by Toni Aleo
I’ve heard that before, but I doubt he means it the way I would want him to. Wait, do I even want him to mean it that way? No, we’re fucking. We’re having fun. Guys don’t stay. That’s fine.
I’m good.
When we make it inside, I rush to take a shower and throw up some more. I don’t know what exactly I’m doing. I’ve got those stupid butterflies in my gut, and they don’t make sense. I’ve known the guy for ten minutes. We’re gonna bang, and then he’ll be gone. That’s how it works with guys like him. While he is funny and has been a good time, he is stupid rich. He can have anyone; he doesn’t want me. I live with my brother, and I may have separation anxiety where he’s concerned. James wouldn’t want that.
When I come out of the bathroom, I’m in only a towel. James is lying on my bed, his shoes on the floor by the side with his coat on the back of a chair that sits in the corner. He moves his eyes up my legs, over my towel, and then they meet mine, a small little smirk on his lips. “Feel better?”
I nod. “Loads.”
He points to the bedside table, and I smile. “Water and crackers for my lushy lush.”
I walk over to them, throwing a few crackers into my mouth as I lean my thigh into the bed. “Give me a few, and I’ll be ready.”
He brings his brows in. “Ready?”
I give him a goofy grin. “Yeah. I gotta recharge.”
“For what?”
My grin falls. “Seriously? You want me to say it? You into that? Dirty talk?”
He chuckles lightly, his eyes focused on mine. “I mean, I love me some dirty talk, but I’m honestly confused.”
I shoot him an incredulous look. “Sex, James. Sex.”
He seems a little taken aback as he shakes his head. “Oh. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Wait, what?”
“I think you need your rest.”
“Then why are you here?”
“You asked me not to leave,” he says, like it’s that simple.
I blink as he gets up, coming around the bed to my dresser. “Do you have PJs in here?”
I’m still just blinking as he gestures to a drawer. “Yes, and panties.”
He grabs both and then comes back to me. He puts my pajama shirt over my head and smiles. “*NSYNC fan?”
I shrug as I look down at my fantastic *NSYNC concert tee. Shea has a matching one, much to his dismay. “They’re boy wonders. They’re gonna do big things.”
“Yeah, like go to jail. All those child stars do,” he throws back at me before pulling off my towel since my T-shirt covers most of my thighs. He hands me my panties, and I put them on as he goes into the bathroom. When he comes back into the bedroom, he reaches for the remote off the top of the TV and gets back in the bed. He pulls the blankets back for me, and I get in with my water cup and a handful of crackers.
“Well, at one a.m., I’m pretty sure Golden Girls is on.”
I quirk my mouth at the side. “I think so.”
He finds it on the TV, and when he lays down the remote, I look back at him. He smiles before reaching up, cupping my jaw as his thumb moves along my lip. “You all right?”
I nod. “Fine.”
“Great. Lie back, relax. You really need to rest.”
“I’m a bit embarrassed.”
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t be. I just know next time to watch your wine intake.”
I smile. “So, there will be a next time?”
He chuckles. “Oh, Grace. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
His words repeat over and over again in my head, and inside my wine-soaked brain, his words scare the living hell out of me.
And I’m unsure what that means.
April 13th
“Mom, stop crying.”
I shake my head as my mom dabs at her tears, watching as Shea skates onto the ice. He looks amazing in his dark-purple jersey, the number six on his back, big and white. His name is bold on the back of the jersey and demands attention, and like my mom, I am more than proud of him. But I’m not going to cry.
“He looks damn good,” Dad says, leaning on the edge of the box we are in.
James’s box.
The past two weeks have been a bit of a blur. I work constantly and so does he, but we find time for each other. I find that he likes to talk on the phone, something I’m not a fan of, but I do because I like to talk to him. He’ll call me on his lunch break or whenever he isn’t swamped with clients. He says it’s to talk about the many stagings I am doing for him, but we never actually talk about work. We talk about everything else, though. Our favorite foods—which we’ve both decided is pizza. Ham and pineapple, to be exact. Our favorite movies—mine is The Cutting Edge, while he is a huge fan of Dead Poets Society. He’s so damn brilliant, and he’s a beast at his job. I heard him on the phone once, and he closed a deal in two minutes flat. He’s just amazing. I love listening to him, and he is so funny. Or, better yet, he’s a huge dork who makes me laugh at every turn.
