“Getting laid is not the solution to all life’s problems.”
“You should think about it. Might help you burn off some of that anger.”
Des shook his head. Sometimes his brother was clueless. “Don’t you ever want to find one special person to be with instead of sleeping your way through my customers?”
“If chasing after one girl turns people into this”—Paul gestured up and down to Des—“then no, I don’t want to do that. Life is for the living, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“You’re deluded.”
“And you’re crazy. You’re refusing to make up with Gracie but you won’t move on to someone else. What’s the point of that?”
Des frowned. “Why do you think I need to make up with her?”
“She hasn’t been here in ages and you’re in a permanent bad mood. I might not be a rocket scientist but I can see the connection there.” Paul elbowed him in the ribs, a sly smile crossing his face. “You could always let me talk to her.”
“Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged.” Paul grinned. “Seriously though, what happened?”
“I slept with her,” he said, twisting his mouth into a grimace. “She decided it should be a one night only thing.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“Yeah. I don’t want one lousy night. I want all the nights, every damn one of them.”
Paul leaned against the bar and crossed his arms. “Why’d she bail?”
Des sighed. “Something about her family thinking we wouldn’t be a good match.”
“Ah.” Paul nodded. He had no snappy comeback or joke this time. “And you had flashbacks.”
“Yeah.” Des raked a hand through his hair. “That’s what I get for chasing after society princesses.”
“Gracie’s not just a society princess.”
“Since when do you take her side?”
Paul laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m not taking sides. All I’m saying is that you’re putting your baggage on her when maybe there’s more to the story.”
“What more could there be?”
“She obviously likes you. I can tell you she never once looked at her dates the way she looked at you.”
“So?”
“Did you ever think that maybe her family issues embarrass her?”
Des blinked. “Uh, no.”
Paul shrugged. “Maybe she thinks that dragging you into her family drama would be a crime worse than skipping out after sleeping with you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Is it? If I remember correctly, she-who-shall-not-be-named was pretty darn tired of being stuck between you and her family.” Paul raised a brow. “And then you dumped her.”
“I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“I didn’t say you did the wrong thing. But don’t you think Gracie might be worried that she’ll go out on a limb only for you to bail when it gets too hard.”
Des could only imagine his face looked like a gaping fish in that moment. His younger brother—lady-killer extraordinaire—had given him a precious insight into Gracie’s mind that he hadn’t even considered.
“I know you don’t agree with the way I do things, but I’ve learned a thing or two about women. Any time they do something, it’s not for the reason you think.” Paul tilted his chin up and drew his lips into a smug smile. “Their logic is something you can’t even comprehend.”
Could he be right? Gracie had called a few times since the day he’d ordered her out of his house, and he’d ignored each one. Maybe he should have heard her out, listened to her reasons. Instead he’d been so blinded by desire to avoid the past that he’d assumed the worst.
“You need to make a decision one way or the other.” Paul started clearing the empty glasses from the bar. “You can’t keep driving everyone crazy by staying in limbo.”
The thought of letting Gracie go for good made him want to hurl something at the wall. She had a grip on him that he couldn’t shake. The memory of her soft lips and beautiful smile haunted him no matter whether he was waking or sleeping.
He couldn’t do it.
“Let go or go for it? Make a decision now before I stage a formal intervention.”
Des sucked in a breath. Paul was basically asking him whether he wanted to follow his head—the proper one, the logical one—or his heart.
“Tick tock, Bro.”
“Going for it.” As he said the words, it was as if something lifted from him—call it a dark cloud, a heavy weight. Whatever.
He felt free as a goddamn bird.
“Go.” Paul shoved him towards the door. “Good luck.”
…
Should he call? Des sat in the driver’s seat of his car and toyed with his phone. The house in front of him was intimidating in all its old-money glory. He looked down and caught sight of his ripped jeans and worn sneakers.
It would have to do. This was who he was—jeans and two-day growth, tatts and T-shirts. He loved getting his hands dirty, he loved tinkering with his car and watching sports and camping at the beach. He loved his Ma even though she always got the words “kitchen” and “chicken” mixed up. He wanted a simple life of home cooked food and hot sex. No frills, no fuss. Maybe a few bambinos running around.
If she couldn’t accept that… Well, he’d have to move on.
He stepped out of the car and started up towards the house, though calling it a house would have been a massive understatement. He knew she’d be here. Weekly lunches were a Greene family tradition, one she’d moaned about on multiple occasions.
He’d dropped her here one time, after a date had been cut short by a frantic call from her mother. It only ever happened the once and she’d been so distraught that he couldn’t possibly let her go on public transport. It wasn’t long after her father passed away. He hadn’t known her very well back then, but he’d liked her straight away.
Des hovered at the front door, his hand inches from the doorbell. Letting it go or going for it? Paul’s words echoed in his mind and he pressed the button quickly, before he changed his mind.
