She grins at me and grabs her bag again.
"I'm actually going up to the library for some more research. Do you want a ride? I can come by and pick you up after?"
"Sure," she says.
I listen as she tells me about the upcoming play during the short drive to the school. Emma sounds excited and enthusiastic, and I'm glad to hear her so happy. When she first got back to Magnolia Falls, she was so resistant, I worried she wouldn't be able to settle in and enjoy her time here. She seems to have found her place, and is truly enjoying what she's doing.
"I have something to ask you," I tell her as I pull up in front of the school.
She releases her seat belt and looks over at me.
"What's on your mind?"
"You only have about two weeks until you start your Christmas vacation, right?"
"Yep," she replies.
"What if Wyatt sticks around?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if he’s settled in for the long haul? If he's really determined to win you back, he might try to milk the Christmas sentiment by just staying the whole season. Maybe he hopes if you see him during the holidays enough, it will trigger all those nostalgic feelings, and you'll fall right back into his arms."
"Jokes on him. There aren't any nostalgic feelings," she says.
"But it could get really aggravating with him continuing to try."
"That's true." She sighs and sags back against the seat. "Oh, come all ye faithful, my ass."
I laugh.
"Exactly. But, I have an alternative for you."
She looks over at me.
"What is that?"
"I have a client who has a few requests he wants completed by the end of the year. I've gotten them set up, and I'll be leaving in a couple weeks to manage his experiences. Why don't you come with me?"
"Come with you?" she asks. "You want me to go with you to deal with your clients?"
"You make it sound like I'm a hired thug," I say.
"Well, you do teach advanced assassin courses," she says with a smile.
"I'm not asking you to come with me while I watch paint dry, Emma. It will be fun, and it will get you away from Magnolia Falls for a while. If you're not here, he can't bother you. It will be a good break for you."
She shakes her head.
"I don't know, Grant. I don't think that’s a good idea."
"Why not?" I ask.
She looks into my eyes, and an untold amount on emotion is reflected in her gaze.
"There's so much going on here. We have the project you're working on, to start. I also wanted to help the kids design the set and costumes. Besides, I can’t leave my mother alone over Christmas. It's already hard enough on her that Carina and Grace haven't moved back to Magnolia Falls. I don't want her to feel like I've abandoned her, too."
"We've made a lot of progress on the retirement celebration," I say. "There isn't a lot more we can do until probably the beginning of spring, except for continuing to track down the guest list. I know you want to help with the set and costumes like you used to, but you've got to let your students take control on that. Remember how much you enjoyed being able to do your own thing? You wouldn't have wanted your teacher hovering over you, giving you “suggestions,” and basically telling you what to do. Trust them. You know how important this is to them. Let them have that. As for your mother, she'll be fine for a couple of weeks. We'll be back in plenty of time for the actual holiday."
Emma looks at me, seeming to think about it for a few seconds, then glances at the dashboard clock.
"I really have to get inside. The audition starts in just a few minutes. I really appreciate the offer, Grant. I just... I don't know it's a good idea."
She gets out of the car, and I watch her run toward the door. I'm disappointed that Emma turned down my offer. The rejection is on my mind the entire time I'm at the library, and by the time I have to go pick her back up, I've barely gotten any work done. I hate the thought of her being on the island without me for two weeks. I know she isn't afraid of Wyatt, and doesn't think he poses an actual threat. I believe her, but I still get a sick feeling in my stomach when I think about him breaking into her house the morning of Black Friday. I’ll never be able to forget the sound of her screams waking me up. Even if she wasn't in danger, and I got her away from him in seconds, there was still a flash of time when I thought he had hurt her, and it was one of the most gut-wrenching moments of my life. I don't want to think about her being here alone. Judy might have the capacity to be right on the edge of terrifying, but I can't hope for a scavenger hunt that lasts the entire Christmas season just to keep Wyatt at bay.
I'm expecting an awkward ride home with Emma. Soon after I get to the school, however, she slams her way through the double doors and stomps toward the car. Her cheeks are flaming, and her eyes are bright with anger. She tosses herself into the passenger seat and turns an intense glare to me.
"Does your offer still stand?" she asks.
"Absolutely," I say. "What happened to make you change your mind?"
"He tried to audition for the lead role."
* * *
Emma
Three weeks later…
I watch as Grant's client David stumbles into the back room and starts clawing at the mask covering his face. He's gasping as if he can't breathe through the thick leather and spandex, but I know he's in no danger. I'm wearing a similar mask, and I'm having no problem breathing at all, even though I was doing a whole lot more physical activity out there then he was. After a few seconds of him thrashing around, Grant steps up behind David and starts unknotting the letter ties at the back of his mask. I can hear the roar of the crowd outside, and I rush back to the door to scream back at them. This just incites more shouting and cheering, and I laugh as I turn back to David. He's finally managed to peel the mask off his face, and he whips around to face me.
"What the fuck was that?!" he shouts at me.
"What?" I ask innocently.
He takes a step toward me.
"You just smashed me in the side of my face, then you flattened me on the ground!"
Grant steps up and presses the side of his arm against David's chest to push him away from me.
