by Tawna Fenske
“To sleep on or snack on?”
“Sleep. Apparently it’s made from the husks of buckwheat seeds,” he read. “Sounds very supportive.”
“Sounds very itchy.”
“Perhaps.” He trailed a thumb down the page. “They have an anti-aging pillow.”
“Stitched out of silk and fairy wings?”
He laughed and kept scrolling. “How about the lullaby pillow? You plug in your iPhone and music plays from these tiny speakers inside it.”
“I think I’d be a little creeped out by a pillow that sings to me.”
“How about a peppermint cooling gel pillow with memory foam?”
“Peppermint cooling gel?” She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like something you’d have the concierge bring up if you forgot your toothpaste.”
“Tatami?”
“Um—”
“‘A very firm, traditional pillow used for more than two thousand years in Japan,’” he read from the card. “It’s filled with tatami fibers that offer improved ventilation.”
“Does it come with a side of sashimi?” she asked. “Because sushi’s sounding pretty good right now.”
Grady glanced up from the menu. “You want to go to dinner?”
“Soon.” Willa uncrossed her legs, making her skirt ride up her thigh. He was pretty sure she’d done it on purpose. “We should definitely choose our pillows first.”
Her voice had turned breathy and flirtatious, leaving Grady with little doubt what she had in mind for pre-dinner activities. He moved closer, settling onto the bed beside her as he continued to scan the pillow menu.
“They’ve got body pillows to snuggle with, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
She smiled and unfastened the top button on her top. “I was sort of hoping you’d be taking care of that.”
Half the blood left his brain and traveled south as she crossed her legs again. The skirt slid up a couple more inches.
“How about a latex pillow?” His voice cracked a little as she undid another button on her blouse.
She laughed and put a hand on his thigh, gliding up and up and—
“In case we run out of condoms?”
Grinning, he tossed the menu aside and reached for her. “Not likely—I came prepared,” he said. “But I’m willing to give it a go if you are.”
With laughter dancing in her eyes and her hair floating around her, Willa dropped back onto the bed and pulled him down with her. “Let’s give it a try.”
…
Two hours later, they made their way down to the lobby. A mother and father with a young toddler stepped into the elevator on the third floor, joining them in the tiny space, and Grady wondered if the parents could tell he and Willa had just had headboard banging sex not ten minutes ago.
He smiled and squeezed her hand, and she glowed up at him like the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Thanks for this,” she murmured. “And for that.”
That. He squeezed her hand again, pretty damn grateful for that, too.
“Going down,” the automated voice announced, and Grady fought to keep a straight face. He loved that he and Willa had reached this point, that they had inside jokes that let them read each other’s thoughts without a word.
Maybe he hadn’t earned the right to call her his girlfriend—not yet, not quite—but wasn’t this almost the same thing?
“Lobby,” the voice announced, and Grady stepped aside to let the young family exit first. The dad rested his hand on the mother’s back to usher her out ahead of him, then turned back to hold a hand out for the toddler.
“Come on, Aidan.”
“Wait.” The little boy spun around at the threshold of the doors. “I forgot Gorilla.”
Grady glanced at the lump of brown fur in the corner. He started to reach for it as the little boy tripped and stumbled forward.
The mother gasped. “Oh my G—”
“Got him.” Grady slammed to his knees and opened his arms so the boy landed softly against his chest instead of face-first into the elevator wall.
“You okay?” Grady peeled the little guy off to inspect him for damage.
The boy’s brown eyes were wide with fear. “Uh-huh.”
The kid nodded, dazed but unscathed, so Grady reached for the stuffed animal. “Looking for this?”
The mother released a breath in a soft whoosh. “Thank God you were there,” she said. “What do you say, Aidan?”
“Thank you.” The kid took the stuffed animal by the arm and stuck his thumb into his mouth.
“You’re welcome.” Grady got to his feet and dusted off the knees of his pants. “Have a good night.”
When he looked at Willa, she was shaking her head. “I can’t figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“When you’re not jumping out of planes to stop forest fires, you’re either putting out restaurant fires or rescuing children,” she said. “Is there an off switch for the hero thing?”
Her awestruck tone made it a compliment, but something tightened in Grady’s chest. Did he have an off switch? Or would he drive himself into the ground the way his dad used to, taking everyone down with him?
Shaking off his fears, Grady slung an arm around her. “Maybe I’m bad luck,” he said. “Maybe I cause people to light restaurants on fire or fall face-first into floors.”
She looked up and smiled, which turned Grady’s guts into a puddle of goo. “That’s another thing I love,” she said. “You’re modest about it. You don’t turn into some chest-thumping alpha male with a hero complex.”
He tried to absorb the compliment, but his brain snagged somewhere back in the first part of the sentence.
Love.
She hadn’t said she loved him. Not even close, but for some reason that word kept pinging around in his brain like a handful of rubber balls.
“What are you smiling about?” Her eyes held his with curiosity, and he realized he was grinning like a big dork.
