The Kiss That Launched 1,000 Gifs

by Sheralyn Pratt

  Grace tried to laugh through the tension. “You mean you still wouldn’t think to sit down and talk about how you really like her and want the two of you to be exclusive?”

  He shook his head. “Not at that point. Not if she’s kissing some other dude and is totally cool with it. At that point, I’d be done. She could have Mr. First Date.”

  “Totally with you, man!” a male voice called out on the other side of Beth’s phone. Only then did Ashton’s mouth curve up.

  “Sounds like you have some damage control to do, Beth,” he said, leaning forward and giving his stress ball a slow, almost sensual squeeze. “A word of advice?”

  Beth cleared her throat. “Uh, sure?”

  “If this date you went on was a passive-aggressive ploy to try to get your boyfriend to show how much he cares about you, then you need to own up to it and apologize. But if you really do want to date others at this point, then you need to own up to that too and let the cards fall where they may. But don’t pretend the person in the relationship who assumed exclusivity because of how much time you’ve spent together and how physical you’ve been is the stupid or naive one at this point. Most men speak with their actions, not their words. So if a man is showing you fidelity, then guess what, in his mind the two of you are exclusive. And if you need to hear those words from him, then bring the subject up and ask. Don’t go out with another man and see how mad your boyfriend gets. Everyone loses when you play games like that.”

  Well, crap. That was kind of a great point. Grace was trying to think up a good counterpoint when Beth laughed.

  “So, as always, it falls on the woman to always make the move to bring a relationship to the next level,” she said.

  “Define ‘next level,’” Ashton countered. “Are you the one who asked your boyfriend out on your first date?”

  “Well, uh, not exactly,” Beth replied.

  “And you’re the one who paid for the dates? You’re the one who planned them?”

  “I did for two of them!”

  “And you drove?”

  “Well, no—”

  “And you’re the one who leaned in for that first kiss?”

  “I waited for him to do that the first time, but I’ve leaned in first plenty of times since then.”

  Ashton took a breath and shook his head. “But you’re sitting here telling me that your boyfriend hasn’t sent you any signals that he’s on a level with you that he isn’t on with any other woman. And I’m telling you, that if you look at his actions, you’ll see exactly where you are with him.”

  “I take it back,” the male voice on the other side of the phone called out. “Calling this show wasn’t the stupidest idea ever.”

  “You have a small window to fix things with your boyfriend, Beth,” Ashton said, using his sensitive voice. “I suggest you hang up with us now and use it.”

  “I still don’t agree with you,” Beth said defiantly.

  “You don’t have to,” Ashton said a little too kindly. “You just need to choose what you want more: your pride or your boyfriend. Good luck with that.”

  Then Ashton did something Grace had never seen him do before. He dropped the call—cutting off any response Beth might have—before glancing at the queue screen and bringing up the next caller.

  “Now let’s talk to Terri,” he said. “And whether or not her relationship can survive the habit of loud chewing.”

  The sky was transitioning from sunset to twilight when Grace found the perfect setting for the hot tub’s jet packs and settled in for a little pampering.

  “You should marry Hunter,” she said, glancing over at her friend Esme who sat next to her in the steaming luxury spa. “Any man who hooks you up with a hot tub like this is a keeper.”

  Esme smiled and took a sip of wine. “Oh, I’ll keep Hunter as a friend, but I could never date him. Can you imagine what a train wreck that would be?”

  Grace rolled her shoulders and rested her head back, settling in. “He’s hot.”

  “He’s also a total pill,” Esme sighed.

  “True,” Grace said, then let her eyes fall shut. “But he’s a pill who gets results. I could live with that.”

  Esme laughed. “Then maybe you should marry Hunter.”

  “Nuh-uh. I’ve got me a hot chef, thank you very much. That’s what Phillip and I bring to the party. You and Hunter can provide the pool and patio venue.”

  “I can provide the pool and patio venue,” Esme said, taking another sip. “Hunter isn’t one for parties. He has to be fixing something or making something, or he feels out of place.”

