The Two-date Rule

by Tawna Fenske

  Christ. What the hell was she doing?

  But she kept doing it, ignoring messages from Kayla and Aislin, too. She worked with a crazed fervor, like she was possessed by a demon that knew HTML and Javascript and CSS but wasn’t very good at personal hygiene.

  Sometime later that day, the doorbell rang. Stevie barked and ran for it, his claws skittering across the hardwood. Hoping for rescue, probably.

  “We’ll go for a walk, I promise,” she muttered. Raking her fingers through her hair—was that oatmeal?—she padded sock-footed toward the front of her house. “It’s just FedEx,” she assured him as she reached for the doorknob. “They’re delivering that contract I—”

  “Willa.” Grady stood on her doorstep, brow creased in concern. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

  She must have looked worse than she realized. Willa swallowed. “Grady.”

  He had no flowers, no wine, no beef jerky. Just a worried expression that grew more intense as he stared at her. “Christ, what’s wrong?”

  “What?” She smoothed her hair down and tried to remember the last time she’d changed out of these sweatpants. Wednesday?

  “You look…gaunt.” He was probably thinking another word—terrible? Horrifying? Insane?—but had the good sense to hold back. “Are you sick or something?”

  Willa shook her head as guilt coursed through her. “I’m sorry to worry you. I’m just—”

  “Working, I know.” Grady frowned. “Can you take a break for fifteen minutes?”

  “What’s happening for fifteen minutes?”

  She half expected a sex joke, but the lines of concern etched deeper between Grady’s brows. “I’m cooking you dinner,” he said. “And if you don’t have anything in your fridge, I’m running to the store while you take a shower.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms so tightly, she dissolved against his chest. “You’ve had me worried, Wills. You can’t just drop off the face of the earth like that.”

  “I do that sometimes.”

  “Well, don’t.” He drew back and looked into her eyes. “Kayla and Aislin—they’ve been worried, too. They asked me to check on you. Thought I might have better odds of pulling you out than they would.”

  Her friends had a point. She started to reach for his fly. “You do have the magic wand.”

  “Nuh-uh.” He circled her wrist with his fingers, bringing it up to his lips. Planting the softest kiss across her knuckles, he released her, then swatted her ass. “You need food and rest. Then we’ll talk about your other basic needs.”

  “But—”

  He caught her by the shoulders and turned her around, herding her toward the bathroom. “Go,” he said. “I want to hear singing in that shower.”

  “Jeez,” she muttered, marching toward the bathroom. “So bossy.”

  But as she closed the door behind her, she realized she was smiling. Then she glanced in the mirror, and her smile vanished fast. Lord, she did look awful. Her ponytail hung lopsided with the end of it snarled around the button of her flannel shirt. Stains dotted the front of her T-shirt like bad Rorschach tests, and a mascara smear marred the edge of her cheek. When had she applied mascara? Days ago.

  No wonder he’d looked appalled.

  Okay, so Grady had a point. Hygiene, basic nutrition—she should start there. She stripped off her hideous clothes and stepped beneath the shower spray, letting the water sluice down her back. The heat felt amazing, washing the kinks from her neck and the tangles from her hair.

  Somehow, she lost track of time, because when she walked barefoot into the kitchen in clean jeans with a towel wrapped around her head, Grady was standing next to her counter.

  Her clean kitchen counter.

  “You did my dishes?” She stared at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I also didn’t have to bake a lasagna from scratch.”

  “You did that?”

  “No, I said I didn’t.” He grinned. “But I did order one from Ernesto’s. It’ll be here in fifteen minutes, along with a salad and garlic bread.”

  Was this what it felt like to have someone take care of her? She couldn’t wrap her head around it, couldn’t stop feeling the prick of tears behind her eyelids. She blinked them away as she held on to the counter for balance.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “This is what friends do for each other. Or fuck buddies. Or whatever the hell we are.”

  She took a step closer, resting a hand on his chest. “What are we, Grady?”

  “I don’t fucking know.” His arms went around her, and he pulled her tight against his body. His big, solid, muscular body. “But I know I can’t stay away from you.”

  Willa clung to him for a long time, breathing in and out until her heart rate slowed. Then she opened her eyes and drew back, going up on tiptoe to kiss him.

  Her mouth was cool and minty from toothpaste, and his was warm and tasted like cinnamon Life Savers. Somewhere in the middle, everything felt right. Somehow, everything shifted into focus and the world made sense with him there.

  When she drew back, her heart was hammering in her head. “I’m sorry I dropped off the face of the earth,” she said.

  “It’s okay.” He cupped her ass, holding her against him. “I thought you were blowing me off. Or you were hurt. Or kidnapped by aliens. I had to come see for myself which it was.”

  “And what’s your assessment?”

  He smiled and kissed her again. “That I’m nuts about you.”

  Willa laced her fingers behind his neck, kissing him again as she ground her body against his, reveling in his heat, his solidness. Grady’s hands slid up her back, and he slowly unwound the towel from her head. Fingers threading through her still-wet hair, he molded her against him, claiming her with his mouth, his body.

