by T. A. Foster
“Oh, I’m good. I’m going to start packing tonight for Padre. Call you later, girl.”
“Bye.” I tossed my phone on the desk. Taylor would be here in less than a week. I had a lot to figure out between now and then.
I closed the office door for the evening just as Mason whipped into the parking lot, kicking up gravel with his fancy convertible. He stopped in front of the office.
“Need a ride?”
“No, thanks. I can walk fifty feet.” I slung the laptop bag over my shoulder. I needed to respond to a few more emails tonight.
“I don’t mind.” He flashed a killer smile.
“I can handle walking home.” I turned for the sidewalk in front of the Palm’s neon blinking sign. We really needed to get rid of that thing. It suddenly seemed tacky and low-rent flashing on Mason’s slick convertible.
“The offer always stands, sweetheart.” He revved the engine lightly and rolled toward the back of the parking lot to my former room.
I tried not to think about the fact that I put Mason in a place that held such dear memories for me, but I needed him to be close to the ocean. I needed him to fall in love with this place. I wasn’t about to let him stay in room twenty-four. Grey probably would have exploded on the spot. It was bad enough having Mason traipse in and out of the motel every day. It was a constant reminder to Grey that there was a legal battle on the horizon. I already regretted my offer. Every day he slipped a new list under the office door. Each one was longer than the last.
It didn’t appear that Mason was interested in any type of family bonding. He was strictly here for the business aspect of the Palm. I walked along the road, not wanting to cross paths with the uncle again.
I was surprised to see Grey’s truck in the driveway.
I jogged up the stairs. “Honey, I’m home,” I called through the kitchen. It was funny and cliché, but I liked saying it.
I placed my bag at the kitchen table and walked to the bedroom. I could hear the shower running. Two weeks ago, I would have stripped down to my birthday suit, pulled back the shower curtain, and wrapped myself around Grey’s hard, wet body, but it wasn’t two weeks ago. I wasn’t sure how he would take it. Every little thing seemed to annoy or frustrate him. I couldn’t tell anymore where the boundaries were that kept me from entering that sphere that set him off.
I noticed he had moved the TV back to the empty living room. There were twenty good reasons why he shouldn’t lift heavy things while his leg was still healing, but I wasn’t going to start our evening with a lecture. That got us nowhere. I decided to go for a run. I changed into my running shorts and shoes. I scribbled a note on the kitchen counter and let myself out the sliding glass door.
Twenty minutes in and the wind picked up as I turned near the end of the island for my run home. I was too busy mulling over all the problems I was facing to realize storm clouds had been circling overhead. The first pelt of rain felt good on my hot skin, the next ones came in rapid succession. I dug my feet harder into the sand, trying to make it back before the bottom fell out, but I was too late. By the time I got to the landing, I was drenched and the storm was only getting started.
I took the stairs two at a time and threw open the door. Grey was sitting at the kitchen table. His expression changed to concern when he saw me walk in. He picked up the crutches and hobbled toward me.
“Darlin, you ok?” His hand slid down my wet cheek.
I nodded. “I wasn’t paying attention to the storm clouds. Just a little wet.” I pulled the tank top away from my stomach. I was drenched all the way through, and standing in air conditioning made me shiver.
He laughed lightly, something I hadn’t heard in a while. “Yeah, I’d say you got caught in the storm.”
I waited for him to offer to help me out of my clothes or just start to do it himself, but he stood there watching me, studying the water dripping off my skin. I inhaled deeply, wanting him to claim me with his mouth, his words, anything. He was so close, I could almost feel his breath along my skin. It would only take one move and we would be tearing at each other, tangling our hands in each other’s clothes, surrendering our bodies to each other. Just one move. He only had to make one damn move.
He rocked back on his crutches, his eyes moving to my face. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and we’ll order some dinner?”
My eyes flashed to his. I suddenly realized I might have more problems than I thought. How had things gone so wrong? I bit my bottom lip and brushed past him on the way to the bathroom. I couldn’t let him see me breakdown, because that was the only thing I could think of doing.
I paced in front of baggage claim. Taylor’s plane landed five minutes ago and I couldn’t wait to see her. A month was a long time to be away from my best friend.
She broke through the slow travelers in front of her and ran toward me.
“I’m here!”
I hugged her harder than I had anyone in my life. “How was your flight?”
“Too long.” She frowned. “You are just too far away. I’m ready for you to move back home.”
“I know.” I pointed her toward the luggage carousel and away from her last statement. “But no problems?”
She shook her head. “Not one.”
I was glad her first trip to Texas was different from my experience. Everything that could happen to me seemed to in less than twelve hours.
“Where’s Grey?” She looked around the pickup area.
“Oh, he’s working. Since he took off a week after the accident, he can’t really get away.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “He said to tell you he’ll see you tonight for margaritas.”
“Margaritas? My favorite.” Taylor wedged herself between two men and retrieved her flowered bag from the rotating luggage carrier. “This is it. I only brought one bag.”
I smiled. “All right, let’s get your fall break started.” I led her into the bright Texas sun and to my car.
