by May Williams
Not this time.
She swung a tote bag over her shoulder and pulled a violin case from the seat, bumping the door shut with her hip. The little sideways movement of her backside nearly made him drop his dinner on the sidewalk.
“Date?” He called to her, but he knew damn well she’d been playing with her string quartet. His sisters, ever trying to push him to success with her, kept him well informed about Gracie’s whereabouts, often in not very subtle ways.
“Wedding tonight.” She shrugged and walked toward him.
God help him, the front view was better than the back. The dress dipped in a deep v-neck, accentuating her generous breasts. A wide band of shinier fabric around the middle made her waist look tiny. He should compliment her appearance, but he couldn’t get his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth.
When he blinked himself back to reality, she stood in front of him with her head cocked to the side. Her dark, bouncy curls were up in a sophisticated style, but a few strands escaped to brush against her neck. He’d give anything to pull the pins out and run his fingers through her hair.
“Adrien, are you okay?” Her lips curved up in a half-smile, evaluating him. She’d known him long enough to read his expression, and he probably looked like a fourteen-year-old boy worshipping Miss America.
“Yeah, fine.” He managed, then stupidly added, “I’m just getting home.”
“I can see that.” She gestured to the lab coat still flapping around him in the slight breeze. “I didn’t know biologists put in such late nights.”
“I was waiting for an experiment to finish.” Brilliant, he thought, possibly the lamest thing to say to a beautiful woman late on a Friday night.
“Was it successful?”
“What?”
“Your experiment,” she prompted.
“I think so.” His ability to be logical this close to Gracie, in that dress, was seriously compromised. “Won’t know for certain until next week.”
“I hope so for you, but I better get inside.” She moved to go around him. “My babysitter will be wondering where I’m at.”
Her dedication to raising her son while working hard to finish her education to better their lives had long earned his admiration, but it was the tip of the iceberg when it came to his feelings for her. He’d admired her perseverance when dealing with her mother’s antics back when they were both in high school, her strength and tenacity in raising a child alone, and her fierce independence. Now, he wanted more than to admire her from a safe distance. He wanted to be an active part of her life.
He stepped to the side politely so that she could move past him. They both lived in the renovated 1930s factory, and she unlocked the massive exterior oak door with a single, practiced hand. When he reached around her to pull it open for both of them to enter, she slipped under his arm, brushing lightly against his side and leaving the lingering scent of her perfume. He wanted to touch her—put his hand on her back or wrap an arm around her shoulders—but he didn’t. He didn’t want to scare her off.
Inside, the entry way was paneled with richly-stained wood salvaged from the factory’s offices. The staircase with its brass rail rose on the right with a bright red runner down the center. Their apartments were on the top floor in the back of the building, and without an elevator, they were both used to the climb. But rarely had they done it together.
Adrien tried to concentrate on counting the steps under his feet so he wouldn’t look at Gracie’s figure climbing the stairs ahead of him. She’d gathered the front of the dress in her free hand, but in the back the black gown trailed against the red carpet. He focused on the hem, counting the steps as he went. If he looked up at her hips swaying on the steps, he’d probably fall over and tumble back to the entryway.
When he reached the top, he was happy to catalog the information that there were eighteen steps. Surely, that would come in handy in case of a building-themed trivia game or if the structure were on fire and the firefighters needed assistance. He was still thinking this when she stopped at her door, and he bumped into her. Her soft curves left an imprint that tingled up and down his body.
“Oh!” She gave a startled little laugh and stepped away. “I think you live down there.” She pointed further along the hall to his doorway.
“Yeah.” He held up the bags. “Have you eaten, Curls?” He used the nickname he’d given her in middle school. It’d been a long time since he’d said it aloud, and he waited for her reaction.
“No.” She looked surprised at the question. “I was just going to grab something before going to bed.”
“I have plenty for two,” he said, and then hastily quipped, “Even if one of them is me.”
“It does smell good.” Her hand was on the knob. She tipped her head from one side to the other, as if actually weighing the options. “Give me a few minutes to pay my babysitter and send her home.”
“Okay, I’ll be back.” He walked past her to his own door, digging in his pocket for his keys. When he glanced back, she had disappeared, but he’d gotten an invitation and that was a victory. He checked his watch. Three minutes to eleven. He’d give her five minutes and go back to her door. He shucked his lab coat, tossing it over the back of the couch. His work attire under the coat was jeans and a t-shirt, so changing was unnecessary unless…he should put on a nicer shirt? He looked down at his favorite blue shirt, from a bike race in Ann Arbor three years ago.
Two of the five minutes passed in deliberation of his clothing. He paced the distance between the door and his giant fish tanks in frustration. What the hell is wrong with me? Gracie’s been in my life or on its edges for years. Why the hell am I so nervous about eating Chinese take-out with her? He sucked in a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, trying to stay calm. The answer was simple: He was nervous because he was finally at a point in his life when he could have a relationship with her if she wanted it.