  “God, you feel good.” He ground against her, using his body to turn her, to switch positions so he had her pinned up against the kitchen counter.

  Willa didn’t need any prompting. She boosted herself up, sliding easily onto the counter with his hands lifting her up by her hips. Twining her legs around his waist, she pulled him against her, grinding into the hardness between his legs. How long had it been?

  How long had she let herself be sucked into the dark abyss of dread and fear and deadlines she invented all on her own? How long had she fed those imaginary wolves snapping at her heels?

  Grady’s hands slid up her shirt, making her forget, making her feel. Was that what she’d been running from? She didn’t know. The only thing she was sure of was that his hands on her breasts left her reeling from pleasure that clouded out all the other sensations. All the fear, all the panic, all the uncertainty, gone with the stroke of his thumb over her nipple.

  She moaned against his mouth and tugged at the hem of his shirt, hungry for the feel of his bare flesh against hers. Flames licked up the inside of her belly as Grady licked his way down her throat, breaking contact just long enough to tug her shirt off over her head. Groaning as his tongue circled her nipple, she speared her fingers through his hair and held him against her, held on for dear life.

  Ding-dong!

  Grady drew back, looking more than a little dazed. “And that would be the lasagna.”

  Willa groaned and slammed her thighs together, gritting her teeth. “I never thought I’d be annoyed by lasagna.”

  He scooped her T-shirt off the floor and pressed it to her chest, kissing her softly before stepping away. “I’ll get the food. And then I’ll make you come.”

  “In that order?” Her voice was high and quivery and not her own.

  Grady grinned. “Any order you like.”

  …

  Later—much later—after lasagna and a glass of wine for each of them, after frenzi
ed sex that started on the dining room table and ended in Willa’s bedroom, they stretched out on her bed, staring up at the stars.

  “So here we are again,” Grady said.

  “Here we are,” she agreed, snuggling against him.

  He pressed a kiss to her temple, stroking her hair with his thumb and forefinger. “Feeling less stressed?”

  “Considerably.” She smiled as she burrowed against his chest, but a twinge of uncertainty tugged at her subconscious. “Mostly.”

  “Only mostly?”

  She sighed, not sure how to explain it to him. “Sometimes I feel like I’m wearing a gorilla suit and trying to tread water in a pool filled with molasses.”

  Grady burst out laughing. “There’s a description for you.” He kissed her temple again. “I guess I get the picture, though.”

  “I want to relax, but I feel like the second I do, I’ll go under.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just stroked her hair as his heart thudded steadily and softly under her ear. “When’s the last time you missed a deadline?”

  “What?”

  “A deadline. When have you missed one? Or dropped the ball with a client or—”

  “Never.” She couldn’t keep the scandalized tone from her voice. “My record with my clients is impeccable. I have a reputation for delivering on time—delivering early—every time.”

  “Okay,” he said, not surprised at all. “Then do you think maybe—maybe—it would be okay to let your guard down just a tiny bit?”

  Her fingers curled against his chest. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not suggesting you spend your workdays chugging wine straight from the bottle while lighting contracts on fire,” he said. “Just…it seems like once in a while you could take a day off. Refresh your brain, rejuvenate your spirit.”

  Willa opened her mouth to argue, to insist she did take time off—she did. Brunches with girlfriends, the occasional date with Grady, dinner at his parents’ house—

  “I’m not talking about a few stolen hours here and there,” he said. “I’m talking about an entire day where you don’t work at all. Or hell, it doesn’t have to be a day. An overnight.”

  She anchored her elbow on the mattress beside him, propping her chin on her hand. “You’ve stayed the night here plenty of times.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He rolled to face her and brushed the hair from her cheek. “When’s the last time you slept somewhere else?”

  Tracing a finger around the little freckle at the edge of his shoulder, she gave him a small smile. “You’ve never invited me back to your place.”

  “True,” he said. “Would you have come?”

  “Probably not,” she admitted. “It’s hard with pets. And with a home office.”

  “How about a staycation?”

  “A what?”

  “A staycation. A night in a fancy hotel with room service and cushy robes and one of those fancy ergonomic dog beds so Stevie could come, too.” He cast a look at the dog, who was curled on his bed in the corner. “We could leave after you finish work in the evening and come back before the start of your workday the next morning.”

  “So what’s the point?”

  “The point,” he said, holding her hand up so he could kiss one fingertip at a time, thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring, pinkie. “The point is to give your brain a break. To recalibrate a little. Your home is your office, which means you’re never off work here. Not really.”

  Willa thought about that. She imagined the big, cushy bed and champagne in an ice-filled bucket and Stevie gobbling gourmet dog biscuits. “It sounds expensive.”

  “Money’s no object,” he said, and Willa tried not to wince. “Okay, money’s an object. But the manager’s a friend of mine, so I get a discount. What do you say?”

