to head out on the water.”
“You sail?” That explained the multihued surfer–dude blonde hair.
“Trace and I both do, yeah. Since we were kids, with our dad. Mom came along most of the time. But Dad was the one who taught us.”
Near the main window, and on a table by the sofa, were bowls filled with shells and beach glass. They weren’t arranged with any particular order but it was clear that Garrett was a beach bum. Just not in the way I’d first suspected.
“Can I get you a drink? I think I have some wine in the back of the fridge.”
“I’m good, thanks.” Starting the week out after drinks on a Sunday night was something I tried to avoid. The day I’d turned thirty, it was like someone had flipped a switch and I just didn’t bounce back from a night of imbibing like I had in my twenties. Most of my friends had experienced a similar phenomenon. All except Emma, who, as an athlete always in training, and an Asian cursed with alcohol–induced flushing, rarely ever indulged. Simone, who’d only recently turned thirty, hadn’t believed the rest of us. Until it had happened to her.
“How about some water?” That sometimes–nervous side of Garrett I caught from time to time was back. Now that he had me here, he didn’t seem to know what to do with me.
Part of me appreciated that he hadn’t mauled me as soon as the door had closed behind us. The other part of me wished he’d hurry up and maul me already.
Except…I was a little nervous too. It had been, well, a lot of months since I’d clicked enough with a guy to go to bed with him. That, in and of itself, was sufficient to put a little pressure on me. Would dust and cobwebs come flying out from underneath my skirt when he made a move?
If he ever made a move.
Mostly, though, I was nervous because I liked Garrett for more than his good looks, his hot body, those let–me–swim–inside–them eyes. If I hadn’t been so attracted to him, I’d have wanted to be his friend. Like, long term friend. That wasn’t a great way to start a casual, possibly one–night–only fling.
And then, before I could overthink it, he was setting the two water glasses he’d brought down on the end table near where I’d been standing. We moved toward each other, that magnetic pull I’d felt when our hands had brushed walking in the park bringing us together again. Way too close for just friends.
My head tilted up and our eyes locked. His hand reached for my waist, pulling me a breath closer. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“I bet you say that to all the ladies.”
His expression was so serious as he slowly shook his head that the teasing smile dropped off my mouth. “I really don’t. These eyes. They grabbed me at that coffee shop and, even when you were accusing me of being a cheating scumbag”—we both smiled a little at the memory—“I had to force myself not to be distracted by them.”
“Yeah? Well back at ya, glacier–blue.” Not my most eloquent but Garrett seemed to like it.
He smiled and placed his other hand on my waist, pulling me close enough that our chests and hips bumped. I was moments from putting my own hands on the back of his neck and yanking those juicy lips down to mine. He beat me to it.
There hadn’t been many kisses in my history that eclipsed my expectations, nor had there been many that ripped a desperate moan from me in the first ten seconds. Garrett’s managed both.
We made out standing up, then he stumble–walked us over to his couch—stumbling because he refused to unfuse his lips from mine; no complaints here—and I sank onto his lap and fulfilled the fantasy I’d had when we met. My fingers tugged at his hair restlessly while his kneaded my hips. When we came up for air, we both had swollen lips, but that only turned me on more and I attacked him again.
I couldn’t say who suggested we move to his bedroom. Maybe neither of us had said the words, but we’d instinctively moved that way in sync. The way we kissed and touched and undressed each other felt like we’d been here a thousand times before, yet with the thrilling tension, the exquisite torture of first discoveries.
It must’ve been hours later—the sky had moved from sunset to dusk to blackest of night in the time we’d been deliciously occupied—when we both had to admit utter exhaustion.
“You’ll stay, won’t you?” Garrett faced me with his head on a pillow, eyes fighting to stay open and losing the battle rapidly.
“I really should go…” Staying after a hookup was rare for me. Hey, if jamming after sex worked for dudes, it worked for ladies who were anti–commitment too.
“Nooo. Stay.” His voice was soft and little–boy sweet. Hard to resist. He reached an arm over my hip and wrapped it around my back, dragging me flush against him with a strength that was all man. “Stay,” he whispered.
It was late, I was tired, and it felt so nice here in his arms. With a sigh, I decided, what the hell.
And spent the night.
The end of September was fast approaching, which meant Tracie was just over sixty days away from W–Day. I didn’t know how she managed to stay so calm. Especially when her mother and Ashley had put their heads together, chittering like a couple of squirrels on crack, at the impromptu—but mandatory—dinner Tracie’s parents had invited the wedding party to last week.
A dinner that, as best man, Garrett had also been conscripted to attend. It was the first time I’d seen him since I’d spent the night at his place, though the morning–after, and the subsequent friendly–flirty texts, hadn’t been as awkward or strained as I’d envisioned with us still having to interact around wedding stuff.
Odd that.