I’ve never dated someone like him. Wait. That sentence doesn’t make sense because I’m not even sure we’re technically dating or if we’re just hanging out. Usually, I date the stern, sexy-as-hell guys who rock my world in bed but also mindfuck me into thinking I’m not enough. James isn’t like that. He’s goofy and fun, and we haven’t had sex yet, which is absolutely bizarre to me. We’ve had plenty of chances, but he hasn’t made a move. He’s cautious, and the whole thing about me making him nervous is true. I didn’t want to believe it, but I can tell that I affect him. I’m unsure how that makes me feel. Do I like it? Do I hate it? I really just don’t know about him altogether. I’m uncertain. It’s weird.
And scary.
I lean on the edge with my dad, looking out at the ice as Shea takes the puck back into the zone. His eyes are constantly moving, and while I may not be able to see his face clearly from here, I know that’s what is happening. He’s waiting for his forwards so they can set up a play. As I suspected, he skates up, dropping the puck behind him to Welch before both of them enter the zone. The forwards wait, and once they cross the line, they join. Welch passes it to number twelve, who passes it to thirty-seven as Shea goes to the line. He’s poised, waiting for that one-timer.
I hold my breath. I feel it coming.
Thirty-seven passes it hard to Welch, who doesn’t even keep it on his stick for more than two seconds before passing it to Shea. He rears back, putting his whole body into the motion before he slams his stick into the puck. I don’t know why people try to stand in front of that frozen piece of rubber. I know they want to stop it, but I, for one, would run and hide when I saw that sucker coming off Shea Adler’s stick. When the puck slams into the back of the net, everyone in the building loses their shit. Especially my family. Dad hugs me, while Mom hugs us from the back. The music blares, the crowd screams, and there is a sense of euphoria bubbling inside me. I know Shea was nervous, and to see him score, man, I’m proud as hell of that guy.
It’s his first goal as an Assassin, and Mom and Dad were here for it!
What a rush!
When a hand comes to my shoulder, I turn around to find James. His hair is brushed to the side, and he’s wearing a purple button-down with an Assassins pin on the pocket. His gray dress pants hug his legs and ass, and when our eyes meet, my heart starts to race.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he says softly, a grin pulling at his lips. “Funny seeing you here.”
I smile. “Yeah, a friend had a box he offered to my family and me tonight.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, heard Shea Adler might buy this box off him.”
“No way.”
“Yup, wants a place for his family. But I hear the guy who owns it now gets to come in anytime he wants.”
“Well, that’s good,” I say as my mom and dad both stand. I hold my hand out to James. “Mom, Dad, this is James Justice. This is his box. James, these are my parents, Jenna and Mark.”
Jame
s shakes both of their hands. “It’s wonderful to meet y’all.”
“You too,” Mom says, and I don’t miss the way she’s checking him out. Knowing her, she’s already planning our wedding and how many kids we’ll have.
“The real estate guy, right? Owns most of Nashville?” Dad asks, shaking James’s hand.
With a modest smile, James laughs. “Maybe half of most.”
We all laugh at that.
Mom locks her hand with mine. “And how do you know Grace?”
James isn’t stupid and catches on to what my mom is saying right off the bat. “She’s done stagings for some properties of mine. Plus, Shea and I are good friends.”
Mom isn’t derailed at all. “Oh, that’s all?”
James flashes her a swoon-worthy grin. “I’m also trying to get her to be mine, but she’s a tough one.”
Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?
Dad snorts as I glare. “Yup. Hope you’re a patient guy.”
“Mark!”
“Dad!”