  Willa imagined giving herself over to a night of bliss and relaxation in a peaceful hotel suite with a down comforter and big windows looking out over the mountains. She imagined basking in the same relaxation she felt now, only better. No home office buzzing down the hall, no niggling worry that she should hustle back to her computer to check in on her accounts or send that RFP or—

  “What if I kidnapped you?” Grady asked, misreading her silence as reluctance. “Packed a bag for you, tied up your hands with a silk scarf, ushered you out into my car, and—”

  “When can we leave?” Willa asked.

  Grady looked down at her and started to laugh. “Anytime you want. Just say the word.”

  “Okay,” she said. Hearing hesitation in her voice, she tried again, more firmly this time. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Holy cow.” Willa turned a slow circle in the lobby while Grady watched, enchanted by the sight of her so completely awestruck. “This is unreal.”

  The tipped-back angle of her head left her hair trailing down her back as she surveyed the crystal chandeliers, the colorful murals, the fireplace surrounded floor to ceiling with smooth river rock. “It’s so beautiful.”

  “It is,” he agreed, not talking about the hotel at all.

  Her green eyes flashed as they met his, and it was all Grady could do not to reach for her. Not to devour her right there in the lobby.

  Stevie gave a soft “oof” and sniffed the air, eager for more of those fresh-baked dog biscuits the receptionist had tucked in their welcome bag. Willa twisted the leash around her wrist as she completed her survey of the space. “I’ve never stayed anyplace this fancy.”

  Grady smiled and pocketed their room key. “The lounge is downstairs. No live music tonight, but they’ve got a great happy hour if you’re interested.”

  She swung her gaze back to his, biting her lip. “You seriously get this for free?”

  He hadn’t said free, had he? He didn’t want to mislead her, but it was a pretty significant discount. “It’s a pretty great deal,” he said, not exactly lying. “Come on, let’s check out our room.”

  He led her to the bank of elevators off to the side and hit the button. The doors whooshed open, and they stepped inside with Stevie trotting beside them. Grady held the key card up to the sensor, and the doors closed behind them. “Going up,” announced the jaunty voice with the slightest hint of an English accent.

  Willa giggled beside him and shifted her shoulder bag. “I can’t believe you didn’t make a going down joke,” she said. “You must be maturing.”

  “Don’t count on it,” he said as he slid an arm around her waist.

  The doors opened again on the fifth floor, and he steered her toward the suite at the end of the hall. He’d paid extra for one of the nicest rooms, for the one with the view of the river and the park below. Just like he’d hoped, the curtains were open to frame the jaw-dropping views.

  “Oh my word.” She dropped Stevie’s leash and rushed toward the window, peering out like a kid looking for Santa on Christmas Eve. Grady had never seen her this joyful, this relaxed.

  “You can even see the mountains,” she said.

  Heart bursting with pleasure, he joined her at the window, resting a hand on the small of her back. “Looks like Stevie found his bed.”

  She turned in time to see the blind dog arranging himself on a plush pet bed lined in creamy faux fur. “How does he do that?” she asked. “Just knows right where the dog bed is, even though he can’t see?”

  Grady picked up a brochure off the dresser, skimming for details about the room. “It says here it’s filled with some sort of special stuffing laced with dog pheromones. Who knew that was a thing?”

  “Apparently the management team at The Hartford.” Willa glanced toward the huge king-size bed in the middle of the room. “Maybe they’ve filled our bed with the same stuff for humans.”

  Our bed.

  Grady liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot. />
  “Check out the dog bowls.” He pointed to the corner where two enamel bowls sat on a place mat labeled Stevie in bright-red letters. “They even gave us color-coordinated dog doo bags.”

  “You mean rich people don’t use gold-plated dog doo bags?”

  Grady laughed and set his duffel down on the dresser. He’d never stayed in this room before, but he did get a chance to sleep in one of the downstairs rooms once. Alone, for the record—a favor from his manager pal after Grady played a show in the bar and wound up with a rowdy guest spilling beer all over his guitar.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he ambled back toward the bed. “Wait till you see the pillow menu.”

  She turned to face him, her expression somewhere between incredulous and amused. “There’s a pillow menu?”

  “Two pages.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope.” He moved toward the nightstand and plucked the laminated brochure from its spot beside the lamp. “Do you prefer feather or goose down?”

  “I’ve never given it much thought.”

  He read through the descriptions, marveling at the level of detail. “Apparently the feathers offer slightly more support, while the down is fluffier.”

  “Good to know.” Abandoning her spot beside the window, Willa wandered toward him with her skirt fluttering behind her. That was her idea—a little dress-up to go with their fancy night on the town. She’d even fixed her hair in some sort of nifty braid that framed her face while the rest hung loose down her back, describing it to him in a fake French accent that made him laugh and pull her into his arms.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her arms as she studied him under her lashes. “We have more pillow options?”

  “Of course.” He scanned the menu for more intriguing descriptions. “How about hypoallergenic?”

  She laughed. “You saw me after a five-day work binge,” she said. “Clearly, hygiene is not my top priority.”

  “And your circus of trained dust mites is grateful for it.” He scanned his way down the menu, conscious of her bare legs crossing and uncrossing on the end of the bed. “How about buckwheat?”