The Careless Boyfriend

by Erika Kelly

  But, surprisingly, in the shrug of her shoulders, he didn’t read any interest. Or even guilt. “Took me a while, but I got it.” She looked right at him. “You were right. I wasn’t doing him any favors by cleaning up his messes.” Then, fiddling with the hem of her slouchy sweater, she said, “Where did you go? Did you even graduate?”

  “Of course.” In the dwindling twilight, a purple haze had settled over the towering spires of the mountain range. “They were used to us taking off for competitions. That part was easy.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it was.” She said it under her breath, but he heard her.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, I’m sure it was easy for you.”

  She was pissed at him? “I just accepted things before you did.”

  “Well, you had other people. Your dad, your uncle, your brothers. You had a huge support network. I had my mom and Robert.”

  It was like taking a trowel and scooping out whole pieces of his heart. He hated that she’d had no one but an unreliable drug addict.

  “When my mom told me about Robert’s visit, I couldn’t even live with myself. It was like I could feel him, you know? His shock, his hurt. The betrayal. Who did he have other than me? How could I have just abandoned him?”

  Incredibly, she wasn’t looking at him like she used to—like she wanted answers. A way to resolve complicated feelings. It was more recounting an old story. Dispassionate.

  “Especially since he’d finally gotten clean,” Gray said. “That was all you’d ever wanted from him. A chance to have a real relationship.”

  “Actually, what I figured out…finally, was that I wasn’t in love with Robert. I loved him, I certainly needed him. I thought…” Her finger circled the edge of her wine glass. “Well, I was afraid if I didn’t reward him for rehab, he’d go right back to using. But, not for a second did I think, Oh, thank God, we can finally be together.”

  That was interesting. Not in love? And she hadn’t wanted to get back with him?

  Leaning forward, she set her glass down and clasped her hands in her lap. “I was as messed up as he was.”

  Whoa—that right there—he’d waited a long damn time to hear that.

  “And the reason I didn’t talk to him after he got out is because I wanted to be free. I don’t regret it, not contacting him. It took a while to make peace with it, but I never missed him. As you once said, it wasn’t like he’d been a true friend in a very long time. I hope he’s clean and sober and living a good life, but that’s it.”

  Seven years ago, that comment would have been a prompt to get information out of him. Was it still? “You want to know if he’s clean, but I can’t answer that.”

  “You talked to Mrs. Granger. How could Robert not come up?”

  “Because I was there to talk about you.”

  “I know, but, come on. It’d be like the elephant in the room. You both had to be thinking about him.” She must’ve picked up his mounting frustration, because she broke into an embarrassed smile. “I guess I must feel a little guilty if I’m this worried about seeing his mom.”

  He snatched another slice of bread and popped it in his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “Or maybe you’re worried it’ll lead to seeing him.” And how would that feel? He looked down at the slate patio, his gaze landing on a scattering of bread crumps. “He came to my dad’s funeral.”

  Sitting up straighter, she reached for his arm. “I’m so sorry, Gray.”

  When it came to his dad, it was like a big tangled ball of emotion. But one thing he knew, for sure. He missed him every single day.

  Her fingers curled around his wrist. “That must’ve been the hardest thing for you.”

  It took a lot of will power not to slide his arm back just enough to align their fingers. He’d always wanted to hold her hand. Maybe it was the symbolism of it—the gesture of easy intimacy. I’m yours. You’re mine.

  But she wasn’t touching him because she couldn’t keep her hands off him. She was touching him because she felt bad about his loss. “It was.” The thing about losing his dad so unexpectedly was that he’d never had the chance to talk about the issues that bothered him. To ask the questions.

  To tell his dad he loved him.

  But he did have a fresh start with Knox, and that meant forging a new connection, one without the Robert Granger link. “Anyhow, we got the appointment, and we leave tomorrow.”

  “We? You can’t go with me. Fin will lose his mind.”

