by A. J. Pine
Eyes closed again, he reached for the pillow next to his to shield his eyes from the sunlight poking through his blinds. But the pillow didn’t budge. He forced his eyes open again and turned to his side and, world’s worst hangover or not, Jeremy scrambled off the edge of his bed—and thanks to a lack of depth perception in his current state, knocked his head on the window frame.
“Jesus!” he yelled.
Grace—the reason for the immovable pillow—stirred and rolled in his direction. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled.
“Morning,” she said groggily. Then her brow furrowed as she finally took him in where he stood flush against the windowed wall. “What are you doing?”
He must have looked like some idiotic cat burglar wannabe, an almost-naked cat burglar wannabe, his arms at his sides, palms flush against the wall.
“Did we?” he asked. “I mean, did I?” He shook his head. “Christ, Grace, what did we do? Did I just cost you twenty-five grand?”
Shit. It’s not like he hadn’t fantasized multiple times about his first time with Grace. For him it wasn’t an if but a when, and he’d hoped she felt the same. But like the asshole frat boy he’d acted like last night—polishing off a bottle of wine and then walking until he hit the nearest establishment that served alcohol—he couldn’t fucking remember if he and Grace had already had their first time.
She chewed on her top lip, and he swore she was biting back a smile, but he couldn’t find the humor in the situation.
She lowered the blanket, and he actually shielded his eyes. Oh how far he had fallen from the man he used to be.
“Jeremy.” She was laughing. He could hear it, but he was still afraid to look. “Jeremy Denning, uncover your eyes.”
He lowered his arms and let out a breath. There she was, her hair beautifully sleep tousled. And she smiled at him like, well, like he was slightly crazy. But still, she was smiling. And she was also fully clothed.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” she said. She sat up and turned toward the nightstand and then back to where Jeremy was still frozen against the wall. She held up a glass of water. “I was having trouble falling asleep last night, so I got you a refill in case you needed it.” She grinned. “You look like you need it.”
He took a tentative step toward the bed, then remembered how unbelievably sick he’d felt minutes ago and sat down on the edge of the mattress before either his knees gave out or his stomach decided to revolt.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting her offering. His mouth tasted like he’d licked roadkill, but he downed the water just the same. He let his head fall back against the headboard and closed his eyes.
“That bad, huh?” she asked.
He gave her a slow nod, and as he sat there, random scraps of the night before started piecing themselves together in his head like a puzzle.
“We never had that date, yet I wake up with you in my bed. The details between the Facebook post and right now, though, are a little fuzzy.”
He was barely on the bed, one foot still on the floor as he tried to balance and fight the pounding in his head. He felt her hand on his as she gave him a soft tug.
“You need some greasy food, and you need more sleep,” she said. “Are you working today?”
He nodded again, eyes still squeezed shut. “Not until four. I’m closing…if I’m alive by then.” He tilted his head toward her and blinked. “I don’t think eating is in the cards for me just yet.”
She pulled on his hand again. “Then lie down.”
He wasn’t going to argue. He could barely hold up his head. So he climbed the rest of the way into the bed and pulled the comforter up to his waist. But he wasn’t quite ready to sleep.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
Grace lay back down so they were facing each other now. She skimmed her fingers through his hair, and he pressed his cheek into her palm.
“I know you saw the post. I came here to apologize. And to explain, even if it meant I messed things up for us before they really began.” She sighed. “Did I?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that easy to get rid of me. Unless I propose and you turn me down.” He closed his eyes and swore under his breath. “Not that I’m proposing. God, it’s like I’ve lost my damn mojo around you. You’ve killed my swagger.”
She raised a brow. “Swagger?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You think I can’t pull off swagger?”
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, which basically rendered him mute.
“Does this mean you’re willing to hear my story about last night? And maybe forgive me?”
“Does it mean I get to lie here with you for a little longer if I do?”
She nodded.
“Deal,” he said.
She trailed her fingers through his hair again, and he swore if she kept this up it wouldn’t matter what she said. Because nothing felt better than her touch. And as much as he wanted more, right now was absolute perfection.
Minus the hangover. Fuck. Had he promised he’d never drink again?
“When we got off the phone the other night, after, you know…”
Her pale skin flushed, and Jeremy loved that just talking about what they’d done could do that to her. He couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah. I know.”
“Mark, my ex, called.”
She chewed on her top lip, and Jeremy’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.
“I need to tell you more about our history. I need you to know why I couldn’t say no to meeting up with him last night.”
Jeremy’s jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard against his still-dehydrated tongue.
“You can tell me anything, Grace,” he said, keeping his tone even. He had no reason not to trust her, but he had every reason in the world to distrust the asshole who stole her savings.
She hooked her pinkie through his and forced a smile. Jeremy pressed his lips together and nodded, preparing for the worst.
“The reason I can’t go after Mark about the money—about why I can’t let my parents know what a jerk he turned out to be—is because Mark could ruin my father. He could ruin their whole practice. I know you don’t follow the Chicago legal circuit, but my parents are those big-city lawyers whose cases make the news. They’re huge, which is great for them, but it also makes them vulnerable to public opinion. And as much as I’ve always hated the stress my parents put on public appearance, I get it when it comes to their careers.”
