by Erika Kelly
He needed to check this growing attraction, because it fucking hurt to be rejected by her.
Chapter Fifty
Gray loved dropping in. The moment he took off, his board gliding on crunchy snow. The cone of concentration he fell into, the adrenaline punching through him as hard as the icy air…nothing like it. He loved racing up the wall, gaining speed, throwing his shoulder into the first spin and soaring off the lip. Nailing a trick was fucking exhilarating.
But nothing he’d felt about snowboarding compared to the way Knox felt about textiles. As they walked across the mile-long showroom of AG Fine Fabrics, she scoured the bolts of material, ribbons, and lacy shit like she’d been told a winning lottery ticket was embedded somewhere in those piles.
Her comments about him lacking commitment suddenly made sense. Because, truthfully, medals didn’t matter to him. Finally confronting his brothers the other day had cleared the way for him to see that, in choosing snowboarding competitions, he’d gone along with the pack. Not because, like Will, he had the drive to win, but because it hadn’t felt good to get a ride to a fencing competition, knowing all his brothers were in Utah at an event. Or to sit at the table with them when they got back as they went over every single thing they’d done…without him.
Gray liked the rush of surfing and boarding, but he always plateaued, needing to tackle more complicated tricks and bigger waves.
But the only thing he’d ever loved as passionately as Knox loved textiles was…Knox.
He caught up with her, dared to brush a lock of silky hair off her shoulder so he could see her pretty profile. “I should probably clear out the store, put up a Closed sign, and give you some alone-time.”
Fingering something satiny, she snickered. “Would you? Please?” And then she sighed. “I wish we had more time. I’d love to look around after our meeting.”
“You could always stay longer.” He was the one who had to get back to train. “Fly out tomorrow.”
“No, I can’t afford another night in the hotel, but thanks.”
He wanted to say he’d happily pay for it, but he respected her for not assuming he would.
They climbed a dimly lit stairwell to the second floor, the clap of their shoes echoing off the close walls, and entered into an open space filled with cubicles. Rows of offices lined the perimeter of the quiet room.
Behind the utilitarian metal desk stationed at the top of the stairs sat a young, well-dressed woman. Knox beamed a radiant smile. “Good morning. I’m Knox Holliday, and this is Gray Bowie. We’re here to see Mr. Goldschmidt.”
The woman peered at her screen, looking confused. “Uh…I don’t think you have an appointment?”
Everything happy and hopeful in Knox’s features flattened. “We do. Mrs. Granger arranged the meeting.”
“Right.” She looked uneasy. “But she called first thing this morning to say she couldn’t come.”
Gray stepped forward. “She can’t come, but she’s not the one ordering fabric today. Knox and I are.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. When she said she wasn’t coming, we cancelled the meeting.”
“Well, obviously, there’s been a misunderstanding,” Knox said. “But we’re here, right on time, and we have a plane to catch this afternoon, so we’d like to meet with Mr. Goldschmidt as planned.”
“Unfortunately, he’s not here,” the receptionist said.
“How long will it take him to get here?” Knox sounded firm but still friendly.
Fierce. Damn, he liked her.
“In traffic?” The receptionist shrugged. “At least an hour.”
Knox indicated a couple of hard chairs set against the wall. “We’re happy to wait.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” The young woman lifted out of her seat to glance into one of the glass-walled offices across the way.
“Get him on the phone.” Gray’s tone wasn’t nearly as amiable as Knox’s, but he didn’t give two shits. “Or I can call Mrs. Granger, and you can explain why she won’t be getting the dresses Knox is making for her spring show.”
“I’m so sorry.” The receptionist looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure he’d be happy to reschedule, but—”
“That won’t work,” Knox said. “I’ve got a plane to catch and a business to run. I’d like to speak with Ethan.”
Who the hell was Ethan?
The woman’s concern vanished. “Sure. Let me go talk to him.” She got up, her ballet flats shushing on the carpet as she walked to the office she’d been watching.
He gave Knox a questioning look. “Ethan?”
“The man who’s heart you’ve been instructed not to break. I read that his dad’s been pulling back on his hours, gradually giving his son more responsibilities. He can take care of my order just as well.”
He wanted to kiss her. Haul that sexy body up against his and feel her curves and heat. He was pretty sure his eyes said what he couldn’t, because awareness bloomed in a pretty pink splash across her cheeks.
He’d loved the girl who’d fought so hard to survive in a hostile town. But this woman?
Put it this way: I’m in serious trouble.
Gray needed to get out of the hotel room. Now. He tossed the room service menu onto the table and got up. “Let’s grab something to eat.” Fingers tapping on the doorframe, he peered into her bedroom.
Thanks to the love fest between Ethan and Knox, they’d missed their flight. So, while the two of them had walked through the warehouse, touching, fondling, and petting fabric, gawking over pearls and examining crystals through a magnifying glass, he’d called the hotel.
And stupidly, impulsively, moved them into the two-bedroom suite.
Digging through her suitcase, she barely spared him a glance. “Where are my pajama bottoms? Don’t tell me I didn’t bring them. No, I’m sure I did.”