“What? It’s the truth,” Dad says with a shrug before sitting down to watch the game.
An awkward silence falls between us, and I can’t believe James said that. He hasn’t made any moves toward making me his. What the crap?
Mom looks to me and then James before she flashes that Adler smile. Shea looks so much more like her than I do. She squeezes James’s arm before winking. “You can come sit right next to me.”
“I’d love that.” James holds his arm out, and Mom takes it for the very short walk back to our seats. I’m left standing there like an idiot as I gawk at him. Where does he get off saying that?
Once Mom is sitting, James looks back at me. “Hey, Grace.” I just stare at him, but apparently he finds this all hilarious. “You look really pretty, like always.”
“Isn’t she gorgeous? She gets that from my side of the family.”
Dad chortles. “Ha. Isn’t that the damn truth.”
Mom wiggles happily in her seat as James says, “I have to say, the man who gets to love Grace for the rest of his life will be one lucky guy if she ages even half as well as you have.”
Mom swoons. Hell, I may swoon a bit. “I think I love him,” she says.
Everyone laughs. Even I do as I go around Dad, lowering myself into my seat. I honestly don’t know why I sit between Mom and Dad, though, because for the rest of the first period, neither of my parents is watching the game. Nope, they’re too busy talking with James. He’s so animated when he speaks with them. It’s a new side of him I haven’t seen. I like it. A lot.
I get up to get a drink and make a plate of food once intermission starts. As I’m loading up my plate with the yummy pasta salad and ribs, I pause when a hand comes to my waist. I glance up to find James looking down at me with those devastating brown eyes. “Hey, you.”
“You,” I say with my eyes in little slits.
“You’re annoyed?”
“Somewhat.”
“For what I said?”
“Yup.”
“It’s true.”
“It is not,” I say, turning to face him. “We’ve been talking for the last two weeks. Nothing more. You haven’t made any advances at all, so I don’t know why you said that. You haven’t even acted like you want to date me.”
His face doesn’t change, but his eyes do. Exasperation flashes in his eyes as his voice drops down an octave. “Well, that’s a lie. I think my intentions are pretty straightforward. You just choose to ignore them.”
“That’s not true.”
“Grace, I tell you every day how gorgeous you are. When I’m with you, I’m basically worshiping you. When I do get a chance to see you, touch you, I’m so scared I’ll mess it up that I’m beyond cautious. I try to seduce you with my awkwardness because you make me so nervous, I don’t know how to be any other way. I get it. I’m not humping your leg and grabbing your boobs at every turn, which maybe is how most guys get your attention, but Grace, that’s not how I work. I think of you constantly. I enjoy talking to you more than I do working, and man, I want you. Desperately.”
Desperately.
My jaw drops open slightly as I gaze up at him. I swallow hard before I whisper, “Oh.”
“Yeah.” He takes a step forward before clasping my waist in his hands. “I want you.”
“Oh.”
“To be mine. But also in a very dirty way,” he whispers, and my lips curve a bit.
“Well, that’s nice to know.”
His eyes search mine. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Why?”
“Can I take you on a date?”
I blink, and damn it, my heart sings. “Yes. Where are we going?”
He shakes his head. “Just wear a pretty dress, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Just wear a pretty dress, and he’ll take care of the rest.
Sounds like an awesome R&B song…
But apparently it’s the start of something I’m not sure I want.
April 14th
I thought Shea’s place was ritzy when I first saw it, but it doesn’t come close to James’s. I thought when he told me to wear a pretty dress that we would be going out to a fancy dinner and maybe back to the club where we first hung out. I assumed that to be true even more when he got out of the car in a stylish and expensive suit that hugged his body in the most mouthwatering way. To my surprise, though, James took me back to his condo.
“This is snazzy.”
James rests his hand on my back, leading me in through the door the doorman had opened for us. “Mr. Justice.”
“Hey, Reggie.” He kisses my temple. “I’ve only lived here a year, but I love it. I showed it to Shea, and he said it was out of his price range. I was like, dude, you make millions. You can afford it. He declined, so I bought it for myself.”
