by L. D. Davis
Grant’s voice came through a small speaker, and I automatically looked up at the small camera mounted just above the door. Walking away was no longer an option. He had most likely seen me already. With some horror, I wondered if he had seen me walking back and forth and talking to myself.
“I’ll be right down,” he said.
I wasn’t sure, but he sounded surprised. That would make two of us because I was still surprised to find myself standing at his door.
A half a minute later, the door opened. Grant stood on the other side of the threshold, and he did, indeed, look surprised—pleasantly so. He didn’t appear to be as sleepy as he had in the morning, but there were still signs of fatigue in his brown eyes.
He reached for my arm and drew me in. “I have to admit, I was not expecting this.”
“I’m still not sure how I got here from work,” I confessed as he closed the door.
He smiled and kissed me softly on the corner of my mouth. Taking my hand, he began to lead me up the stairs.
“You’re just in time for another gourmet meal. Hot dogs and boxed mac and cheese.”
“Oh? Did you tell the fire company to be on standby before you started cooking?”
He laughed lightly and then put an arm around my waist as we reached the top.
“No, I didn’t tell them, but maybe they should be put on alert. Now that you’re here, things may definitely heat up.”
“That was really terrible,” I said, but couldn’t help smiling.
His expression grew serious as he moved his hands to my face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
I could hear Natalie inside, singing to something on the television. I doubted that she could hear us, but I lowered my voice, too.
“I’m never really okay. Are you sure you want to be with someone who is never really okay?”
There wasn’t a trace of doubt in his response. “Yes. I am very sure, but eventually, I want to know why you’re not okay.”
I was given no chance to respond. Grant’s mouth found mine and he kissed me slowly, exploring my mouth carefully. A small sound of satisfaction passed through my lips and vibrated softly between us. He grunted with approval and kissed me deeper, sliding his hands to my neck and then slowly down my back. Just when his fingertips grazed the top of my butt, the door swung open. We jerked apart and peered down at the little person standing in the doorway.
“Hi.” Natalie smiled up at me.
“Hi,” I said back, discretely wiping the corners of my mouth with my fingertips.
When she turned that smile on Grant, he melted into a puddle at his little girl’s feet. He lifted her into his arms and kissed her cheeks, making her giggle.
I wore a small smile as I watched the interaction, but inside I felt like a huge jerk. If Grant had been shot, who would have cared for his kids? If he’d died, they would have been orphans. As I watched him with his daughter, it really hit me how differently things could have gone. With a heart-squeezing guilt, I realized that he’d probably been just as aware of how differently things could have been when he’d seen me in the morning. He probably needed a little bit of comfort in the morning, but I’d been such a dick.
“Let’s eat,” Grant said, taking my hand and giving it a small squeeze.
I forced myself to smile at him—even though I knew he saw right through it—and followed him inside.
After dinner, we played a cut-throat game of Chutes and Ladders that almost ended in bloodshed and tears. In the end, my victory was granted and all ended well without anyone else’s bloodshed or my tears.
Grant got a phone call he had to take in his office a few minutes after that, leaving me alone with his kids. At first, we just watched television, and both kids were silent, but when a commercial came on, Natalie got restless.
She moved from the floor to the couch right beside me. The following statements and questions were accompanied by her touching said objects:
“I like your hair. I like your neckwace. I like your earrwings. Can I wear your watch? Why do you have thwee wrings on your hands? Can I plway a game on your phone? I have brwacelets, too. Can I brwush your hair? Can I paint your nails?”
It was like the kid was an octopus. Her little sticky hands were everywhere all at once, touching, grabbing, and pulling. I felt like I needed to beat her off of me with a stick, and I was honestly considering finding one when she finally settled down and went back into zombie mode for a few minutes and watched some more television.
“She’s really annoying,” Alex said, shaking his head.
“Tell me about it,” I muttered, readjusting my hair and jewelry.
We had a few more quiet minutes before Natalie blinked from her television stupor and peered at me curiously as she wriggled around like a worm. I looked at her warily, expecting her grubby little hands on some part of me again.
“Why don’t you want kids?” she asked, picking up a conversation from Saturday I thought was over. “Don’t you like babies?”
Both kids looked at me, waiting for an answer.
“I like babies. I just don’t want to have any of my own.”
The wiggle worm wasn’t satisfied. “Why not?”
I couldn’t very well tell the children the real reasons I didn’t want to have kids. I would traumatize them for life. Instead, I gave them one piece of truth.
My voice dire, I said, “Babies smell like poop.”
Natalie and Alex both began to laugh as if I had just said the most hilarious thing ever. I didn’t think it was really as funny as it was true but watching their innocent amusement made me start laughing, too. Soon, all three of us were cracking up.
My heart warmed and hurt at the same time as I watched Natalie, though. Her nose scrunched up like her aunt’s had and her laugh had the same musical quality as Sharice’s laughter. I was sad for the life that was cut short, for my friend who never got to see her niece and nephew, but I was glad that Natalie was so much like Shari. It was like having a piece of her left with us in the realm of the living.
Grant came out of his office looking rather tense but then paused at the sight of his children and me giggling. The tension in his body eased and he smiled contentedly at us.