  “So we’ll put him over the barbecue,” Grace said, as if that solved everything. “Phillip and I will bring the side dishes.”

  “Stop,” Esme said, setting her wine glass down. “Hunter’s my oldest friend. Don’t make things weird by forcing me to imagine a world where he’s forced to be nice to people while running a barbecue. Some things just aren’t going to happen. Ever.”

  “Fine,” Grace sighed before falling silent and letting the spa jets pamper her aching muscles.

  “Maybe I should date Ashton,” Esme said after a long bout of silence.

  Grace’s eyes popped open. “What?”

  “Ashton,” Esme repeated. “Your coworker. He made my heart go pitter pat today with that whole spiel about how men show their commitment through their actions more than their words. That was hot.” She smirked. “And then his Instagram post after the show today? I like a guy who can go in for the kill.”

  Esme reached over and grabbed her phone—not that Grace needed to see the post. She already had about a dozen times. Esme pulled up the image of a princess-cut diamond in a jeweler’s box.

  So Grace, if I give this to a woman, does that mean we’re exclusive? Or do we still need to have a specific conversation?

  “He kind of nailed you and that caller to the ground on that one,” Esme said, as if the memory brought her pleasure. “It was hot.”

  “So you mentioned,” Grace grumbled, trying to keep annoyance out of her voice. “But Ashton isn’t your type.”

  “Hot is my type,” Esme said with a smile.

  “But you make twice as much money as Ashton and always will. He’s not ambitious like that.”

  “Hmm,” Esme said, processing the news. “That is a problem.”

  “We need to find you a nice lawyer or a doctor.”

  “No doctors,” Esme said with finality. “No pilots. I’m totally over men with a god complex.”

  Grace held up her wine glass between them. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Esme chimed their glasses together.

  “Wait,” Grace said, reaching for her phone. “That makes a great picture. The glasses, the steam, the horizon… I’ve got to post that.”

  “Go for it,” Esme said, holding the glass in place as Grace took a few shots.

  “Got it,” Grace said. Both women took sips before Grace settled in to find the right filter for the moment and adding the caption Ovaries before brovaries. Hanging with my girl.

  Esme looked at the caption over her shoulder and let out a little laugh. “Well, aren’t we just living the life, eh?”

  “With this hot tub?” Grace said, setting her phone down again and settling back in. “Definitely. Who needs a man?”

  “Yeah… not the same,” Esme laughed. “I’ll still take a man over this hot tub.”

  Grace grinned. “Then your jets aren’t as good as mine.”

  They both laughed before Esme sent Grace a sly look. “Should I give Phillip a call at work and let him know he’s been replaced by technology?”

  Grace shrugged. “Once you explained the circumstances, I’m sure he’d understand.”

  “Mmm,” Esme sighed in agreement. “This hot tub seven nights a week, or a workaholic one night a week. I’d take that trade.”

  Grace could read between the lines on that one. Esme didn’t like Phillip. Never had. Allowing criticisms of Phillip was a slippery slope. “Or I
could do the hot tub six nights a week and Phillip once a week.”

  Esme pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I’m not going to touch that one other than to say you deserve better than what you and Phillip have going on right now. This hot tub seats eight. There’s room for both of us to have a date in here any night of the week.”

  “I’ve got my date,” Grace said with a shrug. “You’re the single one in this tub.”

  “Yet we’re both solo,” Esme said, making the moment more awkward than it needed to be.

  Grace sighed and tried to find a bridge back to normal. “Message received, okay? I get that you’re not a Phillip fan.”

  “He just isn’t there for you,” Esme said. “I’m your date more often than he is.”

  “He has a restaurant to manage.”

  “A successful restaurant with an amazing staff that doesn’t need micromanaging,” Esme countered. “He could work half the hours and achieve the exact same results.”

  “Except for the fact that Phillip doesn’t know what to do with himself if he’s not working.”

