by Toni Aleo
I shrug, noncommittal. “I think I want to drink.”
“Me too. I want to get to know each other, since dinner was the Shea and Jackie Show.” When he takes my hand, his fingers lock with mine, and a slow grin moves over his face. “And let’s be honest, I give that another week or two before Shea gets bored.”
I grin. “You think?”
“I know,” he says with a wink. My stomach clenches, but before I can even enjoy the feeling, he is pulling me with him. We reach the VIP area before I even realize it, and I fully expect James to flash the guy some money. He doesn’t, yet the rope opens. He guides me in with a nod to the bouncer before taking me to a spot in the corner. I sit down as he takes out his phone, typing on it vigorously. “I’m texting Shea so he knows I’m in my spot.”
“Your spot?”
“I sold this place and got the owner one hell of a deal, so he takes good care of me.” Oh. I watch as he orders wine for us from a waitress who has appeared before tucking his phone back into his pocket. He then takes his coat off, laying it across the back of the couch before sitting down beside me. “So.”
I give him a small smile as I lean back in the couch, my eyes on his. “So.”
“So…” he draws out, though his eyes are playful. “Jackie is exhausting, huh?”
I snort. “A bit.”
“That’s why they won’t last. She’s too in his face. He needs someone who will complement him, someone he can protect, someone kind and sweet. Not someone over the top.”
My mouth parts a bit in surprise. “That’s what I think.”
“Well, you’re his twin. You know him better than I do, but I take pride in our friendship.”
“How long have you known him?”
James smiles. “Just about six months. I sold him his place, and we became fast friends. He sucks at golf.”
My face breaks into a grin. “He says he’s good.”
“He’s a liar.”
“He is,” I agree, recrossing my legs, my black high heel dangling off my foot. I see his eyes shoot to where my shoe is hanging before he looks back up at me. I should take in my surroundings, the vibrating music, the lights, and all the people, but when it’s just James and me, I don’t want to look at anything else but him.
“I have a confession.”
My grin grows. I love his eyes. They’re so playful but serious. “Do you?”
“I do,” he says and then leans in, his eyes dancing. “When Shea and I became friends, I remember seeing a picture he kept in his wallet of the two of you. I said you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. And if I ever got the chance to meet you, I would take you out.”
I raise a brow at that. “Yet my brother had to set this up.”
His grin grows. “You do realize you’re sort of intimidating?”
“Me? No!”
“Yes. And I thought telling you the truth, that you were way more qualified than chain-smoking Mandy, would tickle your pickle, but you looked at me stone-faced. You make me nervous.”
I snort with laughter. “You’re insane. Me?”
“You,” he says slowly. “So, yes, your brother set this up. But he won’t set up our next date.”
I blink slowly, my lashes kissing my cheeks. My face hurts from grinning at him. “Who said anything about another date?”
He laughs loudly. “See? You’re busting my chops!”
Our wine comes, and just as it flows, so does our conversation.
“I’ve heard stories of your family—small but loud.”
I smile, missing my mom and dad. “My dad is loud, which makes Shea louder, and then, of course, me by default. Mom is sweet and over the top with her love. Basically, the best mom ever.”
He smiles against his wineglass.
“I miss them greatly. Boston too.”
“Will you go back?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I like it here, and Shea is here.”
He smiles again. “You two are very close.”
“We are.”
“That’s nice. I wish I had that.”
My heart flutters before I swallow hard. “Your parents passed, yes?”
He doesn’t look sad as he nods. “Yes, when I was about six. My grandparents raised me.”
That sobers me up a bit. “I’m very sorry.”
He sends me a soft wink. “Thank you.”
“Any siblings?”
“Nope, my brother died in the car crash too. They were on their way to pick me up from a sleepover.”
My heart aches for the young boy he was. To carry that kind of guilt has to be suffocating.
“I’m okay. Loads of therapy, don’t worry. Don’t get me wrong, I miss them and all, but I don’t blame myself anymore.”