I turned the key for room twenty-four. It seemed like the perfect place for Taylor to stay. It was only steps from our beach deck and it faced the water. We still didn’t have a couch and there wasn’t any guest furniture in our guest room. I couldn’t very well roll out a sleeping bag for her on the floor.
“Wow, this is cute.” Taylor gushed over the quaint space. “I love the pink tile.”
I giggled. “Finally, someone else who appreciates retro-chic.” I pulled a luggage rack from the closet for her.
“Are you kidding? This is adorable.” She fluffed a pillow then hopped on the bed. “And the bed is cushy too.”
I tried not to blush. I used to share that bed with Grey.
“I’ll let you get settled, and then we can walk over to Pete’s for drinks and dinner. Grey said he’d be home by five. That gives you an hour. Is that ok?”
She walked across the room and unzipped her bag. “Yep. I’ll be ready.” She held up a cutoff top. “Do cowboys like these kinds of shirts?”
I laughed. “The cowboys aren’t going to know what to do with you. See you in an hour.” I hugged her again before heading home.
It felt good to have Taylor next door. She was a piece of home, a piece of my life that I was trying desperately not to miss. Texas was supposed to be my home now.
I changed into a pair of fitted jeans and the boots Grey bought for me. I hadn’t worn them nearly enough. It was warm, so I opted for a black tank top. Sleeveless was best on these Indian summer nights. I shook my hair down around my shoulders. I thought I looked like any other Texas girl. Only, right now, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Grey hobbled through the door, banding his crutches on the frame. “You look dressed up for something.”
I twirled on my heels. “Drinks? Dinner?” I scowled at the puzzled look on his face. “Taylor is here.”
“Oh shit.” He sat on the bed. “I forgot that was tonight.”
“We talked about it this morning. How did you already forget?”
“I’ve been playing catch u
p all day. Never thought about it again after you mentioned it.” He braced himself with one crutch. “I’ll take a shower and be ready in ten minutes.”
He staggered to the bathroom.
I could let him off the hook. Tell him I’d make it a girls’ night, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted Taylor to see how happy I was with Grey. That I moved for all the right reasons and that fairy tale endings did come true. Although, what kind of fairy tale was I living? I landed on my back, taking up most of the bed.
“Darlin?”
“Yep?”
“I left my jeans in the closet. Could you bring them to me?”
I moved off the bed and walked to the spare room where Grey kept his clothes. All his jeans looked the same to me, so I randomly grabbed a pair.
I knocked on the door and shoved them through. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” The door closed again.
I stared at the barrier between us. Since when did we dress behind closed doors and always shower alone? I sighed and walked to the kitchen. This wasn’t the love I was excited to show off.
Taylor’s eyes widened as we walked into Pete’s. She wasn’t used to all the cowboy hats, country music, or sunsets on the sound.
“This is amazing.” She stood next to the bar.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “How about a sunset table and a pitcher of margaritas?”
“Let’s do it.” We walked arm in arm to one of the front water seats. Grey maneuvered through the tables with his crutches.
Maybe I should have moved some of the chairs out of the way to make sure he had a clear path, but he had made it clear over the past two weeks that he could do things on his own. He didn’t need me.
The margaritas were the perfect mixture of salty and sweet. I didn’t think Mac had ever made a better batch. I grinned as he walked toward our table.
“How’s everyone over here doing tonight? Eden, this your friend from North Carolina?”
“Sure is. Taylor, meet Mac, best bartender on the island. Mac, meet Taylor, the best roommate a girl could have.”
“Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. “Hope you have a great vacation in South Padre. Grey and Eden put you up at the Palm?”
Taylor took a sip of her margarita. “Yes, I love it. The place is adorable.”
“Good. I’ve got to get back to the bar. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Nice meeting you, Mac.”
I reached for the pitcher and poured another round for Taylor and me, making sure to fill the blue glasses to the top.
Taylor turned to Grey. “So, what’s the deal with your secret uncle showing up?”
“Taylor.” I nudged her arm with my elbow.
“Oh, sorry. Am I not supposed to bring that up?”
Grey shifted his hurt leg with both hands. “I don’t know, Taylor. I haven’t talked to him much. Eden probably knows more about him than I do.”
Her eyes darted to me.
“That’s not true. I’ve only talked to him a handful of times.” I dove into my margarita.
“Well, I want to meet him.”
Grey’s expression became sourer. “And why’s that?”
“Because how many people do you know have a mysterious relative show up out of the blue? It’s reality TV stuff.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think Mason’s that exciting. I don’t want you to be disappointed when you see him around.” I was admittedly holding back details about his sparkly eyes and chiseled jaw. One look at him and Taylor would melt.
“I just want to see him. You know I’m curious.”
Grey rolled his eyes. “You should get your chance since he’s staying at the Palm.”
“He is?” Taylor questioned me.
“I thought I told you that part.” I couldn’t remember how much of the story I had relayed to her. Ever since Grey’s accident, life had been a blur.
The margaritas were going down faster than they should. I reached for the pitcher, ready for my third one.
“Who else am I going to meet this week?” Taylor held her glass forward for me.