“All right, Nat,” he said, bending over to pick up a couple of toys. “It’s time to get into your pajamas.”
More than an hour passed by the time Natalie fell asleep and Alex went to bed. Grant looked like he was ready for bed himself by the time the kids were settled, blinking too much and yawning frequently. I felt pretty sleepy, too, having lost sleep Saturday and Sunday nights.
“I guess this is where you tell me that you have to get home to your dog,” Grant said and yawned.
I hadn’t forgotten about Dusky. I asked my neighbor to take him out for a walk, but he would have to be walked again by the time I got home. I wasn’t looking forward to that or the ride back. I didn’t know what I would do if I saw that man again.
My apology was sincere as I pulled my keys out of my purse. I wanted to carry them in my hand for both self-defense and to get into my apartment building quickly.
“I’m sorry, but I do have to get home to my dog. Having a dog is like having a child…except, you know, with a lot less responsibility.”
Grant filled a glass with filtered water from the fridge and sipped at it as he stared at me contemplatively.
I stared back at him for a few moments, until I got tired of trying to figure out what was going through his mind. “What?”
“I don’t want you to be sorry, Mayson. I want you to stay.”
I began to object, even as my heart skipped a few beats, but Grant’s voice overrode mine. He wasn’t loud or aggressive. In fact, his voice was soft, but he spoke resolutely, in an authoritative tone that could not be ignored.
“I told you earlier that I needed you. That hasn’t changed. I am man enough to admit that I need the comfort of your body next to mine. I need to feel every breath you take and m
y hands on your skin. If I wake up in the night, I need to feel the weight of you in my arms.”
He put his glass down and came to me as I stood frozen in place. His fingers played with a few strands of hair on my cheek and one hand held my hip possessively.
“I don’t know what happened to you between the time you left here Saturday night and when I saw you this morning, but I don’t want it to happen again. I need you here tonight for you just as much as I need you here for me.”
I stared up at him with my mouth open and my heart pumping too hard. I felt like kissing him until our lips were numb, but I also felt like crying. I wanted to rest my head on his chest and bawl until long after my tears ran dry.
Taking advantage of my open mouth, Grant kissed me. It was so damn soft, I barely felt the pressure of his lips. It was the kind of kiss that was full of unspoken emotions and unfulfilled needs. It made me want to chase his mouth as he pulled away, to bring his mouth back to mine and communicate what I felt and to give him what we each needed.
Before I could give chase, however, Grant stepped back with a small grin and held up a set of keys. It took me several seconds to realize they were my own keys that I had been holding in my hand. I didn’t even notice him take them from me.
“What are you doing?” I asked slowly.
“I’m going to go get your dog so you won’t have any excuses to leave here tonight.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s entrapment.”
Grant shrugged as he moved past me toward the door.
“Maybe I want to sleep in my own damn bed tonight,” I snapped as I went after him.
He ignored what I said and kept on walking, not even pausing to speak over his shoulder. “Keep an eye on the kids.”
He was out the door before I could reach him. By the time I made it out, he was almost down the stairs.
“Grant Alexander!” I whisper shouted so I wouldn’t wake the monsters. I wanted to run down the stairs after him, but I didn’t have my shoes on and I wasn’t thrilled about walking on concrete barefoot.
He grinned up at me just before getting into the Land Rover.
“Better go make yourself comfortable, because you’re not going anywhere tonight, Baby Girl.”
He chuckled when I gave him the finger and told him to go fuck himself. Then he was gone.
Chapter Twelve
I was asleep on the couch in the nook when Grant finally returned. I was awoken by Dusky licking my hand excitedly and trying to climb into my lap. Too sleepy to be bothered, I tried to push him away.
“Go lay down,” I murmured without opening my eyes.
Grant began to pull me to my feet. “Come on.”
“You go lay down, too,” I said irritably as I tried to push his hands off me.
He chuckled. “Only with you, Baby Girl.”
I opened my eyes and let him pull me up. He kissed my temple and began to guide me toward his bedroom with one arm wrapped around me. Anxiety suddenly swelled inside at that thought. It wasn’t my first time sleeping in a bed with Grant, but it was my first time sleeping in a bed with Grant in more than thirteen years. Hell, I hadn’t slept with any man in a bed in years.
I looked up at his face to try to gauge his thoughts and feelings. He smiled down at me, but I didn’t see lust or anything like it in his eyes. He just seemed exhausted. When I started to look away, my eye caught a familiar hot pink strap over his shoulder. My eyebrows shot up.
“Why do you have my duffel bag?”
“I needed something to put your clothes and toiletries in. I even grabbed a couple dresses for you out of your closet. They’re still hanging up in the car, but I’ll get them for you in the morning.”
I stopped just as we reached the hallway to the bedrooms and pulled away from him.
“You went through my closet?” My eyes widened as another realization hit me. “You went through my underwear drawer?” I shrieked.
“Sshhh!” He put a finger to my lips and glanced down the hall behind me.
I smacked his finger away from my mouth and put my hands on my hips as I glared at him.
“It’s bad enough that you stole my keys and deserted me here with your spawn, but then you stole my dog and rooted through my closet and panties!”