The doorbell chimed an intricate melody inside the house. Even the Greene’s doorbell was high-end. Footsteps sounded inside and the door swung open.
“Hello?” A blond woman peered at him curiously.
While the coloring was totally different, Des guessed immediately that she was Gracie’s older sister. They had the same sweet smile and heart-shaped face, the same petite features.
“You must be here for Gracie,” she said with a knowing smile.
“Des.” He stuck out his hand and she accepted it readily.
“I’m Emmaline.” She held the door open for him and motioned for him to follow. “Gracie didn’t mention you were coming to lunch.”
He stepped through the door and tried to block out the expensive surroundings. The scent of fresh flowers filled the house, the clink of cutlery came from the next room. Low voices talked. It sounded like an intimate group.
“It wasn’t planned and I don’t have an invitation.” He watched Emmaline’s face, waiting for her to challenge his presence, but instead she shrugged.
“No need to worry about that.” A gentle hand landed on his arm. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
He swallowed, heart pounding as they walked through the near silent house. The place was like a museum—filled with old things that probably never got used, though the place was clean as a hospital.
“Who was it?” A voice demanded as they stepped into the dining room. “Who are you?”
The woman’s sharp tone threw him straight back into the past and her eyes raked over him as though he were a bug to be picked from her clothing. Gracie sat to her left, her dark hair pinned loosely on her head. Her eyes widened and she looked from her mother to Des and back again.
He opened his mouth to speak but Gracie stood.
“Mother, this is Desmond Chapman.” Her hand fluttered by her side, smoothing
the fabric on her dress.
“Mrs. Greene.” He stuck his hand out and the older woman looked at him for a moment before accepting.
“Perhaps we should take this outside.” Gracie went to move but Emmaline forced her back down into her seat.
“I’m sure whatever Desmond wants to say will be relevant to everyone here,” Emmaline said, giving her mother a stern look.
He cleared his throat. “I came here to let you know that Gracie has been living a lie.”
Three sets of eyes locked onto him with the same cautious gaze. Gracie tilted her head and fidgeted with a cloth napkin.
“She’s an amazing girl who’s been putting herself into a box that doesn’t fit her. She’s been chasing a dream that isn’t hers. She’s been trying to find something by looking in all the wrong places.”
“Des?” Gracie looked as though she was about to jump out of her chair but Emmaline’s hand remained firmly on her shoulder.
“You’re so much better than those guys you date. You deserve more than to be a tick in someone’s box. You deserve to be loved, not because you know how to make a good dating profile but because you’re funny and sexy and just this side of crazy with all your rules.”
“I’m not sure why you’ve come here to give my daughter dating advice.” Mrs. Greene narrowed her blue eyes at him. “I would think Gracelyn is perfectly capable of determining who is suitable for her.”
Gracie’s mother had an imposing air despite her small frame and stooped posture. Her face lacked the softness of her daughters’ but curiosity danced in her eyes. She watched him, assessing.
“Mother,” Gracie protested. “I—”
“Enough, Gracelyn. I want to hear what this young man has to say.”
All eyes turned to Des, the tension in the air so thick it could have been sliced with a knife.
“You don’t have to like me or think I’m right for Gracie. But I love your daughter very much. I’ve been stupid enough to let our differences hold us apart. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”
It was so quiet the chirping of birds outside floated through the house. Gracie gaped at him, her cheeks flushed the same rosy shade as the flowers on her dress.
“I want us to be together.” He looked directly at Gracie. “I stuffed things up. I know, but I want to fix it.”
“What do you have to say about all this, Gracelyn?”
Gracie drew a deep breath. Moment of truth. Was she going to stick with what she knew? Des’s heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline pulsing through him with each furious beat.
“I think Des deserves to have his say,” she said, her voice measured. “I want to hear him out.”
She drew her shoulders back but stood frozen to the spot. Emmaline clapped her hands together and her mother nodded. Was it his imagination or did the older woman stifle a smile?
“Very well.” Mrs. Greene shooed them away with both hands. “Take the conversation outside. Some of us are trying to have lunch.”
Gracie walked around the side of the table. She placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder and the older woman held it for a moment before turning back to her meal. Not a word was passed between the two of them, but Des could sense a change in the air. Forgiveness.
He followed Gracie through the side door, stepping out into the Greene’s courtyard. The summer air was mild but a cool breeze lifted Gracie’s hair, scattering her curls around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips moist. Around her slender legs, the skirt of her dress swirled, tempting him with flashes of thigh.
“You’re certifiably crazy, Des Chapman.”
“I messed up.”
“We messed up.” She let go of his hand and turned to face the sprawling view of the garden. “Maybe we should have kept our distance.”
“No.” He grabbed her by the arms and spun her around. “I’ll admit it, I was angry.”
“Oh, really?” A faint smile crossed her lips.