Even though he could’ve caught a flight out and left Knox on her own—because, let’s face it, he didn’t care about the various kinds of lace—he could have happily watched Knox in her element all day long.
And, if he had to be really honest, it had to do with the secret smiles she’d thrown his way, as if he was her very first thought. Countless moments where her eyes widened in a look that said, Isn’t this amazing? Where she’d reach for him, her fingers tapping the back of his hand to get his attention.
“Here they are. I knew I’d packed them.” She yanked them out from the bottom and did a victory pump with them. “What did you say? Oh, right. Dinner. Would you mind ordering me the Caesar with grilled chicken, dressing on the side? I’m just going to change.”
“You’ve just spent hours swooning over miles of fabric and scored the deal of a lifetime, and you want a salad?”
“Swooning is exhausting.” Her sexy lips curved into a teasing smile, and he nearly lost his shit.
What would she do if he caught her up in his arms, dropped his face into the curve of her neck, and just breathed in the scent of her sweet and feminine skin? Well, he already knew the answer to that, didn’t he? She’d pull away.
Enough. He was not sitting in this hotel room all night with Knox in her jammies. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We’ve been going all day. I thought we could order in and talk about all the money I just spent.” She clutched the pajama bottoms to her chest. “I might be freaking out just a little.”
“Well, while you were swooning, I was going back and forth with Wyatt, discussing the spreadsheet he sent us. I can tell you with confidence that we’re good on finances. Didn’t hurt that you charmed the pants off Ethan, since his dad’s going to beat his ass when he finds out the prices he gave you.”
“I just slipped right into saleswoman mode.” Her brow creased. “I might’ve oversold the scope of my operation.”
“I didn’t hear you misleading him about anything.”
“Uh, I’m making two dresses right now. I might have some requests, but I don’t have any actual orders.”
“As of
twenty minutes ago, thirteen requests have come in from the social media pages. Now, I know it’s not a done deal. You have to talk with them, figure out pricing, but you are going to make more than two dresses this year, and you’re definitely making a hundred gowns for the pop-up.”
She backed away from the suitcase, pressing her hands to her stomach. “Oh, man.”
“Hey.” He cut around the bed to get to her.
“I think I’m in over my head.”
When he reached her, he wanted nothing more than to enfold her in his arms. “No, you’re not. We’ve got this.”
“I’ve never had employees and payroll and budgets. I’m good at designing, and I felt in control last year making twenty-five gowns. But right now…I don’t feel like I have a handle on this business.”
“You’re not running it by yourself. Wyatt has payroll and taxes and all the financial stuff. Amelia’s got PR and marketing. Zach’s got the creative end. And, as the business grows, we can hire as many people as we need to fulfill orders.” He tipped her chin. “We got this.”
She gazed up at him, so many questions in her eyes. “And you?”
“I’m the CEO. I’m going to oversee the whole thing. You got a problem with anyone, you come to me, and I’ll handle it. You’re running the show, which means you delegate the work that interferes with what you do best—designing and making the product. If you don’t like how things are going, you tell me, and together we figure it out. This is your company, we’re just the team backing you up, and damn happy for it.”
“You really want to be here?”
“Swear to God, Knox, nowhere else I’d rather be. And I know the others feel the same way. We make fuckin’ board shorts. We’ve never done anything as fun as this. We’re into it. Promise.”
She nodded, inhaling a sharp breath. “Okay. And it’s not like I’m making dresses in a bunkhouse in Calamity forever. It’s just for now. Until I get the attention of someone like Jack Abrams…until I have my first show.”
All that exhilaration—like soaring off the lip of the pipe—crashed and burned.
For a second there, he’d thought his world was big enough for her. “Now, you want a Caesar salad, or you want to get some tacos and funnel cake at the pier?”
He had two seconds to enjoy the view from fifty-feet above the Pacific Ocean before the roller coaster plummeted, slinging his funnel cake from the pit of his stomach into his throat. Shouldn’t have eaten right before the ride.
Clutching the bar, hair whipped back off his face, Gray laughed so hard tears spilled down his cheeks. Damn, it felt good, spending time with Knox, guilt-free.
But, no matter how badly he wanted to trail his fingertips along the smooth skin of her inner thigh in those shorts she was wearing, he knew he couldn’t. She didn’t see him like that. Sure, they got along. The intense connection they’d always had wasn’t one-sided. He didn’t doubt she felt affection for him, but when she closed her eyes, it wasn’t him imprinted on her lids. When she turned out the light and drew the blanket up to her ear, so spiders didn’t crawl in—like she used to do in the trailer—she didn’t get a shudder through her body as she imagined him sinking into her hot, wet heat.
Hey, now. No wood on a roller coaster. The ride jerked to a stop, the safety device pulled back, and they climbed out onto the platform.
“That was insane.” Her eyes went wide from the thrill.
The thing he liked about Knox was that she might be into fashion, but she wasn’t obsessed with how she looked. Right then, just off a roller coaster ride, she didn’t think to smooth down her hair, which was all over the place. Hadn’t thought to refresh her lipstick after downing a corndog. He loved how in-the-moment she was, how thoroughly she let herself go around him.