“Marin and Pick just got engaged. You’ll meet them, and then Pick’s best friend, Connor. I think that’s it.”
“Oh, what about Connor? Is he my type?” She grinned playfully.
“Umm, Connor’s a sweetheart really, but I don’t know that you’re going to be into him like that.” Connor was way too thin and lanky for my friend.
I knew we were analyzing the physical aspects of the Padre men—probably not Grey’s topic of choice—but I was surprised when he eased himself from the seat and leaned on his crutches.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Thought I’d let you girls catch up. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“You’re leaving?” I didn’t know whether to be hurt or angry. Maybe a combination of both.
“Darlin’, my leg’s killin’ me. You have fun.” He smiled at Taylor. “Glad you made it in ok. See you tomorrow.”
“Night, Grey.” She smiled weakly. I knew she was just as confused as I was.
I wanted to dart after him and demand a better explanation. Not everything could be about his leg, but instead, I clutched my margarita and listened to him hobble out of Pete’s.
Taylor’s excited expression turned serious. “Is everything ok between you two?”
I stared at the horizon; the sun was almost gone. “I don’t know anymore, Taylor. I just don’t know.”
I dropped the keys four times trying to open the kitchen door. Funny, it was the same number of margaritas I had had. Taylor and I ordered dinner, but probably way too late. I stumbled into the kitchen in search of a glass of water. I threw my purse on the counter.
There was a light on over the stove and the bathroom door was cracked, illuminating the hallway. I poured myself a glass of water and chugged it. I needed a counterbalance to all the salt I had licked off the rim of my glasses.
My head felt fuzzy, but the rest of me felt energized. Tequila had that effect on me. I brushed my teeth in the bathroom, turned off the light, then staggered to the bedroom. Silver light filtered in from the windows. I could see Grey. He was breathing slowly under the covers. His bad leg was propped on a stack of pillows on the outside edge of the bed. We had to switch sides after the accident so I didn’t keep bumping into it while I was sleeping. I wondered how long he had been asleep, and if he had tried to wait up for me.
I tugged on the heels of my boots and dropped them on the floor. I looked to see if the noise awakened Grey. He didn’t move.
I stood to peel the jeans off my hips. I kicked them off. I tossed my tank top on the floor somewhere with the rest of the clothes. I watched as he slept. He had no idea I was here, almost naked, and dying to touch him.
I crawled across the bed and hovered over him. I planted a kiss on his neck before moving to his ear, where my teeth started to bite and pull. I nudged my cheek against his and ran my hands over his chest, enjoying the rigid planes of his abs. As my hand descended below his waist, I heard him groan. Finally. He was awake.
“Baby, what are you doing?” He sounded groggy.
I covered his question with a kiss, probably sloppier than I intended, but I had tequila running through my body. I was acting on impulse. My hand moved up and down, urging a response from him. I rubbed my breasts along the side of his chest.
“Darlin’, are you drunk?” He tried to sit up, but I peppered him with urgent kisses.
I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. The straps slid over my arms and I pushed it to the side.
“I miss you, Grey.” I whimpered more than I wanted. My body was aching for him. It had been weeks since we had been together like this.
“Eden, stop.” He struggled to sit up.
I felt cold, nausea, and instant humiliation. “You don’t w-want this?” There were tears brimming over my eyelashes.
He shifted toward me, and immediately reached for his bad kne
e. “Son of a bitch,” he groaned.
I scrambled off the bed and ran to the bathroom.
“Eden, come back.” I heard him call through the door, but I was too busy splashing cold water on my face, fighting ugly sobs, and throwing my head over the toilet. I wrapped myself in one of the robes I had draped on the back of the door hook. As my eyes closed, with my face pressed against the cool tile, I knew I didn’t want to see the sun or Grey in the morning. Sometime during the night, I fell asleep on the bathroom floor.
I heard knocking on the door. I lifted my head and remembered where I had fallen asleep.
“Eden, you ok?”
Oh my God. I clutched at the side of my head as if that would stop the wave of nausea rolling through my body. My knees wobbled as I stood upright and opened the door.
Grey stood holding a cup of coffee. “Here. I made this for you.”
It actually smelled good. I took the mug in my palms and inhaled the scent of vanilla bean. “Thanks.”
“Can we talk a minute before I go to work?” He eyed me warily.
I nodded and followed him to our bedroom. He was only using one crutch this morning. We sat on the bed and deposited my coffee on the bedside table.
“How are you feeling?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He looked worried.
“Like I drank too many margaritas.” I tried to make a joke out of an embarrassing situation. Part of me hoped like hell that he was too asleep last night to remember my attempt to drunkenly seduce him.
“Did you and Taylor have a good time?” His hand moved along my neck. I would have enjoyed the contact more if I didn’t feel so awful.
I nodded. I had made such a colossal mess of things. It would be a long time before I touched tequila again.
“I’m not good at this stuff.” He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “But I don’t want you to think last night was about you. Any other time and I would have been all over you. I woke up this morning thinking that the last few weeks you might have gotten the wrong idea.”