“You,” he said, because it was the simplest answer. “I’m glad we’re getting to do this. I’m glad Kayla said yes to feeding the cats and I’m glad you said yes to letting me kidnap you for the night.”
“Is it really kidnapping if I consented?”
“Not until I tie you up.” He grinned as the hostess approached. “We’ll save that for later,” he murmured in her ear.
He felt the shiver ripple up her bare arm as she followed the hostess to a quiet table in the corner. “Thank you,” she said as the woman handed her a menu, then offered one to Grady, along with the wine list.
Leaving his menus on the table, he watched Willa’s face as she surveyed the prices. She bit her lip, mossy eyes sweeping up one column and down the other. He braced for it, prepared for her to protest the high prices, to insist she only wanted a cup of soup.
Instead she set the menu down and smiled at him. “What are you getting?”
He hesitated. Was this a test?
The old Grady might have tried to impress her by suggesting a pricey bottle of wine, maybe recommending the lobster.
“Want to split an appetizer?” he suggested.
Her smile was tinged with relief and something else. Something that looked a little like the word that was still rubber-balling around in his brain.
Love.
No. That’s not what this was. Not yet. But eventually, maybe—
“I’d love to,” Willa said and reached across the table for his hand. “Calamari or bruschetta?”
“Calamari.” Grady set the menu down and folded both hands around hers. “It’s still happy hour, if you see any cocktails you like on that menu.” Good Lord, what had he come to? Here he was deliberately being a cheapskate to impress a woman.
It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and it sure as hell was easier on his
wallet.
“You can order off the regular menu, too,” he added quickly. “If you’d rather get—”
“No, this is perfect.” She set down her own menu and smiled. “I want to try that Secret Garden cocktail with the fresh basil and lime.”
“We’ll make it two.” He flagged down their server and placed the order, letting her know they needed a few more minutes to choose entrees.
“Take your time.” She set down two tall glasses of ice water and a bowl of fresh bread with truffle butter, then vanished back to the kitchen.
Willa reached across the table and skimmed a fingertip over the knuckles on his right hand. “Thank you, Grady.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.” He set his other hand on the table so she could touch that one, too. It felt good, that gentle touch, the delicate tickle of her fingertip.
“I just really appreciate this,” she said. “You bringing me here. Urging me to relax.”
“Is it working?”
She nodded, so beautiful in candlelight that Grady’s fingers clenched into his palms. “I think it is.”
“You’re not sure?”
She glanced down at their hands, considering her words. “I start to relax,” she said softly, fingertip pausing in the dip between his thumb and forefinger. “And then this voice in the back of my head starts whispering about how I haven’t saved enough. How I’m only one medical emergency away from financial ruin. Or if I lost a few clients or had an accident where I couldn’t work, I’d—I’d be destroyed.”
Grady said nothing, recognizing this was a big admission for her. Yeah, he knew she worked hard; he even had a loose grasp on the poverty behind it.
But he hadn’t understood the fear. Not really, not like this.
“That sounds terrifying,” he said.
She nodded, eyes sparkling with candlelight and maybe the faintest mist of tears. “It is,” she whispered. “I’m not proud of it, being scared all the time. Being so afraid of losing everything.”
Grady held very still. Her finger moved over the ridge of his knuckles, a slow, delicate bump and dip that sent a warm pulse of sensation up his forearms.
“You haven’t met my brother Jake yet, right?”
Willa shook her head. “He wasn’t at the barbecue, and I don’t think he was at the base when I visited.”
“Probably on a fire,” he said. “Anyway, he’s a year younger than me and he’s been married before.”
“But not anymore?”
Grady shook his head, hoping Jake would forgive him for sharing this story with Willa. His brother was a private sort of guy, but Grady knew without having to ask her that Willa wouldn’t tell a soul.
“Jake’s wife had an affair with some big-shot attorney in Portland.”
“That’s awful. Poor Jake.”
“It’s not uncommon in this line of work.” Grady’s vocal cords tightened, and he had to take a sip of water to keep going. “It’s tough on spouses left alone all the time.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, by the time Jake figured it out, they’d built this whole case against him for emotional neglect—he was gone a lot, obviously. Anyway, they cleaned him out.”
“Financially, you mean?”
“And emotionally. He had nothing left. No savings, he lost his house—hell, they even kept the dog.”
The horror filling Willa’s eyes almost took his breath away. “What did he do?”
“He suffered,” Grady said. “Drank too much, though I wouldn’t say he had a problem. He holed up in his shitty apartment and watched a lot of bad television. He cursed. He wallowed for a long damn time.” Grady licked his lips, conscious of Willa’s eyes on him. “And then he got back up and started again.”
Willa stared, waiting for more of the story. But that was it.
“That sounds…”
She couldn’t seem to find a word, so Grady supplied a few.
“Awful? Painful? Tough to watch and even tougher to go through?”
She nodded, hands balling together beside his. “Yes, all of that.”