“Keep it down,” he quietly commanded, but he wore a smile on his lips. He was so amused that he was almost laughing, which only fired me up more.
I managed to keep my voice down when I demanded, “What is so funny?”
“You are.” He put a hand on my waist and forcefully pulled me close. His head dropped close to mine as he peered into my eyes. “Stop trying to start a fight just because you’re nervous.”
“I’m not—”
“You are, but we’re just going to sleep tonight. I promise.”
I looked at him with distrust, but other than bending the truth about our reunion, Grant wasn’t one to lie. His face was open and honest.
“Okay,” I said with some reluctance. “But I’m still not happy about you going through my underwear.”
He gave me a one shoulder shrug and a grin. “Well, I rather enjoyed it.”
I punched his arm, unamused. He rubbed at the spot, laughing quietly. Dusky came over to investigate, doggy-smiling up at us. It reminded me of how Nat had grinned up at us earlier. They were both cute, but one was hairier, and I knew for sure that Dusky was housebroken. I couldn’t say the same about Natalie.
I rubbed his furry head affectionately—Dusky’s, not Grant’s.
“Did you have any problems getting my boy?”
Grant groaned. “Your neighbor thought I was trying to rob you. He came at me, dukes up, and asked me if I wanted to tussle.”
I laughed so loud that he had to put a hand over my mouth.
My neighbor, Mr. Gibbons, was about two hundred years old, ninety pounds soaking wet, and was probably only a little more than half Grant’s height.
“Why do you make that little old man walk your big ass dog?”
“I don’t make him,” I said, still giggling. “He offers since he has his own dog to walk.”
“You mean that yappy little Chihuahua? Dusky can eat them both in one bite and still have room for dessert after.”
I grinned. “I’m still waiting for him to eat you. So, how did you handle Mr. Gibbons?”
“I told him I was your boyfriend.” He raised an eyebrow as if he dared me to argue. “I had to show him the video Alex shot of us earlier.”
When we had played Chutes and Ladders, Grant and I got into an argument. The kids had found it hilarious and Alex recorded twenty seconds of me throwing game pieces at Grant and calling him a cheater.
“He believes I’m your boyfriend, but now he also believes that I cheat on you,” he said, sighing. “He threatened to castrate me and to shove my balls down my throat if I hurt you.”
I laughed softly. “He’s the sweetest old man.”
“Hmm.” He sounded doubtful as he took my hand. “Let’s go to bed.”
I’d been inside Grant’s bedroom on Saturday when I had to change out of my wet clothes. His bed had been neatly made that day, but now it looked slept in. I stared at it and pictured how his body had lain in the bedding. I knew the sheets and pillows probably smelled heavily of him. The urge to crawl into the bed and wrap myself in the sheets was overwhelming.
Grant passed me my duffel bag, forcing me to look away from the bed. I was surprised when he looked at me with uncertainty. He almost seemed shy as his eyes kept darting away from mine.
“I wasn’t sure what to grab for you to wear to bed, so I didn’t get anything.”
My eyebrows went skyward. “Were you expecting me to sleep in just my bra and panties?”
“As appealing as that sounds, I thought that I’d lend you another T-shirt and lounge pants if you want them.”
I felt my cheeks warm as blood rushed to my face. We stood a couple feet apart, both looking rather awkward and unsure like a pair of teenagers—well, normal
teenagers. Not the kind of teenager I had been.
I swallowed hard and softly responded. “I’ll just have the T-shirt. You know I hate having anything on my legs when I’m in bed.”
His voice was just as soft as he gazed at me. “I remember.”
I stared back at him, afraid to move. As comfortable as I was with my body, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to change in front of him. For that matter, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to change in front of me, either.
Dusky broke the tension when he sat down in front of me and whined.
“I left his bowls and food in the car,” Grant murmured, snapping back to reality. “Your neighbor fed him, but he might get thirsty and I’m not too thrilled about him drinking toilet water.”
“Did you walk him?”
“Yeah, just before we came home. I’ll go get his things and your dresses.”
He left and I sighed with relief. While he was gone, I hurriedly rooted through his dressers—guilt free since he did root through mine—and found a T-shirt. I went into the master bath and opened up my duffel bag. I was relieved to find the big makeup bag I kept on my bathroom sink in there. It contained a little bit of everything, including a toothbrush, deodorant, and feminine hygiene products—which I was happy I didn’t need. By the time I finished my business, brushed my teeth, and let my hair down, I could hear Grant moving around in the bedroom.
I inhaled deeply before opening the door. I stepped into the bedroom, nervously tugging on the T-shirt as I tried to cover my thighs. As Grant stood beside the bed watching me, shirtless and in low-hanging lounge pants, I began to regret my no-pant stance.
My eyes moved to his bare skin. He had really toned up since the last time I saw him shirtless. His chest was hairless, probably shaved off or waxed away, but there was a fine line of hair that started at his navel and disappeared under his pants. I made a concentrated effort to look away from that region of his body. When I looked at his face again, I discovered that his eyes were on my bare legs.
“Your dresses are hanging in my closet,” he said abstractedly.