“That had to be tough.”
“Sucked, and I was a bad kid, lots of behavior issues.”
“Seems fair to assume that would happen.”
He shrugs, and his boyish grin makes my heart pitter-patter. “But then I turned into a good teenager. I decided I wanted to make them proud, so I followed in my grandfather’s footsteps and joined his firm. He died when I was twenty, and I inherited everything. So I knew I had to be a great adult. My grandma was very adamant about that. She wanted me to know I had a legacy to uphold. When I lost her, I decided I had no other choice than to be the adult they wanted me to be. To make them proud.”
“So you have no family?”
He shrugs, and I see a bit of sadness in his eyes. “I don’t. I have some cousins who only call when they need money. But for the most part, it’s just me and my firm.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine.”
“I don’t recommend it,” he laughs, but then he shrugs. “But I’m working hard and making sure I am building my future. I work, I try to be kind, I go to church on Sundays, and I happen to think I’m hilarious.”
I smile. “You’re all right.”
He grins. “Which means I’m basically husband material.”
I snort. “You’re insane.”
“Just saying.”
My face warms as I smile against my glass. I must be drunk because I don’t think he’s wrong. Not that I think I’ll marry this guy. That’s crazy. I’m too young for that. But he would be a good marrying type. We share a long look, my body sizzling as I gaze into his eyes.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
I slowly nod. “You’re six years older than me.”
“Oh? You have an age rule?”
“I don’t do more than five.”
His eyes burn into mine. “Can you make an exception?”
I take in a deep breath, my whole body catching on fire. “I think I can.”
“Well, you two look cozy.”
I glance at Shea, who has Jackie leaning into him and a huge, “I’m about to have loads of sex” smile on his face. The fact that I know his sex face should send me to therapy, but instead, I say, “We are. What’s up?”
I feel James’s eyes move over my body as Shea grins down at me. His gaze then shifts to James. “We’re gonna head out. Bro, you think you can take my sister home?”
James is nodding before Shea even finishes his sentence, but I say, “I can get a cab.”
“No way. Cabs aren’t safe,” James says with a shake of his head. “I’ll take you.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to trouble you.”
“You’re absolutely no trouble at all.” His eyes are dark and all-consuming, leaving me breathless as Shea nods, that stupid grin still occupying his face. “Awesome. I’ll be home late—”
“You aren’t staying?” All eyes go to Jackie as she glares, hurt. “You can stay.”
“No, I’ll go back home.” Shea pulls his gaze from her visibly upset one and looks at me. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will,” I say, and then he holds his hand out to James.
“Take care of her.”
“Will do.”
Shea and
Jackie walk away, but she is no longer leaning against him.
I groan. “Ugh. He’s already pulling away.”
James quirks his brow. “What’s wrong with that?”
“She’s gonna fire me the moment he does.”
“Ah. Yeah, I can see that.”
“And I need more time to learn so I can be more marketable.”
James’s hand slides into mine, and our gazes meet. “I think you’re more than marketable. Delectable, actually.”
I try to hold back my laughter, but it doesn’t work. His face breaks into a grin as I lean back into the couch, though my hand stays in his. “Pretty sure I can’t get hired by an event planning company just for being delectable.”
“Shit… I’ll start one just to hire you.”
We share a small smile before I finish off my wine, but when I reach for the bottle, it’s empty. I give him a sideways glance. “We’re out.”
“Blimey! This waitress is not getting a tip,” he says playfully, but he does look for the waitress. I don’t know why I find it hot that he just said blimey, but I do. I actually find a lot about him extremely hot. I move my hand to the inside of his thigh, and he snaps his gaze back to mine. Soon, every part of me is burning hot, and I want nothing more than to go home with him. By the look in his eyes, I think he feels the same.
“I have wine back at my place,” I propose in a very suggestive tone.
He swallows visibly. “Is it a fancy Cab? ’Cause I’m a classy bitch.”