Jeremy leaned up on his elbow. “Whitney said he worked for them. Why would he ruin them? How could he ruin them? Doesn’t it benefit him not to?”
Grace blew out a shaky breath and stared for a second at their intertwined fingers.
“Maybe he’s bluffing. But that’s just it. He bluffs for a living, and he’s like some minor-league poker player or whatever, which basically just makes him impossible to read—and which also made me believe he had the whole gambling thing under control. I obviously misread him, but I see who he is now. The point is, he knows about my dad’s shoulder surgery from last year—and how he had to go back into the hospital for physical therapy soon after.”
She made air quotes around the words “physical therapy” and Jeremy’s brows drew together.
Grace groaned. “My dad developed a dependency on his prescription painkillers and had to do a brief inpatient detox program. He checked himself in as soon as he realized what was going on. It was barely a blip on the radar but…”
Jeremy pulled her hand close and kissed it hard.
“But if his clients knew, he could lose them.”
She nodded. “If anyone in the legal world knew—if it came out in the awful way Mark would spin it—it could end their practice.”
He shook his head. “Okay, but wouldn’t that ruin his career, too?”
This time she shook her head. “Are you kidding? He’s a rising star in the legal community right now. If the practice imploded, he’d scoop up as much clientele from the fallout as he could. I don’t th
ink he wants that, though. He wants partner…” She trailed off.
“And he wants you,” Jeremy added.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “I always thought it was just my mom fueling the possibility of a reconciliation, that there was no way he could have done what he did and still care about me, but apparently my staying quiet keeps that on the table for him, too.”
Jeremy burned with anger. “And that asshole is holding all of this over you? Grace. That’s blackmail.” He let out a bitter laugh. “People actually operate like that in real life? That’s not just television bullshit?”
“I know what blackmail is.” Her eyes were alight with something fierce. “It’s my life, Jeremy. It’s my family. And it’s very, very real. I’m not asking you to understand. I’m just asking you to see things from my perspective and know that I had to see him last night. And until I figure a way out of this that doesn’t involve throwing my father under the bus, I have to keep quiet.”
His eyes widened. “What if you didn’t have to worry about any of this reality TV or social media bullshit? Then we could focus on figuring out the Mark situation and putting that asshole in his place.”
Grace shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Jeremy knew he was treading on thin ice, but he’d risk bruising her ego if it meant helping her out of what seemed like an impossible situation.
“What if—what if I gave you the money?” She opened her mouth, surely to protest, but he kept talking. “I have it. I could give you the seed money for your shop, and we could get you out of your contract. I could talk to Whitney. And then we figure out how to deal with Mark. We, Grace. We’re a we now. Do you get that?”
Just then someone’s fist pounded against his front door. And quite possibly inside Jeremy’s head. Or maybe that was the pounding he wanted to give this asshole for messing with Grace. He squeezed his eyes shut and fell back against his pillow.
“Make it go away,” he said as the sound continued. No one ever showed up at his door without warning. People didn’t do that. Okay, Whitney did that, but she was Whitney. And as much as he had forgotten about the night before, he did remember asking her to leave.
It wasn’t her. But then who the hell else gave two shits about him in the middle of a Monday morning?
“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” he pleaded, knowing he hadn’t said any of the right things, yet wanting somehow to fix this for her. “I’ll be right back.”
She released his pinkie and let out a breath.
The pounding continued, and he swore under his breath as he swung his legs off the bed and forced himself upright again. He didn’t even bother to throw on his jeans. Fuck it. Whoever wanted to drag him out of bed this morning would have to deal with him like this.
He ran a hand through his hair, which felt like it had a mind of its own, and decided to avoid any mirrors on his way toward the incessant pounding.
“All right!” he called as he padded toward the door. “Just. Stop. Banging.”
He threw the door open, and his heart leaped.
“Did we wake you? Shit, we woke you!”
A petite redhead stood before him in a black leather jacket, jeans, and a T-shirt that said my favorite workout is heavy reading. Next to her was Wes, her fiancé—and Jeremy’s oldest friend.
“Annie! What the hell are you doing here?” He scooped his sister into a hug, forgetting his lack of attire until Wes—Mr. Fiancé—cleared his throat.
“I can see not much has changed since we saw you in June,” Wes mused, but then offered his hand to Jeremy for a hearty shake. “I’d do the whole hugging thing,” he added, “but you’re naked, man.”
Jeremy laughed and ignored the bitter taste in his mouth from his friend’s comment. Not the naked part. He was fine with that. Because a lot had changed, but he felt too much like shit to argue.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” he asked. “I didn’t expect to see you until Brynn and Jamie’s wedding.”
Annie pushed past him and pulled Wes into the apartment as well.
“Surprise!” she called over her shoulder. “Wes had a break in his book tour, and we decided we didn’t want to do our tux and dress fittings over email. So here we are!”