He hoped she did.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the image of her rejection eight years ago. Her face, set in determined lines, but still sending him away, haunted him. He snapped himself back to the present. Things were different now. Or they would be, if he had anything to say about it. They’d had two pseudo-dates in the past year, albeit both of them thanks to his sister Colette. Her fundraiser a year ago and her wedding to Ian last Christmas had both given him an excuse to escort Gracie.
Did those even count as dates? More importantly, did she see them as dates? He checked his watch again. If he walked slowly down the hall, it would be almost five minutes…
He cracked his door when he heard movement in the corridor. Gracie stepped out of her apartment with the babysitter to say goodbye. When the girl disappeared down the stairs, Gracie glanced in the direction of Adrien’s door with a little smile on her face. She waved to him before moving back over her own threshold and disappearing inside. That was close enough to a signal to have him striding down the hall. When he pushed open her door, the living room was empty.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, popping her head around a door. “I have to get out of this dress. There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.”
“Do you?”
“Sure.” Her voice was distant, like she was digging in a closet. Her apartment was laid out similarly to his, but hers had two bedrooms along the right wall whereas his was a one-bedroom. The old brick factory on the fringe of downtown Petoskey had been converted into loft style apartments, much like many of the relics of industrialization in this part of Michigan The exterior brick wall, with its large windows, still framed the space, making light and airy central rooms which were comprised of a kitchen, dining room and living room. Hers mixed several shades of blue with creamy white to give it a light, summery feel.
“You’re fast,” he said, when she came out in jean shorts and a yellow tank top a moment later.
“The dress is all one piece so it’s easy to get off,” she said casually, then her cheeks turned a bright pink, and she
averted her gaze from his.
“Is Brett asleep?” He asked, trying not to salivate over the image of Gracie whisking off that sexy dress.
“All tucked in. Once he’s out, he sleeps a solid ten hours.” Gracie reached in a cabinet for plates. “Silverware or chopsticks?”
“I’m too hungry to eat with chopsticks. Takes too long.” Adrien pulled containers from the bags. “You’re lucky Brett sleeps so well, from what I hear about kids. Jamie has Lex up half the night sometimes.”
“Your nephew is a wild child.” Gracie put silverware and napkins on the table. “God smiled on me with Brett. Probably figured a single mom needed a break.”
Nothing like seeing temptation at my dining room table, Gracie thought, when Adrien took a seat. Lean and lanky were the best words to describe his body, but she could add hard, muscled, and perfect just to amuse herself. At several inches over six feet, he was more than a foot taller than she was. Top that off with wavy dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw, and any female within fifty yards was sunk. Although she’d carefully never asked about his girlfriends, she’d heard his sisters mention the names of a few women he’d dated. But there was no one serious and nothing recent.
He gave her a little grin before reaching for his beer. She remembered that expression from high school—it was the one that made all the girls sigh an inward and sometimes outward “aahhh.” Apparently, he still had it, and it had only matured with age. Did he know how charming he was? She doubted it. Her challenge was resisting. In the past couple years, she’d finally gotten her life where she wanted it to be, and she was happy with how things were. She didn’t need complications. And Adrien Peterson was a life-sized complication.
“Thanks for sharing your dinner with me. Mine would probably have been yogurt and some grapes,” she said, sheepishly, opening the dinner conversation.
“No problem. I’d starve on that diet.” He opened the containers of food, handing her one of rice and another of chicken with vegetables.
“You always were a big eater. I guess that hasn’t changed.”
“I’m going to continue to eat like this until Mother Nature starts working against me.” He chuckled, spooning chicken lo mein onto his plate.
“That’ll probably never happen, as active as you are.” She put a small pile of rice on her plate, sounding appreciative. “I’m jealous. I can’t get away with eating anything extra. I haven’t exercised as much lately. If I keep that up, I’ll be in trouble.”
“Not from what I saw in that black dress.” His eyes were dark in the dimmed light of the room, but they were a bit like an animal stalking its prey. “I may have to hire your quartet just so I can see you in it again.”
She focused on her plate for a moment, making little mounds of rice and vegetables, waiting for his suggestion and her burning cheeks to fade. She had to find something to talk about that didn’t let flirtation happen. No flirting, not with him—not with anyone when she had a son to raise—but definitely not with Adrien.
“I was surprised to see you move in here,” she finally said. “I thought you’d live at the farm with Colette and Ian while your house was being built.” With her connections to his family, she knew exactly when he had completed his degree in Ann Arbor and returned home. The unexpected part was seeing him move in down the hall.
“That was the plan, but living with newlyweds isn’t for me.”
“Too mushy?”
“No, well, a little. I just felt like they’d be happier if I weren’t around. Plus the babies are coming after the first of the year and I don’t know how that’ll be.”
“Twin girls I heard. I hope they’re identical. I love identical twins.”
“You do?” He stopped with a fork full of food halfway to his mouth. “I’d be scared to death I’d mix them up. What if they got confused as babies and went through their whole lives with the wrong names?”