I snort. “I know you’re loaded, James. You don’t need to remind me,” I tease, and he grins.
“How else can I get you to stay when I know you were expecting some luxurious dinner and clubbing?”
I feign surprise. “I was not. I thought maybe we’d go to McDonald’s.”
“In that dress and those shoes? Please.” I giggle as he kisses my temple once more before we ride up in the elevator. “By the way…”
I glance up at him. “Yeah?”
“You look really, really hot tonight.”
My face warms as my heart races at full speed in my chest. I’m glad he noticed the skintight, spicy-red dress I’m wearing. It hugs my ass impeccably, and my breasts look twice their cup size. My hair is up, showing my neck and giving him the perfect access. I did a dark smoky eye and bright-red lips. I might have spent most of the afternoon getting ready. For him. Not reading into that either.
“You do too.”
Heat surrounds us, and the air crackles. I feel it on every nerve ending in my body. His eyes are so dark, and I feel a flush burning my skin under his gaze. God, I hope he’s ready to get some sexy time going tonight. Because I sure as hell am. He leans in, his lips coming for mine, and I close my eyes as I meet him in the middle. I melt into the kiss as his fingers tangle in my hair. He pulls me closer, his lips like velvet against mine, and I can feel our hearts beating out of control. When the ding of the elevator sounds, we pull apart, both of us breathing hard.
“Okay, you,” he says with a pointed finger.
“Me?”
“You. Trouble,” he says on an exhale. “Come on. I have a surprise for you.”
My grin is wide as he takes my hand, leading me off the elevator. “You never did tell me where you were today. I called you three times to bitch about Jackie. She told me the blue I picked you’d hate, and I was like, um, no, he loved it.”
He smirks. “We all know I like what you like. She just says that because she doesn’t like us dating.”
I perk my brow. “She doesn’t?”
“No, she’s jealous. She wanted to date me when we first met. B
ut yeah, no way.”
I smirk. “Why not? Not attracted to her?”
His gaze darkens as it meets mine. “I’m only attracted to a stunning, blue-eyed beauty with dark hair and a sharp tongue.”
“Well then, I’m not your type,” I tease, and he laughs. Loudly with a bit of exaggeration. I giggle as we reach his door. As he unlocks it, I ask, “But really, where were you?”
“You’ll see,” he says, pushing the door open. He holds it open for me, and I walk in. I want to say I had time to take in the majestic floor-to-ceiling glass windows or even the amazing tile or the fantastic marble backsplash in his kitchen, but I was too awestruck by the hundreds of roses filling the whole penthouse condo. On the table are lit pillar candles, covering most of the surface. In the middle of the table is a large pizza that I’m pretty sure is ham and pineapple. Two wineglasses sit next to two large silver domes, but around the domes are little KitKats.
My favorite things.
I blink a few times before I look at him. His face is handsome, so bright with excitement. “I know what you’re thinking. Wow, James is amazing. But you just wait,” he says in a teasing tone. He takes my hand, pulling me with him to the table. He reaches for the dome and lifts it to reveal a bowl of what I assume is chowder.
“Chowda?”
His eyes fill with excitement. “I was hoping the Boston would come out full force when you asked,” he says happily. “But yes, I flew to Boston, went to the Summer Shack since you said it was your favorite, and brought it back.”
Shit, am I about to cry?
“You flew to Boston? To the Summer Shack?”
“You said the other day you were missing it.”
He remembered that? I blink back the tears as I take in everything once more. “You did all this for me?”
When I look back to him, his eyes are so certain as he lifts his shoulder, and a small, shy smile covers his lips. “I’ll do pretty much anything for you.”
A second passes, maybe three, as we stare into each other’s eyes. I look away, unsure how to react to this. Who does this? I resort to my playful self to hide the fact that I am swooning inside, and also, that I may cry. “James! Don’t say that. Don’t you know that if I ever commit murder, I know I have someone to take the blame?”