  “My point exactly,” Esme said. “He will never be the guy who will sit in a hot tub with you or have that pool party you were talking about earlier. He might provide food, but he’d find an excuse to leave an hour in. Is that really the kind of guy you want to spend your life with? A guy who is always finding an excuse to spend as much time as possible at work?”

  “It’s not like that,” Grace said, even thought deep down she knew it was. “Phillip and I work well together.”

  “Work, yes,” Esme agreed. “It’s the fact that you never play that has my attention.”

  Grace held up her glass between them again. “Well, playing is what I have you for.”

  Esme arched a brow, then smiled and held out her glass. “Well played. I’ll drink to that.”

  “To ovaries before brovaries,” Grace said, chiming her glass against Esme’s.

  “Ovaries before brovaries,” Esme agreed and they both took a sip.

  When their server approached with two plates, Megan leaned across the table and muttered, “You realize this is technically stalking, right?”

  Ash played innocent. “Eating dinner at a restaurant with my niece?”

  “No. Covertly gathering information about Grace at her boyfriend’s place of business.”

  Ash sent his niece a playful look. “It’s recon.”

  Megan pursed her lips skeptically. “Recon in which you are shamelessly using a minor as camouflage?”

  “All’s fair in love and war,” he said, smiling at their server, Traci, as she closed the distance. She was a petite little thing, and the uniform emphasized her slender curves. Traci clearly knew that and he saw her mouth curve up as she noticed him noticing.

  “Besides, you’re not camouflage,” Ash muttered to his niece. “I need a new pair of eyes on the situation. I’m running out of ideas.”

  Traci reached them, serving his niece first. “Filet, medium, with sour cream and chive house potatoes,” she said before turning and looking Ash right in the eyes. Her gaze dipped down to his lips for a moment before she flashed a big smile. “T-bone, medium-rare, with house vegetables.”

  Ash sent Traci a smile in return. It seemed like the polite thing to do, but the move earned an eye roll from Megan.

  “Thank you,” Ash said.

  “Of course,” Traci flirted. “Would you like any sauces with your steak?”

  “Not if it’s cooked right,” Ash said.

  Traci sent him a wink. “Trust me. It’s just how you want it.”

  Ash barely hid his smile. He liked forward women. It was just too bad that he hadn’t come to Phillip’s that night looking for a date.

  “Sounds perfect,” he said, earning a kick from Megan under the table.

  “Anything else I can get for you?” Traci asked.

  “Actually, yes,” Megan said with a pointed look at Ash before turning a smile on for Traci. “You know who my uncle is, right?”

  “Uncle?” Traci said, looking between them with a smile.

  “Yes. Uncle,” Megan drawled, clearly not missing the pleasure on Traci’s face that Megan wasn’t Ash’s age-inappropriate date. She pushed on. “You know who he is, right?”

  There was a moment of debate in Traci’s eyes before she nodded and sent Ash a look. “You’re Ashton Miller.”

  “And he works with your boss’s girlfriend,” Megan finished for her.

  Ash didn’t miss the way Traci’s mouth curved down at the mention of Grace. The two clearly weren’t besties.

  “Yes. I am aware,” Traci said, expression neutral.

  “And are you aware that my uncle is currently engaged in an Instagram battle with Grace?”

  There was a blink, then Traci’s mouth curved up again. “An Instagram battle?”

  Megan nodded. “You’re food is great and all, but my uncle is really here looking to dig up information he can use to post pictures that will make Grace freak out.”

  And they were back to a full smile from Traci. “That sounds awesome.”

  “I need things that can translate into pictures,” Ash said, jumping into the conversation with both feet. “I just figured that she comes here a lot, right?”

  “Not so much lately,” Traci said. “But when we first opened? That whole first year? Yeah, she and Phil were in here a lot.”

  “And did Grace ever order anything strange?” Ash asked. “Or did you notice any weird tastes she has?”

  Traci’s expression became sly. “Oh, that woman is totally finicky when it comes to ordering meals. First off, she’s pescetarian, so there are only like five things on the menu she’ll even touch. But even still, she’s incapable of ordering anything as it stands on the menu. There’s always some custom adjustment that needs to be made in the kitchen for her.”