Even more strange was that he hadn’t hinted at a repeat performance. If the sex hadn’t been so Earth–moving—or if we hadn’t raced our way through another round the following morning before work—I might’ve worried he hadn’t been all that impressed.
Nonsense. I knew he’d had just as good a time as I had.
The only reasonable explanation I could come up with was that he was getting his kicks somewhere else. Which should be a relief. Evidently, he was totally fine with a one–off before we went right back to our best man, maid of honor roles. Without any discussion or ground rules or even an attempt to talk me into getting naked with him again.
So, no. I wasn’t relieved. I was baffled. And frustrated. And I didn’t like it one bit, dammit.
Worse still, I think he knew I was worked up. Across the dinner table—because, naturally, his mother had seated us across from each other—he kept giving me these looks. The kind that say, “I’ve seen you without any clothes on and I’m picturing you that way right now” or, possibly, “I’ve been inside you and I bet you’re imagining that right now.”
Sadly, he would’ve been correct about that last one. I squeezed my legs together and silently commanded my body to behave.
“Will that work for you, Bailey?”
“I’m sorry, what?” And the jerk across the table smirked at me again.
Tracie’s eyes darted between us and now she was smiling knowingly at me.
Super, the entire family thi
nks I’m fodder for their amusement.
“I was just asking if you could meet Ashley and me to check out dresses for you two this weekend.”
A gleam that could only be described as wicked entered Garrett’s eyes. “Since Bailey’s the fashion guru, maybe she should help Kev and me with our tuxes, huh?”
“Oh, I’m sure—”
“That’s a great idea, sweetie,” their mom interrupted my objection. “You’ve filled out so much since the last time you wore yours, it probably doesn’t even fit you anymore. All those muscles.” She reached out a hand and squeezed his bicep.
Fantastic. Now I was thinking about all his muscles. And how he’d fill out a tailored tux, the catnip of women the world over.
Kevin was Noah’s other groomsman, a quiet guy I’d met so briefly at the engagement party, I’d forgotten what he looked like until he showed up here for dinner. In fairness, though, I’d been pretty distracted that night trying to prove, then break the news gently to Tracie, that the groom was a big fat cheater. And then I’d banished myself to the party’s fringes and my berry mojitos when it had turned out that I’d been so very wrong.
“Speaking of meeting up”—Garrett drew my attention unerringly back to him—“don’t the maid of honor and best man need to get together at some point and plan the joint bachelor–bachelorette party?”
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at him. He’d said it so innocently, maybe too innocently.
“Oh, sweetheart, I forgot to tell you.” Noah, who’d moved his chair closer to Tracie’s so he could hold her hand or rub her leg under the table or whatever the hell he’d been doing that kept making her giggle through dinner, suddenly sat back in his chair. “My parents are friends with this couple—have been for years actually—and they’ve offered us their place in Martha’s Vineyard for that weekend. It has something crazy like, I don’t know, ten bedrooms. Big enough for the six of us. And, get this, my dad said he’d let us use the company’s private jet timeshare.”
My jaw dropped. As did Tracie’s. “Holy shit—”
“Tracie. At the dinner table, really?”
“Sorry, Mom. But, holy shit, babe. Seriously? I wonder if it’ll be too late for the fall foliage.”
Noah grinned and kissed her cheek. “Already checked. The best time for all that fall stuff you love?” I could see Tracie holding her breath. It was adorable. “End of October, baby.” She clapped her hands like an excited kid. “They’ve got apple picking and cider and you and Garrett can sail us around for the day, if you want.”
Tracie abandoned her seat for his lap and smothered his cheeks with kisses. Apparently, we were going to Massachusetts for Halloween. If I didn’t have to pay for airfare and lodgings, it sounded pretty awesome to me. I’d never seen the fall leaves on the east coast but, from pictures, it looked like they beat the pants off of California’s version.
“Right then. It sounds like Bailey and I definitely need to put our heads together and make some plans for this destination Halloween bachelor–bachelorette revelry.” Garrett looked like he’d won some kind of victory, like he’d just checkmated me.
Well played, sir. Just wish I understood the rules of the game we were playing.
Chapter 11
If you give a mouse a cookie…
The children’s book of the same title had been one of my favorites growing up, though I hadn’t realized at the time that my mother and, to a lesser extent, my father, had been using it to program me. Was there any kind of psychological warfare more subtle than a parent’s?
Especially when we were still young and impressionable enough to worship our parents, putting more stock in their opinions of us and the world than they probably deserved.
Thematically, the tale of a mouse who’s never satisfied, wanting first a glass of milk to go with his cookie, then a straw, and so on, seems to be one of cause and effect, on the surface. My father used to read me the story with that message. Plus his own bonus insight; he highlighted the mouse’s greed in always wanting more and never being content with what he already had. He was teaching me to be grateful for my many blessings.
That was rich, coming from him. Not that I had the divination skills to realize it at the time.