  “Yeah, well, in my world, they send us a few swatches, and then we put in an order. But Mrs. Granger said you’d want to see the fabric in person. So, it looks like I’ll be skipping a few days of training so you can touch it, roll around in it, and rub it all over your body. Wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

  She lunged for the plate, snatched a piece of bread, and lobbed it at him. “Freak. I’m not rolling around in three-thousand-dollar-a-yard Chantilly lace. Though, she’s right. I do need to touch it, but I can go by myself.”

  “You want to see Mrs. Granger on your own?”

  “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

  “Awesome. Then, I guess you’re on your own.” With a mischievous grin, he started to get up.

  “It’s not like I have a choice. Fin’s obviously worried about how much training you need to put in to catch up with the other competitors.”

  He broke into a full grin. “I think I can miss a few days and still hold my own.”

  “You sure about that? You’re looking a little slouchy. Might need to stay behind and work on your core.” She pinched the skin above her hip. “You don’t usually see muffin tops on Olympic athletes.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, and damn it felt good. “Look, as the CEO of your company—”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Did you just give yourself a promotion?”

  “It’s in my best interest to accompany you and check out this vendor, make sure he doesn’t take advantage of the pretty little fashion designer.”

  “If you’d like to watch a professional in action, so you can learn a thing or two for your sock business, you’re welcome to tag along.” She lobbed a piece of sausage at him, and he nabbed it out of the air. “Because everyone needs a ninja travel companion.”

  Chapter Eight

  A brisk wind plastered Knox’s Army jacket to her back. Maui—an ocean away from the harsh mountain winds of Wyoming—had spoiled her. And it’s only the middle of September.

  Crossing the tarmac, she shot a glance behind her to the Jetway. Still no Gray.

  That’s okay. She didn’t need him on this trip. Besides, he’d gone above and beyond to right Amelia’s wrongs and, most importantly, he needed to stay here and train.

  She could recite all the reasons he shouldn’t come, but none of them wiped away the disappointment of not getting to spend the next few days with him.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she retracted the handle and then lifted her carry-on. The cold from the metal steps shot right through the soles of her black leather boots.

  Didn’t take you long to fall right back into old patterns with him, though, did it? Gray, stepping in to fix her problems, making her feel like nothing mattered more than helping her out. Her, lapping it up like a rescued kitty, greedy for the attention.

  And completely forgetting how easily he’d walked away from her and never looked back.

  Stepping onto the plane, she set the suitcase down and pulled out the handle, waiting for the line of passengers to move forward. At least this time she understood him better. Hearing his conversation with his brothers had been eye-opening. Their lack of support for anything outside snow sports had given him an attitude of, why bother?

  Which meant, any day now, he could flip the switch and go chasing after the next shiny new thing.

  I mean, come on. He’s training for the Olympics, gets the call to go ride death-defying waves, and off he goes. If he doesn’t take his own career seriously—why would he stick around for min
e?

  It wasn’t like she needed him. She handled fabric vendors all the time. She’d done her research. Knew exactly how much material she’d need to buy for all her projects. Everything’s fine. Between the pop-up and the custom gowns, things were looking good.

  “Good morning.” The flight attendant reached for her boarding pass and scanned it.

  “Morning.” Knox rolled her suitcase down the narrow aisle. She didn’t have to go far. 2A. Gray had put her in first class. She’d have to talk to him about that. Then again, he’d figure it out on his own when he saw the price of lace and crystals. We’re not buying nylon.

  Shoving her carry-on into the overhead compartment, she slid into her seat, too aware of the empty one beside her. Well, if he wasn’t coming, she might as well take the window view. She shifted over and watched the baggage handlers toss suitcases into the belly of the plane. Setting her phone on her jeans-clad thigh, she checked the time. The flight left in twenty minutes. It was cutting it close, but he could still make it.

  Oh, stop it. He shouldn’t come. She swiped the screen, itching to tap out a message, but she wouldn’t do it. It would only make him feel guilty. Training had to be his priority.

