by J. L. Mac
He sat across from me and gave me potentially the best compliment anyone had ever given me, and I delighted in the warm feeling it gave me.
“Thank you,” I mumbled with my eyes cast down, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.
“Look at me,” he demanded in a tone that matched his size and presence.
Somewhat reluctantly, I lifted my chin. His dark brown eyes bore into me. I could see his pulse beat where the thick artery below his jaw line descended down his neck to disappear beneath his shirt. The beat of my heart quickened and I swallowed hard.
My lips felt suddenly dry.
“Flor.” He said my name like it was a plea and promise, sending the flutters in my stomach into overdrive.
“Graham,” I whispered.
“Flor, if I could get up right now, if this stupid thing wasn’t stuck on my leg, do you know what I’d do?”
“What?”
“I’d get up, take you in my arms and kiss you for a week, a month, a year. I’d kiss you until you forgot your own name. I’d kiss you until we both forgot everything.” There was something sad about the way he’d whispered those words. I suspected that his brother had something to do with it, and right then, I wanted very badly to be the catalyst that caused a sudden case of amnesia for him.
“Graham.” My voice was as shaky as my hands felt.
“I meant what I said in the elevator. You make me want to forget everything. You make me want to lose control.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I whispered, almost afraid of what his answer would be because something in me—something in my subconscious—knew that Graham Stone had more to him than I was aware of. That subconscious part of me was keenly aware that there was so much more to this man and it was likely a mix of good and bad. I didn’t care. I wanted him. I wanted to help him forget everything. I wanted to forget everything too.
My mind raced in all directions as I contemplated what to do with what I was feeling.
“Flor, for the love of God, stop what you’re doing and get over here. I can’t take it anymore.”
I couldn’t take it any more either. I got to my feet and slowly walked to where he sat in his wheelchair. Graham took my hand and brought it to his lips. He deposited a soft, warm kiss that felt extremely intimate on the back of my hand. His hands went to my hips and tugged me gently over the armrest of his chair so I was sitting across his lap.
“Doesn’t this hurt?” I winced a little, hoping that the weight of me on his lap wasn’t causing him discomfort.
“Hurts like hell,” he whispered, brushing wisps of my hair from my face.
“Let me up. I don’t want to hurt you.” I tried easing off his lap but he held me tightly to him.
“I didn’t mean my leg, baby.”
Baby!
“Looking at you, not looking at you, smelling you, not smelling you, tasting you and not tasting you, it all hurts like hell, but I think I like it.”
“Does that make you a masochist?”
“I guess it does.” He smiled broadly, showing off those dimples in his cheeks and it was my undoing.
I brought my palms up to his face and brushed my hands across the scruff that was going to be a beard in no time if he chose not to shave. I didn’t think I’d mind either look on him. He was gorgeous no matter what.
I licked my lips and leaned in for a kiss that was certain to be the beginning of something I felt powerless to stop.
I didn’t want to stop it.
I flinched when firm knocking at his door snapped me out of the daze I was in. I jumped up from his lap and fidgeted, feeling like a teenager who’d just been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing.
Graham’s head fell back and he muttered a few choice words as I made my way for his door. I peered through the peep hole and saw a man with brown hair waiting in the hall.
I unlocked the door and swung it open for him. He startled when he saw me and seemed to hesitate for a moment.
“Florence Randall?” He pointed his finger and squinted his eyes.
“Yes.”
“He was right,” he murmured as he moved past me, entering the apartment.
“Right about what?” I asked, following him back to the living room.
“I sifted through a pile of phone numbers to locate yours after his phone was ruined. He said you were worth the effort.” His eyes looked me up and down clinically and nodded. “He was right.” I blushed.
“Conrad, you’re fired,” Graham said, pointing a sharp finger at the man I’d just let into his apartment.
“That makes twice this week. What did I do this time?”
“That woman was about to kiss me and you interrupted us.”
“I can leave. Trust me, I’d much rather be home, eating dinner.” He turned as though to leave and I reached out to grab his arm.
“No. That’s okay. I was just about to make something for us to eat. Hungry?”
“No, thank you. I’ve got dinner at home and this won’t take long.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you guys to it. I’ll be back with food,” I said while looking to Goliath, noting just how famished he looked but not for food. A tiny zing of purely feminine triumph shot through my chest forcing me to smile.
By the time I prepared dinner for Goliath and me, Conrad had left. I sat our plates down on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to gather napkins and condiments.
“Con thinks my list is a great idea,” Graham announced proudly.
“He’s your employee. Of course he’s going to side with you.”
“It’s a great idea and you know it.”
“It’s ridiculous.” I laughed, setting the bottle of mustard on a table beside him.
“All I’m saying is you’ll thank me later when your books are all done and they sell like hotcakes.”
“We will see about that.”
After agreeing to disagree about the list, I gave him his plate and sat down across from him with my own balanced on my lap. We were sharing dinner that I’d made, but nothing sounded more appetizing than straddling his lap and getting back to what we’d been ready to do before Conrad interrupted us.