"Back off," he says. "She was just doing what you asked."
"I was setting you up for the greatest intergender finisher of all time," I tell him. "I gave you fair warning."
“How did you give me fair warning?”
“I told you to hit me with a Diamond Cutter before I took the rope dive.”
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS, WOMAN!”
He tries to take another step toward me, but Grant is there to push him back again.
"I told you to back off," he says. "Her name is Emma, and it's not her fault you don't know what the hell you're talking about. You're the one who filled out the paperwork. You're the one who said your big dream was to wrestle with a real federation in front of a live audience. I assumed that meant you at least had a basic working knowledge of wrestling and would be able to hold your own during a match."
David stumbles over a few words, sputtering and mumbling as he tries to come up with a response.
"I wasn't prepared to wrestle against a woman," he finally it spits out. "That creates a completely different dynamic."
"No, it doesn't," Grant says. "She kicked your ass, and she would have whether you knew you were going to be fighting a woman or not. Besides, you weren't just up against her. I was there, too."
"Exactly," he sneers. "I was outnumbered. And you didn't have to lay down on top of us at the end."
Grant rolls his eyes. I see now what he was telling me about clients who put things on their lists because they think it’ll make them look impressive, but have no idea what they're actually getting themselves into.
"The ref told me to," Grant points out. "The two of you were just sprawled out in the middle of the ring, and it didn't seem like anything else was going to happen anytime soon. He told me I needed
to go ahead and pin you and finish the match."
"I mean, you probably could have tried to do something a little more elegant than just plopping down on top of us," I point out. "Go for some sort of cool hold, or something."
"I didn't really have a lot of time to think that through," Grant says. "I was worried he was going to hurt you. Besides, it still ended the match and let us get out of there."
I wave my hand through the air to brush off his comments.
"I was fine," I say. "He didn't have any idea what he was doing, and I had him totally at my mercy."
I can tell David is seething, but I lost patience with him almost as soon as I met him. Grant and I have been on our dream-fulfilling travels for a little more than a week, and I'm beginning to understand why this line of work both enthralls and exasperates him.
Another door opens, and the man who presented us with our gear when we first arrived at the venue steps inside.
"That was fantastic, guys. The ending of the match was sort of interesting, but you really got the crowd going. You should consider coming back for another match."
"Definitely!" I say enthusiastically.
"I think we'll probably take a pass on that," Grant says. "But thanks for the offer."
"That's too bad," he says, his eyes roving over Grant, then me, then David, and then back to Grant. "I'd love to watch the three of you on the mat again. It was pretty hot."
There's a suggestive lilt to his voice, and he hands Grant a large envelope, his fingertips run along the back of his hand. The man leaves the room, and Grant turns to me, a bewildered look on his face.
"Well, ok then," he says. He holds the envelope out to David. "And here, David, is your souvenir, along with your trunks and your mask."
"What is it?" David asks, snatching the envelope out of Grant's hand and opening it.
"Prints of the pictures taken by the photographers I had in the audience, and at the side of the ring."
"Pictures?" he asks. "How can you already have prints of pictures of a match that just happened?"
"This isn't my first rodeo, buddy." Grant turns to look at me over his shoulder. "Actually, my first rodeo was two years ago when Archer decided to buy all the animals from a small rodeo. Fun fact."
He's lost even more of his patience with David than I have. I make a sound of acknowledgment, and he turns back to David.
"I'm a professional, David. This is what I do. People come to me because they want me to make experiences happen for them. I take that very seriously, and I also make sure all the details are managed. That includes extensive photography and videography of every experience."
It comes out sounding more like a threat than it does an explanation of his actions, and I wonder if Grant sees something in David I don't.
"I didn't get what I wanted," David says. "You failed at fulfilling my bucket list item."
And there it is.
He has the spoiled, entitled tone of a person who thinks he should have everything in the world handed to him, and is never satisfied by anything. It's probably the type of voice he uses on gullible people who are intimidated by his money and influence. Unfortunately for him, the two people he's in a room with right now couldn't care less about either one of those things.
Grant takes a step toward him, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares directly into David's eyes.
"And what is it that you think I failed at?" he asks in a slow, even tone.
"I wanted to win a match," David says.
And you probably wanted to lick all the snozzberries, too.
"Nothing in your intake paperwork indicates you expected to win a match," Grant says. "You stated you wanted to be involved in a match for a wrestling federation in front of a live audience, during an actual performance. I arranged that for you. You made no specifications about your opponent or the outcome of the match. If you had, I would have told you I'm not in the business of fixing sporting events. When my clients want to be involved in any event that is competition or skill-based, they are going into it purely based on their own merit. They're going into a real environment and will be up against real competitors. I'm not going to create a fairy world for you so you can bounce around the ring and feel good about yourself. You misrepresented yourself in this arrangement, as well as your knowledge of the industry and your physical prowess. That's considered breach of contract. But I'm an honest man, and a man who values the satisfaction of my clients. If you feel you didn't get the opportunity to truly experience your request the way you expected, then I will offer you the opportunity to do it again. I will arrange for us to be a part of the federation's next show, and you will have the opportunity to wrestle again. Against me."