I try once more to hold in my amusement, but I can’t. I snort with laughter as I fall into him. His arms gather me against him, and I inhale deeply. He smells absolutely divine. I tilt my head back to look at him, and his eyes are burning into mine. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest, and this look of adoration is shining in his eyes. That should scare me away, should tell me to get the hell out of here.
Instead, I press my lips to his, and when his mouth opens ever so slightly, I don’t stop myself. I don’t think I could if I wanted to. It’s another warning sign to get the hell out of here, but instead, I grip his neck with my fingers as our kiss deepens.
I might be in a bit of trouble here.
April 3rd
I don’t know if it’s the car ride or the way James drives or what, but by the time we reach the condo, I’m nauseated as all hell.
“You ate, so I don’t understand,” James says softly as he helps me out of his fancy BMW. “My driving isn’t that bad. Oh wait… Are you a lush?”
I groan, holding my stomach as bile tickles the back of my throat. “Don’t make me laugh.”
He gives me a grimace as he takes my hand in one of his and then presses his other to the small of my back. I lean into him, closing my eyes as we slowly make it up the stairs. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“We did finish off three bottles of wine. You drank the last one by yourself.”
“Ugh, so I’m super drunk. You were supposed to take care of me,” I accuse. His hand tightens on mine, and I lean my face into his neck.
“I thought you could handle your wine, you lushy lush, you,” he teases, kissing my forehead. His lips are so warm, so sweet and inviting. I want more, so I go for his mouth, but then my stomach clenches and everything spins.
“Oh shit.”
I move past him, and soon I’m puking my brains out over the railing. Everything is moving, and my head is pounding. I feel James come up behind me. He gathers my hair up, wrapping it around his hand as he slowly rubs my back. He whispers something; I can’t hear him over my loud, gorilla-like puking, but I feel safe. I lean back into him, and his other arm comes around my waist as he holds me. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, taking a deep breath in before looking over my shoulder at him.
“James.”
“Yeah?”
“I think I am a lushy lush.”
He grins before he kisses my temple, his lips lingering as I take in deep breaths. “You’re the prettiest lushy lush I’ve ever met.”
“At least I’m winning there,” I groan as I draw in a breath through my nose, my stomach turning. “After I get this all out—and I brush my teeth—I don’t want you to leave.”
I feel his grin against my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I’ve heard that before, but I doubt he means it the way I would want him to. Wait, do I even want him to mean it that way? No, we’re fucking. We’re having fun. Guys don’t stay. That’s fine.
I’m good.
When we make it inside, I rush to take a shower and throw up some more. I don’t know what exactly I’m doing. I’ve got those stupid butterflies in my gut, and they don’t make sense. I’ve known the guy for ten minutes. We’re gonna bang, and then he’ll be gone. That’s how it works with guys like him. While he is funny and has been a good time, he is stupid rich. He can have anyone; he doesn’t want me. I live with my brother, and I may have separation anxiety where he’s concerned. James wouldn’t want that.
When I come out of the bathroom, I’m in only a towel. James is lying on my bed, his shoes on the floor by the side with his coat on the back of a chair that sits in the corner. He moves his eyes up my legs, over my towel, and then they meet mine, a small little smirk on his lips. “Feel better?”
I nod. “Loads.”
He points to the bedside table, and I smile. “Water and crackers for my lushy lush.”
I walk over to them, throwing a few crackers into my mouth as I lean my thigh into the bed. “Give me a few, and I’ll be ready.”
He brings his brows in. “Ready?”
I give him a goofy grin. “Yeah. I gotta recharge.”
“For what?”
My grin falls. “Seriously? You want me to say it? You into that? Dirty talk?”
He chuckles lightly, his eyes focused on mine. “I mean, I love me some dirty talk, but I’m honestly confused.”
I shoot him an incredulous look. “Sex, James. Sex.”
He seems a little taken aback as he shakes his head. “Oh. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Wait, what?”