Dear old Mom had a different take. She’d used the story as an illustration of why mice—and little girls—shouldn’t be eating cookies. Because then they’d want milk, or another cookie, or another five cookies. And little girls had to be very careful about eating too many cookies.
Was it any wonder I’d later developed an unhealthy relationship with food? Or that I’d learned to accept my circumstances without wanting or expecting more from the people who claimed to love me?
I’d found my inner strength years ago, though, and had spent plenty of time analyzing the hows, whos, and whys of my past misguided ideas. When some of the people I’d trusted most in this world—aside from my best friends—had knocked me off course, I’d dragged myself back to who I was always meant to be. And put plenty of protective safeguards in place so it couldn’t happen again.
Which was why, as I found myself in that mouse’s overalls, thinking and fantasizing—on a near daily basis—about just one more hot night with Garrett, I gave myself the kind of stern talking to that would’ve made any hungry mouse straighten up.
It was more than fine to reach for what you wanted in life, even a tasty snack or two, but not when you had to ask or rely on someone else to get it for you. Or give it to you, in this case.
As Garrett and I sat uncomfortably close in yet another crowded coffee shop on another gorgeously sunny day, this time near my own neighborhood closer to San Jose, I forcibly reminded myself of that internal rebuke. He wasn’t making it easy, smelling fresh and summery, his hair tousled in a way that brought back the morning–after image I carried of him, one I’d tried—and failed—to forget. Then, there was his easy smile and relaxed manner that always seemed to soften my edges, coaxing me to laugh along with him.
“Tracie mentioned she’s working on an app for you, for your consulting business. That’s great, she’s the best.”
“She is, yeah, but it’s actually a team of website and app designers she assigned me. Which she won’t let me compensate her for.”
“Of course she wouldn’t. You’re her friend.”
“It’s driving me nuts.”
His brow furrowed. “Oh. Are you not happy with the work?”
“No, no. It’s great. Exactly how I’d imagined it. Better, even. What’s driving me crazy is that she won’t let me pay her. Just keeps insisting it’s my maid–of–honor gift.”
A small smile on his face, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s my sis. You know she’s not just leaving it to her team, either, right?” At my look of confusion, he nodded again. “She oversees everything her people produce—that’s the perfectionism our parents instilled in us—and I’m positive she’ll be even more involved if the project is for a good friend.”
“Aw, hell. That makes me feel even guiltier.”
Especially since Noah had texted me out of the blue a few days before offering a marketing team from one branch of his empire to help when the app and website launched. He’d made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but I knew it was and I was baffled by his kindness. It forced me to evaluate whether Noah might be the decent human being Tracie and Garrett claimed he was. He’d even mentioned getting some of his connections in the fashion industry to publicize the launch. It was all too much for me to wrap my brain around.
Garrett’s hand rubbed my forearm and I ignored the warmth that radiated from that point of contact to my chest. “You know, as business owners themselves, Trace and Noah are happy to help you take your company where you want it to go. And, from what I hear, you’ve been helping out so much with the wedding stuff already, I know they’re grateful.”
I shook my head in denial. “T
hat’s all Ashley.”
“Nope, Tracie told me how you handled Ashley over the near–catastrophe with the bridesmaid dresses”—true, that situation had been fraught—“and how gracefully you talked Noah’s mom out of hosting the bridal shower–slash–sex–toy party she wanted to host.” He was grinning widely over the idea.
I had to laugh, too. “Yeah, Tracie begged me to step in on that one. She didn’t want to discuss the finer points of vibrators and furry handcuffs with her future mother–in–law.”
Garrett nearly snort–laughed, shaking his head, then groaning. “Jesus, don’t mention my sister, vibrators, and handcuffs in the same sentence. I may have to beat up my best friend.”
“How long have you and Noah been friends?” I wondered if I’d get the rest of the story I’d sensed back in his restaurant. The night we’d gotten naked.
His smile faded. “Uh, well, I was really good friends with this other guy, Jesse, for a long time. Since we were kids, actually. But he, um…”
Oh God, had he died?
Garrett huffed out a breath. “I was engaged once and she broke it off to be with Jesse. They’d been screwing around for months behind my back and then they realized they were “in love” so that was that. Noah was there for me in the aftermath.” It came out of him in such a rush, I needed a second to catch up. I definitely hadn’t been expecting that.
“Wow, I’m so sorry Garrett. That sucks.”
He shrugged. What’re ya gonna do? “It did suck at the time, but that relationship was never really right. Obviously.” He chuckled ruefully. “We were young—twenty–four when I proposed—and I think I was just trying to do what I thought I was supposed to. You know, settle down, start a family, all that.”
I knew better than he realized. “So you’ve been single ever since? No other serious, long–term relationships?”
Shit, why had I asked that? It sounded like I was being a typical chick, fishing to see if he was ready to commit or something. I certainly didn’t want that. From him or anyone.