She laughed. “No one would ever know, so it probably wouldn’t matter.”
“I guess,” he conceded. “Lexy and Mom are flipping out about how much work twins will be.”
“Sure, I would too, if they turn out to be kids like Lexy’s! But last time I saw Colette, she seemed calm.”
“She is. Ian puts on a strong face in front of her, but he’s nervous as hell.” Adrien grinned. “But nothing ruffles Collie. She’ll probably balance a baby on each hip and head for the barn to take care of whatever animal comes into the rescue center.”
“Since she’s having the twins, I guess her attitude is all that matters.” She held up her beer bottle to him. “To your baby nieces.” They clinked bottles, drank, and returned to eating. “How are the house plans going?”
“Okay.” He shrugged and rolled noodles onto his fork. “The site’s marked out and a temporary driveway in. The foundation will go in this fall. Since it’s already mid-September, that’s as much as will get done before the snow flies. And it’s just as well, since I keep changing my mind about the details of the house. I have to decide soon or my contractor’s going to kill me.”
“What’s the problem?” She unwrapped an egg roll.
“At first, I couldn’t commit to size. The contractor said four thousand square feet, but I thought that was too huge. We’ve agreed on thirty-five hundred, which I still think is too big, but he says it’s easier to build it big now than add on later.”
“Pretty big for a single man,” she observed and immediately wished she hadn’t.
“I don’t plan on being single forever,” he said, his gaze on her face, “which led to the other problem. How many bedrooms?”
Bedrooms was not part of a conversation she wanted to have with Adrien. She squirmed on the inside, but asked, “What did you decide?”
“Five.” He held up his large hand splayed open.
“That’s a lot. What are you going to do with all of them?”
“Fill ’em up with kids.”
“Oh.” She meticulously poured duck sauce on the end of her egg roll as an excuse for not looking up.
“What? That’s only, like, three, with a guest room. One per room. That’s not so bad, is it?” His eyes, intent and questioning, focused on her.
“Oh, um, well…” she stuffed a chunk of egg roll in her mouth, quickly. “What else do you have planned?”
“I know I want triple-paned windows,” he said, actually getting into it and thankfully ignoring her food faux pas. “Beyond that, the exterior is a mystery. I think I want it to be green and woodsy to fit in with the location, but I’m not sure about anything.”
“I don’t remember you being indecisive.”
“I’ve never built a house before. It’s intimidating. What I decide now I’m going to live with the rest of my life, probably my children’s lives too. Most people buy or build a house with the thought that they’ll someday sell it. That’s not the case for me. This is it.”
“It’s a big commitment, but if you really hate something you can change it. It’s not like a person. You’re not getting married. You’re building a house.”
“But what if I get married and she hates the house?” His voice dropped down, making the space between them suddenly shrink.
“Any woman you’d marry would love the property and love what you chose.” She toyed with her beer bottle and didn’t meet his eyes. She was afraid to, afraid of what she’d see there.
“Hope you’re right.” A beat of silence passed. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Abruptly, her beer bottle slid from her hand and banged on the table.
“No.” Her voice squeaked a little. He had to know she’d dated no one since Brett’s birth. His sisters would have told him that much. She cleared her throat before asking, “You?”
“Nope. Gracie?” His questioning tone forced her to look up for the first time in several minutes. “I was wondering, now that I’m home to stay, if we could start seeing each other. You know, more than two dates in a year.”
If she’d thought he’d go there ton
ight, she’d never have agreed to this impromptu dinner party. She’d given him an opening, and now she had to close that door again. Gently. She cared about this man and didn’t want to hurt him like she had in the past. It hadn’t been her intention to, then, but she knew it had happened.
“I don’t know.” She glanced toward her sleeping son’s room. “I have a lot going on in my life right now. With working full time at the ER, playing a few gigs, and helping out Lexy when she needs me, I want to spend all my free time with Brett.” Maybe it was the coward’s way out to hide behind a seven-year-old boy.
“Are you saying you’re too busy or that you’re not interested?” He didn’t give her time to answer before going on. “I don’t want to take you away from your son. The three of us could do some things together while you decide. Do you work tomorrow at the ER? I could watch him.”
“No,” she said automatically, ever protective of her son, though Adrien wasn’t a danger to her child—just her heart. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got it covered.” She adjusted her tone, reminding herself that is was just a nice gesture on his part. “I work seven to seven, same as every other Saturday.”
“You’re not going to get much sleep tonight,” he observed. The clock on the coffeemaker was nearly at midnight.
“I’m used to it.” She shrugged. “Having a child, working a couple jobs, and putting myself through school didn’t leave much time for sleeping.”
“I guess not.” He took a sip of his beer, turning away slightly to do it but eyeing her nonetheless. “Are you free on Sunday?”
His persistence was admirable, but she couldn’t. “Not this week. I promised to help Gabe settle into his place.” She could temporarily hide behind obligations to avoid Adrien.