Graham hummed appreciatively at the burger I had made as he picked it up and examined it. He went on to whistle like he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked to his left where I’d left the bottle of mustard. He snagged it, shook it like a maniac and squeezed some onto his burger with gusto.
I kept watching, ignoring my own burger, as he licked his lips and bit into his food as though it was his last burger for all of eternity. His eyes rolled back and he hummed some more. Words were muffled behind a mouth full of food. He looked my direction gave a thumbs up and noticed that he had mustard on his thumb so he popped it into his mouth and licked it off.
“Savage,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“You’re humming and whistling and licking up mustard and taking giant bites…you really are a two year old.”
“It’s a good burger.” He shrugged. “Eat,” he ordered, motioning toward my plate. I rolled my eyes, took the top bun off my burger, adjusted my tomato, lettuce and pickle, then replaced the top bun and wrapped a napkin around the bottom to catch anything that slipped out. I brought the burger to my lips but froze when I realized that Graham had stopped humming to his dinner and was staring at me.
“What in the hell are you doing to that poor burger?”
“I was adjusting.” I shrugged, unsure of what the big deal was.
“Why? Why would you do that? Part of burger glory is their tendency to fall apart and get messy, and there you are ruining the burger glory.”
“I am not.” I looked down at the tidy state of my food and hated to think that perhaps he was right. When did I start eating burgers this way? The answer was since before I could remember!
Thanks, mom.
“The situation is far more dire than I had first guessed. You’re going to need the intensive Stone Kid Experience.” He shook his
head and took another gargantuan bite.
I glared at him and chose to ignore what he’d said. The situation wasn’t dire! He was being dramatic. If I did the things he put on his stupid list, then it would be enough. I hoped. I’d relive the glory days of my youth—the one I didn’t have—and I’d better relate to my target audience. But I wasn’t going to invest too much thought or energy into his stupid Stone Kid Experience, intensive or otherwise.
“You know what confuses me? How the hell you can be so sexy and intense and this childish at the same time. You’re like Jekyll and Hyde.”
“Well I’m glad you find me sexy and intense.”
“You know I find—found—find you, um…” I left it at that.
“I guess it’s just something about this place. It reminds me of so much, you know?” He smiled a sad sort of smile and looked down at his hands. “Tommy was different, very into his own head and I was a typical kid, I guess, but we did pretty much everything you’d expect from two young boys. I’ll never forget those days.”
“I’m glad you have those memories, and I’m sorry for…whatever happened.”
We ate our dinner in companionable silence, Graham mowing down the contents of his plate much quicker than I could eat my own. Satisfied, I wiped my hands and dropped my napkin on my plate. I looked up to find Graham looking at me with a tender, almost apprehensive, look on his face. It made me nervous.
“Flor, I was thinking, if you need employment, I’d love to help. You could work for me.”
“What?” I nearly choked.
“Don’t get upset. I’m not trying to insult you. I just thought we could help each other.”
“What?” I repeated, feeling puzzled by his sudden job offer.
“I need a lot of help. I have doctor’s appointments and I can’t do much on my own. I like to avoid Halley, if at all possible. If you were willing to help me, I would pay you well.”
“But you have your assistant.”
“Yes, I have Conrad, but he’s covering for me on the work end. He’s going to be a very busy man until I get back to work.”
“Graham, you’re trying to be nice and I appreciate the gesture, but—”
“Flor, you’d be helping me more than you realize. Please.”
“How long?”
“Until I’m back to normal, I suppose.”
“I’d have to make at least what I bring home now.”
“I’ll give you Conrad’s email address. You email him. He will sort it all out. I’ll pay what you want.”
“How about two-hundred-fifty thousand? Million? One point five?” I joked. Though I knew for certain that he was being charitable, relief unfurled in me. I didn’t want to have to accept the job my dad had offered. The idea of it had been there in my head, somewhere in the background. It still made me feel cheap, and I especially didn’t want to ask for the job after what had happened at Chez Thibodeaux.
“Baby, for a million dollars, I’m going to require a little more from you than running errands and cooking for me.” Mischief played in his eyes.
“Like what?”
“Oh, say, every inch of that body of yours would need to be exclusively mine.”
“I, uh, only need what I make now. I was only kidding.”
“Right. Well, if you ever change your mind,” he joked, flashing a big smile that turned my heart over in my chest. “I’m serious about helping me, though.”
“Can I sleep on it?”
“Of course. Oh and before I forget…” He reached to a white envelope on the table beside him and handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I ran my hand down into the envelope and fished out a key with a keychain attached, the letter S dangling from the short chain.
“A key to this apartment.”
“Do you hand these out to all the ladies?” I joked, examining the heavy silver S.
“No. You and Con are the only two people, other than myself, who have a key. I had Con duplicate his for you.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you. I promise I’ll announce myself loudly when I come over.”
The hungry look in Graham’s eyes had reappeared but he said nothing, and I wondered if my gray eyes were as revealing as his seemed to be.