  Ash knew that, when it came to meat, Grace only ate fish but that wasn’t really something he could tease her about online.

  Or could he?

  “What’s weirdest thing she’s ever ordered?” he asked. “Anything that looks weird on a plate? If I ordered it, would it make a good picture?”

  “Oh, we could definitely make it into a great picture,” Traci said, clearly game.

  Ash nodded. “Then put it on my tab and tell the chef to make it look as OCD as possible.”

  “Done and done,” Traci said, sending him a wink before spinning away and heading toward the kitchen.

  Ash turned to Megan, who was frowning as she watched Traci all but skip away. “I don’t like her.”

  “Traci?” Ash said, making note of the woman’s boy-sized hips as they swayed away. She was tiny—too tiny for him—but she still made a cute picture. “What’s not to like?”

  “Are you serious? Did you see the look on her face when she talked about Phil?” Megan said his name as if it put a bad taste in her mouth. “Not Phillip—Phil, mind you. Even though Phillip spells his name out everywhere. He likes his name so much he named his restaurant after himself, and even Grace calls him by his full name on the air. But not Traci. She’s different, right? To her, it’s just Phil.”

  Ash shrugged. “I’m sure it’s the same with my name. Most people call me Ashton, but I wouldn’t mind if they called me Ash.”

  “But you would notice,” Megan pointed out. “It would be more personal, right? If a friend called you Ash, you’d be cool with it. But if it was an acquaintance or an employee that took the liberty, it would be weird. Plus, Traci never said Grace’s name. She called her ‘that woman.’ She’s dehumanizing Grace so she can feel more comfortable objectifying and betraying her.”

  Hmmm. She had good points. “When did you get so smart?”

  Megan arched a brow and cut into her filet. “Please. You forget how many knitting circles I’ve been subjected to in my life with grandma. I’ve heard this topic hashed out dozens of times. Our server totally has the hots for boss. I’d bet money on it.”

  For a moment, Ash forgo
t about his steak. “I can’t describe how weird it is to hear those words come out of your mouth. Where is the rewind button on your age?”

  Megan shrugged and took a bite of steak. “Hey, you’re the one who brought me here for an extra pair of eyes. I’m just earning my keep.” She pointed her knife Traci’s direction. “Beware of anything that chick gives you. She has ulterior motives.”

  Ash fought the urge to look Traci’s way. “I hear you, but it’s just a plate of food. I don’t see how that could be catastrophic.”

  Megan shrugged, tasting the potatoes. “I’m just saying, little Miss Traci is hot for boss. Consider her a poisoned well. Although…”

  “Although?” Ash prompted, picking up his fork and knife.

  Megan shrugged. “If a picture of food is enough to break up Grace and Phillip, maybe they shouldn’t be together in the first place. Relationships are delicate, but they shouldn’t be that delicate.”

  Ash laughed. “Says the girl who has never been in a relationship.”

  Megan replied by taking another bite of steak with a sage look in her eye. Ash stopped laughing.

  “I’m being serious here,” Ash said, leaning forward. “You’re fifteen. You’re too young to be dating anyone.”

  She shook her head, laughing. “I went on my first date when I was twelve.”

  “What!”

  “Don’t worry,” Megan said, looking pleased with herself. “It was all innocence that ended in a quick doorstep kiss.”

  “And your mom knew?”

  “Of course she knew,” Megan said with an eye roll. “You know my mom. She gave me the kama sutra version of the sex talk when I was six.”

  Ash studied his niece, trying to find a balance between what he wanted to say and what he knew his sister would want him to say. “I think the less I know on this topic, the better. That said, from here on out, any guys you want to date need to go through me. Understand? I meet the dudes. I know who they are and where they live. I know what car they drive, got it?”

  “That seems—”

  “Non-negotiable,” he said, sawing into his steak. “I know I’m not your dad, but I’m still blood which means I’m part of the package. I meet the dude and I track your GPS when you go out on the date.”