And how she looked like she’d just rolled onto her back after a wild go of hot sex.
“I did not expect that drop.” When she glanced back at the ride, the bright lights of the pier made her skin glow and her eyes glitter. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “It looks so harmless.”
I want her.
And I don’t think I can stand wanting this woman all over again. It would kill him, all that yearning and longing, the relentless ache.
He had until October eleventh with her—four weeks—before he flew to New Zealand for his first competition. For a while after that, their only interaction would be via text and email.
So, he’d do like he did seven years ago—take whatever she was willing to give right now.
“I had so much fun tonight.”
Gray nodded, setting his keycard on the suite’s kitchen counter.
Stretching, she reached her arms over head, twisting at the waist, her hands lowering behind her neck. The move exposed a tiny patch of creamy skin right above the waistline of her shorts. “I’m beat. I’m going to bed.” Instead, though, she lingered.
Was she expecting him to say something? Offer up a game of Battleship? She didn’t know the only game he wanted to play with her involved naked bodies. And, oh, fuck, did he want to get his hands on her.
“Goodnight.” She wore a simple T-shirt and white shorts, but he wanted her with a fierceness that made his skin feel tight, ready to burst.
Stay. Even if they just watched a movie on the couch, he wanted more time with her. The moment they landed in Wyoming tomorrow, he’d lose her. She’d dive into dress-making, and he’d be training. They wouldn’t have another chance to be alone like this.
“’Night.” He dropped onto the couch, reaching for the remote.
“You’re not going to sleep?”
“I’m pretty wired. I’ll just watch some mindless TV.”
“Your body’s not used to sugar, and you did eat a whole three bites of that funnel cake.”
His tongue flicked out, like a cat with a hair stuck on it. “It was disgusting.”
“Fried food? Your body’s in shock. It might never recover.” She lingered at the door. “Okay, well, goodnight.”
“You said that.”
She laughed. “I feel bad leaving you here when you’re wide awake.”
“Go. I know all you want to do is get in bed and start sketching.”
“Oh, you know that, do you?”
“I’m wrong?”
She smiled.
“I’ll also bet you’re itching to draw a whole collection based on amusement park rides. Or ‘food you’d find on a pier.’”
“I would never do something like that.” Her grin grew wider. “It’s not couture.”
“So, you’d start with The Funnel Cake, realize it was too tacky, and change it to The Crème Brȗlée.”
“Oh, good one. I better write it down, so I don’t forget.”
“The Parfait.” He leaned back, stretching an arm along the back of the couch.
She gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “Gorgeous.”
“The Ambrosia.”
“You’re brilliant.” She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “The Praline?”
“And my personal favorite, The Pots de Crème.”
“How do you even know that name?”
“My future sister-in-law.”
“Ah.” She made an exaggerated show of melancholy. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“What is?”
“A world class chef marrying into a family that lives off sweet potatoes and meat.”
“This is true,” he said. “Although, I’ve got to say, Will’s a changed man. He’s actually eating real food now.”
“That explains the beer belly.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. His brother worked out religiously and still had zero percent body fat.
“Yeah, so…”
Was she lingering just to torment him? “I know. Goodnight.” He clicked the power button on the remote.
“And I’m not getting into bed to sketch.”
Muting the TV, he said, “No?”
“No, I’m going to take a bath. I s
mell like fried cheese sticks.”
“No, you don’t. You smell sweet and soft. Feminine.” Shit. He’d freaked her out. The more he hung around her, the more he liked her, and it was hard to hide that kind of attraction. But he would absolutely not make her uncomfortable with his unwanted interest. “You don’t like baths. Don’t like to ‘wallow in your own filth.’”
“Oh, my God, Gray. That was when I lived in a trailer.”
“You want some time alone. That’s okay. I’m good.”
“I don’t want time alone. I just…”
“Want to take a ‘bath,’ which I think we both know means get into bed, find a good movie on TV, and wind up sketching until you fall asleep.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s so last decade.”
That mischievous smile squeezed his heart so hard all these warm, sticky feelings poured out. Nostalgia, longing. This is how it used to be, this connection. He thought he’d lost it forever, and he was so damn glad to have it back. “Hey, if I’m wrong, I’m wrong. People change.” But she still saw him as just a pal, so he motioned for her to close the door. “’Night.”
When she hesitated, it struck him that something was on her mind. He got up and came over to her. “What’s up?”
She didn’t answer, just gave him a searching look.
“If you’re worried about anything, lay it on me. Let’s talk it out.”
“No, I’m not worried. I mean, I am worried. Everything’s happening so fast. It’s been two weeks since I was getting my dresses ready to be shipped to New York for Bridal Fashion Week.”
Gutted. She’d gutted him. He’d only ever wanted to lift her up—and instead, she’d had her foot on the last step of the ladder, and he’d jerked her right back down.
“And before I could even process what happened, I’m heading back to Calamity, of all places, setting up shop in the bunkhouse. I mean…it’s crazy, right? And I know you and Amelia are doing everything in your power to rebuild what I’ve lost, but…come on, Gray. Ultimately, this is my problem.”
“Actually, it’s our problem. We’re all in this together.”