  Then stop looking at the door. She closed her eyes, making a promise to herself to disengage. No good could come out of relying on Gray Bowie. Think about Delilah, instead, who thought her sensational figure wouldn’t work in a sexy gown. Show her how awesome she’ll look.

  Yes. She’d sketch, let the ideas flow until inspiration hit.

  Delilah seemed to be drawn to the ultra-romantic, almost ethereal look of sheer tulle overlaid with floral lace. A bodice like that didn’t have support, but Knox could fix that by making it a V-neck, adding some boning—

  “Hey.” Gray dropped a backpack and kicked it under the seat in front of him.

  God, that voice. It traveled through her, all growly and deep, like dirty talk whispered in her ear. “You made it.” She didn’t know why that had popped out when she’d been thinking, Thank God.

  He glanced behind him, stepping forward to allow a passenger by, and then reached for the bottom of his sweatshirt.

  Knox’s blood started to drag in anticipation of what was to come. Not even bothering to anchor his T-shirt, Gray yanked the hemline up and over his head. The shirt flew up with it, exposing the flattest stomach and most obscenely ripped abs of anyone she’d ever seen.

  He’d always had a good physique, but his high school body didn’t even compare with this powerhouse of a man. Flopping into his seat, he clipped his seatbelt. “You stole my window view.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” She gestured to the flight attendant. “Look, they’re closing the doors.”

  “Had a late night.”

  The Gray she’d known hadn’t partied. Which, of course, had enabled her to feel safe with him. Her mom was no addict, but she definitely liked her weed. She and her friends had a lot of “bake sales,” as her mom liked to call them. No one got out of hand, but the smell of pot, the look in the eyes of someone stoned, just…squicked her out.

  It was something she and Gray had had in common back then. Had he changed? He certainly wouldn’t party before a competition, but maybe he’d lightened up and indulged afterwards?

  Are you kidding me right now? He’d just won Titans, and instead of celebrating he’d gone right back to training with his brother. Of course he’d take the night to hang out with his friends.

  You’re doing it again. Getting all wrapped up in him. Cut it out. Reaching into her tote to pull out her sketchbook, she pretty much planted her face in his knee, which gave her a nice view of his muscular thigh.

  What would it be like to touch him? Run her hands over all that warm skin? An image flashed, her hands full of the hard globes of his ass, squeezing, as she drew him up against her.

  Desire burst, flooding her body and making her hot and achy. She’d never been with a guy that fit, and she hadn’t known just how attracted she’d be to all that masculine strength. She could picture him naked, hovering over her body. Sliding inside her, the forceful snap of his hips. Deep inside, she pulsed for that kind of hot, wet friction.

  Oh, please don’t do this. Not with Gray. He’s going out of his way for you.

  Don’t fall for him.

  She yanked the notebook out so quickly, other crap fell out, and she had to pat around on the carpeted floor to find her make-up bag, pens, and hair elastic. When she sank back in her seat, she forced herself to focus on the dress. It helped that she knew Delilah better now. She couldn’t wait to design something she would love.

  Her pencil started moving, creating a deep décoletté corset—the cups generous enough to actually cover and support her breasts—and a fairy skirt with three-D lace flowers and petals. Okay, not what she’d meant to draw, but boy, would that be stunning on her.

  Oh. Oh, wait. Wait. She turned the page, as an image formed in her mind. Princess cut, natural waist. Massive skirt with overlapping organza ruffles, tulle at the bottom. The whole thing overlaid in cascading flowers. Yes. Oh, my God. The neckline could echo those flowers—aligning with the off-the-shoulder sleeves.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” The flight attendant leaned across Gray to hand her a cocktail napkin.

  They’d already taken off? She glanced out the window. Wow, she’d gotten totally swept away. “Just water, please.”

  The flight attendant passed the water to her and then waited for Gray. But he seemed lost in thought. Knox elbowed him.

  He glanced up. “Oh, sorry. I’ll take a water, too.”