The smug smile on David's face quickly disappears, and I watch the color drain from his cheeks. Without another word, he turns and walks quickly into the locker room. I have a distinct feeling he won't be taking Grant up on his offer. As I untie my own mask, and pull it away, though, Grant's body catches my eye, and the idea of getting him out on the mat by himself flickers through my mind. His wrestling tights leave very little to the imagination, and his sculpted upper body shimmers with oil and sweat. Our eyes meet, and I see him lick his bottom lip as his gaze drinks in my purple and pink tights and matching bra top.
"You really surprised me with how much you knew about wrestling," he says as he swaggers toward me.
"I told you I watched a lot of it when I was younger.”
He comes closer, the heat evident in his eyes.
"I thought you just meant you had seen it, and might be able to prance around the ring and distract him."
"Oh, really?" I ask. "That's the whole reason you wanted me involved? You were just using me as bait?"
"Absolutely," he says. "And I knew what you were going to wear, and I wanted to see you in it."
His hands come to the side of my ribcage and slide down the dip of my waist onto my hips. I mimic a look of fear.
"But what if I hadn't known what I was doing, and he hurt me?" I ask.
Grant shakes his head, biting his bottom lip.
"I wouldn't let him," he says. "I would never let anything happen to you, or this body," he says, pulling me hard against him. His head dips down and I feel the tip of his nose nuzzle my neck, and his warm breath trail down into my cleavage. "Let me have you," he murmurs into my skin.
I nod, and his mouth brushes up the front of my throat and captures mine. I'm trembling with a combination of overwhelming desire and anticipation. My resistance is gone. All the questions have left my mind. I tried to tell myself not to give into the need I feel for him. Not to bring him into the new life I wanted to create for myself. But I can't. I've always been his.
His body presses against mine and pushes me against the wall behind me as our kiss deepens. My lips part beneath his, and his tongue explores my mouth. Grant's hands tighten on my hips as he tilts forward to press the swell of his cock against my belly. I gasp at the feeling of his hard length, and heat flows through me, tingling between my thighs. I need him inside me. I press closer to him, crushing my breasts against his bare chest as my fingers delve into his silky, dark hair, and Grant growls against my mouth.
"I'm oily and sweaty," he mutters.
I nod, not wanting to take my mouth off his.
"I know."
"Then, I guess we need a shower."
In the next instant, Grant scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder. He carries me through the room, and into the locker room. I glance around for any sign of David, but don't see him. Grant brings me into a room with a tiled floor and sets me down on my feet. He drops to his knees, and goes to work unlacing my boots, and pulling them off. I peel away my bra and toss it aside as Grant tucks his finger into the waistband of my tights and pulls them over my hips and legs. I step out of them, and he removes his own before lowering to his knees again. Filling his hands with my hips, he kisses my stomach, then down into the valley between my hip bones. His lips brush from side to side, sending
shivers along my skin. I can feel his breath on my most sensitive parts, and it makes my body instantly respond. One long lick through my folds makes me cry out, and I reach out for Grant's shoulders to stabilize myself. I want more, but instead, Grant stands and takes my hands to pull me through a door into a shower far more luxurious than anything I'd expect in a locker room like this.
He pushes a button on the wall, and a showerhead bursts on over us. Guiding me under the water with him, Grant presses me to the wall and crushes his mouth to mine. Our tongues tangle, and I cling to him, wanting him to envelop me completely. We kiss until he leaves me breathless, then he steps back and lets the water flow over him. Reaching behind him, he fills his hand with gel from one of the dispensers bolted to the wall. Bubbles form across his skin as he runs his hand over his chest and down his stomach. My nipples tighten, and I feel an ache inside me.
I flatten my hands on Grant's chest, and start to lather the soap on his body. His skin is hot and smooth beneath my hands, and I can feel his hard muscles moving as he begins to wash me at the same time. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me, so my legs wrap around his waist. I’m pressed against the wall, his mouth on my neck, his hand slipped beneath my thigh to dip into me, when he lets out a groan, and his head drops down in defeat.
"Shit," he mutters.
"What?" I ask. My heart pounds heavily in my chest. "What's wrong?"
Grant looks into my eyes, then crushes my mouth with an almost violent kiss. He ends it with a frustrated growl and rests his forehead against mine.
"I want to fuck you so bad right now. But I don't have a condom with me."
Disappointment rolls through me, and my body aches even more as he lowers me to my feet, and I slide down his body. I rest my hands on his chest, and they drift down the muscles, feeling the ripples of his belly, then following the line of coarse hair from his navel down to his engorged cock. I can't resist letting my fingers run along the length of his shaft and am rewarded with his sharp intake of breath. Grant takes my hand with his and wraps it firmly around his cock, guiding me to stroke him. When I have the rhythm he wants, he releases my hand, and leans forward to kiss me. I step closer so that as I play with him, the tip of his erection runs along my belly. I can feel him getting harder beneath my hand, and I tighten my grip slightly and stroke faster. Grant's hand brushes my hip, then disappears between us to stroke my clit for a few seconds before breaking our kiss.
Marriage Mistake Page 20