“I was hurt when you left that morning. Really hurt.”
Her lip trembled. “I was frightened of all the things you offered me—passion, the most amazing sex I’ve ever had, a real relationship. For the first time in my life I had something real… and it was terrifying.”
She blinked, her dark lashes glistening.
“I want real.” He reached up to cup her face with his hand.
Her skin was soft against his palm. The breeze blew her hair around, tickling him. He ran the pad of his thumb across her lower lip.
“At least with all those other guys, if I failed then I wouldn’t lose much. You were not a safe option, Des. We had this incredible friendship that somehow blossomed into more and the thought of losing that was…”
Her lip trembled and the desire to kiss her raged through Des’s body. She was so close to him, so open and vulnerable.
“It’s scary,” she said.
“I know.” He brought his forehead down to hers.
“But I don’t care anymore.”
“Why the change of heart?” He had to know. He needed her to feel the same way.
“It was something you said to me. You said I was a woman, not a child, and that I had to do things for me.” She ran her hands along his arms, the gentle scrape of her nails sending shivers down his spine. “Being with you is the best thing I could ever do for myself and I know I can make you happy.”
“You absolutely can, Gracie. You’ll make me insane first, but there’s not a shred of doubt in my mind that you’ll make the happiest guy on the planet.”
“I love you, Des. It scares me half to death but I love you.”
She’d laid it all out for him. God, she’d even said she loved him. She hadn’t come outside with the intention of saying the l-word but it felt so natural it slipped out before she had time to consider the repercussions. Realization shook Gracie to the core. She did love him. She loved him like she’d never loved anyone before… and that meant that the stakes were even higher than she’d thought. She had everything to lose, but she couldn’t walk away, not now.
Des’s strong jaw, lined with stubble, looked sharp as a razor. His thick, black lashes and full lips looked as though they’d been sculpted with her fantasies in mind. The T-shirt he wore did nothing to conceal the hard, muscular chest and toned stomach beneath.
Everything about him was perfect and she didn’t need a checklist to tell her that.
“Say something,” she whispered. Her hands trembled in his, but he didn’t let go. That was a good sign… right?
“I never told you this, but I was engaged once.” He let out a breath, his eyes focused on some object in the distance.
Gracie swallowed. Something big was coming. Something crucial. Something make-or-break. “What happened?”
“She was rich, like you.” He swallowed, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Her family didn’t approve. They criticized me at every turn. Nothing I did was good enough. But I proposed to her anyway.”
Gracie bit her lip. “Did she call off the wedding?”
“I called it off.” Pain flashed across his dark eyes. “I couldn’t take it anymore. We had this huge fight about her family and I said I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t marry her. She threw the ring at me. I never saw her again.”
“Never?”
Des shook his head. “Her father sent someone around to pack up all her things. They cancelled everything, organized it all as if it were just another business transaction.”
“That’s not going to happen with me.” Gracie straightened her shoulders. Standing up to her mother stung. But it was a rocky road and she was prepared for the challenge. She knew deep down that eventually they would work it out, but she wasn’t going to sacrifice happiness with Des for that opportunity.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve seen what can happen when you don’t make decisions for yourself.” She wiped her slick palms down the front of her dress. “I meant what I said about not being my mother’s puppet anymore. I want to be my
own person, and that person wants to be with you.”
“Family is important, Gracie. You might say those things now, but what happens after a month? A year?”
“You can hold me to it. I’m in.”
“I’m not going to be a consolation prize, Gracie.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his mouth tugged into a flat line. “If you’re in, then you’re in the whole goddamn way.”
Intensity radiated from him, warming her skin and making her heart thud in her chest. Even at his most serious he turned her into a quivering, overexcited mess. “I don’t do things by halves.”
“Is that a new rule?” He grinned, pressing his lips to her forehead.
She snaked her hands around his waist, revelling in the hard muscles of his waist. “How about I let go of the rules for a while?”
“Pfft.” He chuckled, his breath warm against her cheek. His lips followed, trailing down her cheeks to the corner of her lips with the most feather-light of touches. “I give it a week tops.”
“And how long do you give us?” Her voice held the weight of her hope, her trepidation, her desire.
“Forever.” He deepened their kiss, pressing her back against the wall of the house.
Goose bumps rippled across her bare arms; butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She was hoping he’d say that, because she would never, ever get sick of being kissed by him. The thought of what could follow those kisses was enough to make her weak at the knees. She braced herself against the wall and slid her hands down to slot into the back pockets of his jeans, curving her hands against him and pulling him close.
“I love you, Gracie Greene.” A cheeky smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “But I do have one rule.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
“We maintain that three orgasm minimum.”
He nuzzled the side of her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin and his hands traversing the length of her body. The afternoon disappeared around them. Delicious shivers ran through her as she grabbed his face and brought it to hers.
“Deal.”
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The Rules According to Gracie Page 9