“I really like it when you laugh. Let’s watch a movie.” Graham reached for the television remote and scrolled through the TV guide. He came to a stop on the movie channels and clicked through each title one by one.
I settled back on his couch and looked between him and his TV.
“Shrek?” I asked with a raised brow.
“It’s a good movie and you need to get into that kid shit frame of mind.”
“You’re so romantic.” He shrugged, grinning with that little twinkle in his eye that I loved so much. I’d watch paint dry if I got to see that twinkle again.
Flor
Ogre
I barely noticed anything at work that Thursday. It felt pointless being there, anyway. I had already completed the work for next month’s issue, which was Social She’s final print edition. Unless they changed what would be included in next month’s copy, there really wasn’t much work for me to do. My heart ached as I idly thought about my time at the magazine. I’d miss everyone here, even if I didn’t miss my Contents section.
At lunchtime, I went to the deli just down the block and grabbed a turkey sandwich. I ate alone, with only my thoughts for company, at a small table in the corner. I sat quietly, considering the turn my life had taken in recent weeks.
I lost my job. My dad preemptively offered me a great position at his advertising firm, but I just couldn’t convince myself to accept. If I couldn’t find something on my own, I’d have to relent, tuck my tail and hope he still felt so magnanimous after our verbal tussle at the restaurant.
I’d met a man who had sent my libido into overdrive and seemingly in the next breath things went south. His sister hated me for what I thought was a very unclear, unwarranted reason. He was nearly killed by a lunatic driver. Then things went south some more when I’d discovered that he was my noisy sometimes-neighbor and that he knew I lived next door after I had come to offer him cookies, which he declined quite rudely.
I pepper sprayed him in the face, something that still made me cringe. I still had that niggling feeling that Graham wasn’t being completely forthcoming. It lingered in the back of my mind and I hoped, really hoped, that whatever it was, he’d decide to trust me enough to reveal whatever he was keeping from me. I just hoped that it wouldn’t be one of those catastrophic secrets like that he dressed like a woman on occasion. I half heartedly laughed to myself in the corner with my lunch.
My head was spinning. So much had happened and keeping up with it all was daunting. Keeping up with my feelings about it all was even more daunting. I truly loved seeing Graham, but I also truly hated the unbidden feeling that he was holding something back. For all I knew, he was holding a lot back.
A selfish little part of me wanted to go on ignoring that niggling feeling and soak in everything that seemed to be developing between us. All my adult life, I’d been cautious with my heart without even truly realizing it. I had my share of relationships but they were short term. Even if the guy was great I somehow managed to run him off before things had an opportunity to flourish, and if the guy didn’t run, I did. That block feature on social media was handy and I used it. I felt that Graham wouldn’t make me regret dropping my guard a little. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything that would hurt me. Then again, a small but persuasive voice deep inside warned that if Graham Stone, my Goliath, turned out to be a gargoyle, I would never recover from it.
I glanced at the time on my phone and noted that I still had twenty minutes before I needed to be back at work. I opened Facebook and scrolled through my messages. I found Graham’s message and smiled at what he had typed the last time he’d messaged me.
Graham Stone: For the record, this is Graham Stone, your neighbor, your “Goliath.”
I wondered what he was doing in h
is brother’s apartment right then. I wondered if he had eaten anything for lunch.
Florence Randall: Hi.
Graham Stone: Hi, beautiful.
Florence Randall: Have you had anything to eat?
Graham Stone: Yes. Con came by with lunch and a pile of work that I fear is going to keep stacking up.
Florence Randall: Feeling okay today? Pain?
Graham Stone: My leg hurts a little, but I’ll be fine.
Florence Randall: You have prescription pain killers in the pharmacy bag that Conrad brought over. I think it’s in the bathroom.
Graham Stone: I’m fine. Really.
Florence Randall: Okay. Would you like anything special for dinner tonight? I can grab what I need from the store after work.
Graham Stone: The only thing I want for dinner isn’t in some grocery store.
Florence Randall: And what is it that you want?
Graham Randall: You. Every bit. Every morsel.
Florence Randall: I’ll see what I can do. ;) Gotta run. See you tonight.
Teasing him gave me a little trill of excitement. I smiled like an idiot as I made my way down the sidewalk, back to Social She. I counted the minutes until the proverbial whistle blew and I got out of there.
I walked right past his door and got cleaned up and changed before going over to see him. I stood in the kitchen that I shared with Matt and wondered what to make for dinner that night.
Matt came through the door just as I was dumping a box of pasta into a pot of boiling water.
“Hey!”
“Hey to you too, stranger!”
“Me? How about you? And for fuck’s sake please update me on what’s going on with that yummy neighbor of ours.”
“Hands off, sir!”
Matt raised his hands like he’d touched something hot and smiled. “You are so hooking up with him.” He shook his head.
“What?” I squeaked. “I am not.”
“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, doll face.”
“You’re ridiculous. Even if I did want to roll around with him, I can’t—or I shouldn’t.”