  “Not afraid of flying, are you?” the flight attendant asked with a grin.

  “Nah, just thinking big thoughts.”

  “Big thoughts, huh?” The flight attendant poured his water. “Well, our country sure could use them right now.”

  “Oh, I’m saving all of them for my friend here. She’s got a new business venture.”

  “Is that right? What kind of business?”

  “Fashion.”

  “Really?” The woman gave Knox an appraising glance. “I can tell. Nice shirt.”

  “Oh.” Self-consciously, she tugged on the material. “Thank you.”

  “She probably made it herself.” The pride in Gray’s voice made her feel warm and soft inside.

  “Really?” The flight attendant’s eyebrows shot up.

  Knox nodded.

  “Well, good luck.” She flashed them a big grin and moved on.

  “Do I get to hear all those big thoughts? I want to make sure I write them down before you move onto something else.” Oh, no. That hadn’t come out of her mouth, had it?

  Could you be more pathetic?

  She reached for his arm. “I’m sorry. That was meant to be a joke, and it came out completely passive-aggressive. I didn’t mean it like that.” Except she had, and that made her a selfish jerk.

  His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Smirking at the screen, he tapped out a response.

  It struck her how little she knew about his life. She’d only seen one tiny little patch of it. She waited until he shut down his phone and shoved it back into his pocket before saying, “Girlfriend?”

  “What?” His tone made it sound like she’d asked if he’d eat a beetle. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  She laughed because he sounded so affronted. “You were smiling like you two were playing footsy.”

  “I was smiling because Mrs. Granger told me to behave myself with her vendor. She said I’m exactly his son’s type and not to flirt too much because it’ll break his heart, and then she’ll have a hard time ordering from him again.”

  “You guys text each other?”

  He leaned in close, like she was slow-witted and needed him to articulate. “Well, we’re working together.”

  His scent washed over her, surrounding her in crisp, mountain air, newly laundered cotton, and that distinctly but undefinable essence of Gray Bowie.

  “She
says she’s not coming after all. Something came up.”

  She’d heard him, of course, and what should have registered was that she didn’t have to confront her ex’s mom. Instead, she lingered, making it look like she was processing the information—hm, will it matter if she doesn’t come?—when in fact she was gulping in a whole lungful of his scent and trapping it inside her so her body could revel in it tonight, when she was alone in her room.

  “That’s fine.” She sat back. “I’m actually relieved.”

  He pulled up the sleeve of her blouse, gently rubbing the tip of his finger on the ink on her wrist. “Is this your reminder to reach for the stars?”

  Her skin pebbled. “What?” She glanced down at the perfectly aligned and evenly spaced band of tiny stars wrapped around her wrist. “Not exactly. It’s a reminder to keep my focus on the future when I get discouraged that I’m not where I want to be.” Sitting so close, skin touching, it almost hurt to look into his bright blue eyes. “You did that for me. Something you said once.” He’d probably forgotten all about the Etch-a-Sketch notes he’d left her.

  He nodded. “I like it.” Obviously, because he kept caressing that one star right in the center of her inner wrist.

  “Thanks.” It stoked an unbearable sexual tension in her. “I love your ink. That one on your shoulder blade? That’s incredible.” A vivid image of a snowboarder, arms out for balance, stood out against a backdrop of sharp angles and straight lines that fanned out like a protractor.

  “I got it because people are always asking why it’s so easy for me, but it’s not. We didn’t just hit the slopes, you know? Coach used physics to teach us how to carve. If I’m good, it’s because of all the hours I’ve put in on the mountain, along with everything I’ve studied.”

  “I know how hard you worked.” I was there. But she hadn’t really seen him, had she? She’d been too obsessed with keeping Robert alive.

  Gray finished his water and swiped his mouth the cocktail napkin. “So, what about you?”

  That low voice, like they were in bed, the caress of his finger like he was fascinated by the single star, made her insides go all soft and gooey. Desire streamed, hot and thick through her.