Jeremy followed them to the couch, where Wes collapsed and pulled Annie down to his lap.
“She didn’t want to do fittings over email,” Wes said. “I was totally fine with that. But lucky us. We’re heading to the formal wear store today.”
Jeremy lowered himself into the chair opposite them. After not seeing his sister and Wes for three months, it was jarring to see them again as a couple, even though they were getting married next year.
He scrubbed a hand across his jaw.
“When you say we, Hartley, you mean you and my sister, right?”
Annie grinned and shook her head. “Get dressed, little brother. Brynn and Jamie are meeting us at the store in an hour.” She looked him up and down. “By the way, sweetie, you look like shit. Rough night?”
“Hey, Jeremy? I’m gonna head out.”
Grace emerged from the bedroom hallway.
Shit. He’d left her there this whole time.
Annie’s eyes widened as she hopped up from the couch. “You have company,” she said to him before turning toward his guest. “I’m Annie,” she said, rounding the couch and approaching the startled-looking Grace. “Jeremy’s sister.”
The two women shook hands, and things started to click in Jeremy’s slow-clearing head.
“You know,” he said, pointing at Wes.
Wes laughed and shrugged. “You thought you could keep this from your sister? The woman lives on social media while we’re gone.”
Jeremy let his head fall back against the chair.
“Grace, Annie. Annie, Grace—the woman I’m crazy about.”
He heard a tiny gasp and wasn’t sure if it came from his sister or Grace. Either way, she knew now how he felt, that her baggage changed nothing.
Shit.
It changed nothing.
Who the hell was this guy, and what had he done with the Jeremy who was only interested in fun, who didn’t risk anything, let alone getting his heart obliterated again?
Right. He was head over heels in love with this woman, and he realized it didn’t matter that he hadn’t wanted to let that happen again after his history with Whitney. Because he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He loved Grace, and the feeling was unavoidable and undeniable.
He peeked at the two women still standing by the door. Grace was biting her lip but smiling, and Annie was doing some sort of ridiculous happy dance that was way too enthusiastic for his hangover.
“Finally,” she said, pulling Grace with her back into the living room. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Grace stared at a less hungover and ridiculously dashing Jeremy in a tux. It was simple. Black with a white bow tie. But to see him in it… Grace wasn’t sure how she’d get through the next eight weeks not only imagining him in it, but also out of it.
“What’s that look?” he asked.
Brynn was busy in a separate dressing area with Jamie, and Wes had had his tux fitted first. So it was just the two of them once the tailor made a few chalk marks on Jeremy’s jacket, which meant Grace could ogle without an ounce of apprehension.
She stood from the chair she’d been waiting in and approached him slowly. When she was close enough to touch, she did. Just the bow tie at first, pretending that she was straightening it, though he’d tied it perfectly.
“Where did you learn to tie one of these?” she asked. “Wear a lot of tuxedoes when I’m not looking?”
He laughed, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her hands.
“Don’t laugh,” he said, and her hands slid to his chest, palms splayed over his jacket. “But I borrowed my dad’s wedding tuxedo—which, yes, he still has—to ask my girlfriend to prom senior year.”
She giggled at the thought of seventeen-ye
ar-old Jeremy as such a romantic.
“You’re laughing,” he said, brows raised.
“Not at you,” she insisted. “I’m just a little floored by your adorableness, is all.”
“You see?” he said. “No one calls me adorable. You’re completely killing the swagger.”
But he was smiling as he pulled one of her palms to his lips and brushed a soft kiss against her skin. Every nerve ending in her body lit up, and she swore she was sparkling like a Christmas tree.
“You cannot be for real,” she said, voice breathy with a new sort of need. Yes, she wanted Jeremy—physically and emotionally. But she realized now it was so much more than want.
“One hundred percent pure me,” he said. “No additives or preservatives. Just be careful, though. Means I’m perishable.”
He was grinning, but she felt the note of truth in his words. He hadn’t let himself be vulnerable with any other woman since Whitney. And here he was, relinquishing his heart to her.
“Adorableness and lack of swagger aside,” she said, “we need to finish our conversation.”
He sighed. “Serious talk. Okay.”
“I can’t take your money, Jeremy. It’s a very sweet offer, and it means the world to me…”
“I sense a but coming next.”
She nodded. “But, I have to figure this out on my own—the financial part, at least. I knew about Mark’s gambling, and I looked the other way because I thought he had it under control, that that part of his life wouldn’t intersect with our life. But it did. I know what he did wasn’t my fault, but turning a blind eye to his problems? That was. I’m starting to see clearly, and I know I’ll figure this out. I just need more time. Can you live with that?”
He wrapped her tightly in his arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck.
“You heard what I said, right?” His lips brushed her skin as he spoke, and she swore there was no better feeling. “We’re a we. An us. However you need to do this, I’m on board. End of story.”
He lifted his head so his eyes met hers, and all she wanted was to lose herself in what she saw as unconditional adoration. No other man had ever looked at her like that.