“It was, but you know what?” He didn’t wait for a response. Just closed his hands around hers and kept going. “A couple of months ago, we got to talking. About life and setbacks and career choices. He told me he regrets nothing. That it sucked like you wouldn’t believe to have to start over like that, but he’s glad he did. That he likes his new life so much better than his old one, but he never would have known that if the rug hadn’t been yanked out from under him.”
Willa’s jaw clenched. “You’re saying I should start over?”
“Not at all.” Definitely not—he knew that wasn’t what she needed, or what she wanted to hear. “Just that you could, if you had to. And it would suck, don’t get me wrong, but maybe you’d find some silver linings.”
She held his gaze for a long, long time. “I’m not sure I could do that.”
“You wouldn’t want to, and I don’t blame you.” He held her gaze with his. “But you could do it. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed, and he could tell from her eyes that she was fighting to keep her emotions in check. “I don’t feel very strong sometimes.”
The waitress drifted over and set their cocktails down quickly. Seeming to sense it wasn’t the right time to interrupt, she hurried away.
Grady picked up his glass and lifted it in a toast to Willa. “You’re strong. So damn strong, I’m in awe of you most of the time.”
“Thank you.” She picked up her glass, too, and Grady clinked his against it. “Though I’m not sure you’re right.”
“I am. After all, you’ve resisted my relentless pursuit of multiple dates,” he teased as he took a sip of the cocktail. “That takes some fortitude.”
He expected a playful response. A joke about how he wasn’t terribly irresistible or that such resistance required good taste rather than strength.
But Willa bit her lip and held his gaze with hers. “Maybe I’m tired of resisting.”
Her voice was halfway between a flirty murmur and a grave confession, so he thought he’d heard her wrong at first. “Are you considering—?” Hell, what was he trying to ask? “Are you suggesting I’ve broken down your defenses?”
She laughed and shook her head. “You didn’t break anything,” she said. “Well, maybe the headboard in our room.”
Grady grinned. “Nothing a little superglue can’t fix.”
“Right.” Willa sipped her drink, then set the glass down beside the untouched bread basket. “My defenses are still intact. But maybe—maybe—I’m open to letting them down willingly. If you still want to, I mean.”
“You’re saying—” He stopped himself, not wanting to say the words out loud. He’d already put himself out there with her and still wasn’t sure where they stood.
“I’m saying I’d like to make it official.” Her smile was tentative but so damn sweet. “Dating. Boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. Whatever you want to call it.”
She laughed, such a sweet sound. But there was fear in it, and in her eyes, too. It was mixed with hope and so much affection that he couldn’t see straight, but the fear wasn’t gone.
He set down his glass and squeezed her hands between his again. “We can take it slowly,” he assured her, careful to keep his voice even. To keep from jumping up onto the fucking table and shouting in celebration. “However many dates you’re comfortable with, whatever you want to label this thing between us—you can call the shots.”
She nodded and gave him a shaky, fearful smile. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it. Let’s date. For real, I mean. No more of these fake dates or dates that don’t really count.” She smiled bigger then, squeezing his hand. “I want it to count, Grady.”
“God,” he breathed. “So do I.”
He let go of her hands and drew her
close, kissing her for as long as he dared in a public place. When he drew back, they were both breathing hard.
“We could skip dinner,” he began.
“No, let’s not.” Willa smiled. “Let’s call this a practice date.”
“Deal.” Grady lifted his glass again, and Willa did the same. They clinked together with a sharp ting that echoed through the restaurant. The sound of celebration. Of hope and promise and good things to come.
Chapter Eighteen
“When does Grady come back?”
Kayla lifted her feet out of the basin of warm water as the nail tech began toweling her calves with a fluffy white towel.
The three of them were enjoying pedicures—Kayla’s idea—at the beauty college with discounted services from student nail techs—Willa’s idea—to celebrate Kayla landing a big new photography client.
“Friday.” Willa tapped a button on the massage chair so the kneading knobs would move up and down her spine instead of punching her in the kidneys. “As soon as he gets into town, he’s coming over with dinner from that fancy new personal chef service. I guess it’s right by his house? Anyway, we’ll eat together at my place, and then we’re going to a star show at the planetarium.”
“The star show?” Kayla gaped at her. “The one you’ve wanted to see for eons?”
“That’s the one.” She was trying to keep her voice from sounding too excited and failing miserably. “I don’t know why I never went before, but I’m excited to see it now.”
She didn’t know why she hadn’t gone before, but it could be any number of reasons. Too expensive? Too much of an unnecessary indulgence? Too much of a reminder of her father and how he’d always promised to take her, someday, eventually, when money wasn’t so tight?
Why the hell had she held out this long?
She said none of this out loud, but the curious way her friends watched her seemed like odds were good they’d heard her anyway.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Aislin said. “But this sounds like a date.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Willa couldn’t help the grin spreading over her face as she swished her feet through the warm water.
“So it is a date?” Leave it to Aislin to want it carved in stone.