“I think you need your rest.”
“Then why are you here?”
“You asked me not to leave,” he says, like it’s that simple.
I blink as he gets up, coming around the bed to my dresser. “Do you have PJs in here?”
I’m still just blinking as he gestures to a drawer. “Yes, and panties.”
He grabs both and then comes back to me. He puts my pajama shirt over my head and smiles. “*NSYNC fan?”
I shrug as I look down at my fantastic *NSYNC concert tee. Shea has a matching one, much to his dismay. “They’re boy wonders. They’re gonna do big things.”
“Yeah, like go to jail. All those child stars do,” he throws back at me before pulling off my towel since my T-shirt covers most of my thighs. He hands me my panties, and I put them on as he goes into the bathroom. When he comes back into the bedroom, he reaches for the remote off the top of the TV and gets back in the bed. He pulls the blankets back for me, and I get in with my water cup and a handful of crackers.
“Well, at one a.m., I’m pretty sure Golden Girls is on.”
I quirk my mouth at the side. “I think so.”
He finds it on the TV, and when he lays down the remote, I look back at him. He smiles before reaching up, cupping my jaw as his thumb moves along my lip. “You all right?”
I nod. “Fine.”
“Great. Lie back, relax. You really need to rest.”
“I’m a bit embarrassed.”
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t be. I just know next time to watch your wine intake.”
I smile. “So, there will be a next time?”
He chuckles. “Oh, Grace. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
His words repeat over and over again in my head, and inside my wine-soaked brain, his words scare the living hell out of me.
And I’m unsure what that means.
>
April 13th
“Mom, stop crying.”
I shake my head as my mom dabs at her tears, watching as Shea skates onto the ice. He looks amazing in his dark-purple jersey, the number six on his back, big and white. His name is bold on the back of the jersey and demands attention, and like my mom, I am more than proud of him. But I’m not going to cry.
“He looks damn good,” Dad says, leaning on the edge of the box we are in.
James’s box.
The past two weeks have been a bit of a blur. I work constantly and so does he, but we find time for each other. I find that he likes to talk on the phone, something I’m not a fan of, but I do because I like to talk to him. He’ll call me on his lunch break or whenever he isn’t swamped with clients. He says it’s to talk about the many stagings I am doing for him, but we never actually talk about work. We talk about everything else, though. Our favorite foods—which we’ve both decided is pizza. Ham and pineapple, to be exact. Our favorite movies—mine is The Cutting Edge, while he is a huge fan of Dead Poets Society. He’s so damn brilliant, and he’s a beast at his job. I heard him on the phone once, and he closed a deal in two minutes flat. He’s just amazing. I love listening to him, and he is so funny. Or, better yet, he’s a huge dork who makes me laugh at every turn.
I’ve never dated someone like him. Wait. That sentence doesn’t make sense because I’m not even sure we’re technically dating or if we’re just hanging out. Usually, I date the stern, sexy-as-hell guys who rock my world in bed but also mindfuck me into thinking I’m not enough. James isn’t like that. He’s goofy and fun, and we haven’t had sex yet, which is absolutely bizarre to me. We’ve had plenty of chances, but he hasn’t made a move. He’s cautious, and the whole thing about me making him nervous is true. I didn’t want to believe it, but I can tell that I affect him. I’m unsure how that makes me feel. Do I like it? Do I hate it? I really just don’t know about him altogether. I’m uncertain. It’s weird.
And scary.
I lean on the edge with my dad, looking out at the ice as Shea takes the puck back into the zone. His eyes are constantly moving, and while I may not be able to see his face clearly from here, I know that’s what is happening. He’s waiting for his forwards so they can set up a play. As I suspected, he skates up, dropping the puck behind him to Welch before both of them enter the zone. The forwards wait, and once they cross the line, they join. Welch passes it to number twelve, who passes it to thirty-seven as Shea goes to the line. He’s poised, waiting for that one-timer.