A deep chuckle came through the phone. “That’s a lot of big words for someone who’s half asleep.”
“Douche is a big word?” I scoffed as I flicked on the electric kettle. A cup of tea would settle the ache of hunger in my belly. “And I’m awake now, thanks to you,” I told him, turning around to open the fridge and get the milk.
“I heard the fridge,” he told me as I slammed it shut. “Are you having a late-night binge?”
“I wish,” I muttered as I turned and grabbed a teaspoon from the cutlery drawer.
“You should eat if you’re hungry.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter while I waited for the kettle to boil. “The industry I work in doesn’t allow for that kind of luxury, Casey.”
There was a pause. “Then you should quit. No amount of money is worth starving yourself.”
Thinking of what that amount of money had done to pay medical bills, tuition for my brother and sisters, and give them a future, I couldn’t agree. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. “You’re wrong,” I told him around the lump in my throat. “You’re dead wrong, Casey.”
“I’m wrong? Really?” His voice turned hard. “I’m disappointed you put money above all else, Slim. I didn’t realise you were so superficial.”
“You asshole!” Hurt welled in my chest. “What gives you the right to sit in judgement of me? You know nothing about me and my life. You know what? Fuck you. This whole do-over was a mistake.”
“Touchy subject, huh?”
“Arrghhhh!” I tossed the teaspoon at the sink. The resulting clank was loud in the quiet kitchen.
“Shit. Slim.” Casey exhaled sharply. “You’re right. I don’t know anything about you and your life. You want to hear what I do know?”
I wanted to tell him to shove what he knew up his ass, along with his apology and the new phone, and despite the anger, I almost laughed, thinking it was getting crowded in there, but he continued before I got a word out.
“What I do know is that you have an issue with food. If the amount you ate at dinner on Sunday night was normal for you, then I have no idea how you find the energy to get up each day. I know you get photographed for a living. I googled and saw pictures of you that took my breath away. I know that when your older brother needed you, you dropped everything in an instant to be there for him. I know you’re good at making threats but your follow-up could probably do with some work. You have a soft spot for aggressive little dogs that nobody else wants. You’re crazy beautiful when you’re angry—your eyes become like some wild, windswept ocean that a man could drown in and die happy. I know that nothing is sexier than you half asleep in bed, and after seeing your photo message without all that makeup on your face…” there was a pause before his voice got huskier “…I now know you have a sprinkling of freckles across your nose that I have a desperate urge to kiss.”
Dazed, I slid slowly down the kitchen cabinets as he spoke. How could he do that—piss me off and make my body melt into a puddle on the floor at the same time? I barely knew him.
“There’s something else I know,” he continued. “Somehow, somewhere along the way, something happened to make you think your self-worth was based only on how much money you earned.”
“No.” My voice came out hoarse so I cleared my throat. “Maybe when I was younger I felt that way, but not anymore.” I’d made the declaration on the phone to John that my new life started now. I had all intentions of following through. I wasn’t going to feel sorry for myself or sorry for the choices I made. I was just going to start making those choices for me now rather than everyone else.
“What happened when you were younger?”
I moved my hand away from my mouth when I realised I was chewing my thumbnail. “You heard some of Henry’s stories. That was me all the time. I was a difficult child.”
The light flicked on, flooding the dark kitchen into brightness. I hissed and burrowed my face into my knees. I tried opening my eyes against the blinding glare and failed. Covering them instead, I peeked through my fingers to find Henry standing in the kitchen. The left side of his hair was sticking up and pillow creases lined his cheek.
“Grace?” His brows were raised as he stood looking down at me. “What are you doing?”
Casey was silent on the line while Henry spoke.
“I’m trying to make a cup of tea.”
He paused. “In the dark while sitting on the kitchen floor?”
Henry sounded incredulous, as though such a feat was impossible to perform. “You think it can’t be done?” Casey’s laugh came through the phone. “Stop laughing,” I told him.
Henry shuffled over to the sink and filled a glass with tap water. He turned around eyeing me as he took a sip. “Who’s on the phone?”
I opened my mouth to answer when Casey said quickly, “Don’t say it’s me.”
“What? Why?”
“Grace?” Henry prompted.
“Just a friend,” I told him as I pushed up off the floor.
“Am I being friend-zoned?” Casey sounded annoyed.
“Seriously?” Shifting the phone from one ear to the other, I dusted off my hands. “You know that term was created by men with overinflated egos who, for some unfathomable reason, can’t understand why a girl doesn’t want to have sex with them.”
Henry’s hand jerked, spilling water down his chest. His brows rose at me inquisitively as he wiped himself dry with the tea towel.
I rolled my eyes. After saying goodnight to my brother, I left him to his water and headed back to my room.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Slim,” I was told as I made my way back up the stairs. I could hear the smirk in Casey’s voice. It was louder than my growling stomach after being denied sustenance. “I haven’t mentioned the possibility of us getting naked together.”
“Oh, of course. Because that whole I didn’t say where I wanted to kiss you thing in the limo had nothing to do with getting naked.”
“That’s right.” Casey’s voice deepened. “You don’t need to get naked for that. All I need to do is kneel between your thighs and slip your panties to the side.”
Heat.
Waves of it slammed my body until I was on fire. Damn him. I climbed back under the sheets and buried my face under the pillow, as if hiding would somehow cool me off. It was either that or slip my hand beneath my panties to ease the ache.
“Grace?”
“I’m here,” I replied breathlessly from beneath the pillow. “Is this phone sex now? Because I’m not having phone sex with someone I barely know. In fact, I’ve never had phone sex. With anyone. Ever.”
Casey’s voice perked up. “Really?”
I groaned. Why did I just say that?
“We should get to know each other better.”
I pushed the pillow off my face and filled my lungs with air. “Now? I need sleep. And why couldn’t I tell Henry it was you on the phone?”
“So we’re putting the whole phone sex thing on ice?”
“Casey! What’s going on with you and Henry? The other day you seemed like friends. Now I’m not supposed to be talking to you on the phone?”
Casey sighed. “He doesn’t want me seeing you.”
“He might have mentioned that,” I admitted. “But he didn’t say why.”
“You want the long story or the short story?”
“It’s late,” I mumbled, feeling drowsy again now that I was back in bed. “Give me the short story.”
“He thinks I’m going to get you hurt.”
Henry was playing the big brother card? I mulled that over in my head, unsure of how it made me feel. “Why would you get me hurt, Casey?”
“Telling you why is the long story.”
I suddenly decided I wanted the long story. And more of Casey. “We’re having a barbecue here tomorrow night. You should come. You can tell me the long story.”
“Tomorrow night? Thursday night?”
“Yes,” I re
plied decisively. “Thursday night.”
“Are you sure about this, Casey?” Tim yelled through the bathroom door. Having just showered, I had a towel wrapped around my hips as I shaved in preparation for tonight’s date with Morgan.
“Sure about what?” I called back.
“About tonight.”
I leaned close to the mirror, swiping the razor down the left side of my jaw. “What are you talking about?” I asked, pulling back and rinsing the blade in the sink. “It’s just a date, Tim. I’m not asking her to marry me.”
“What about Grace?” he asked as I leaned in again.
I paused, the razor hovering near my chin. Yeah, idiot. What about Grace?
Grace had surprised me with her invitation. I almost blew off my date with Morgan and said yes. Somewhere in the middle of our phone conversation, my heart had tripped over and hadn’t recovered its normal beat since. I liked it. I liked her. So much that I wanted more nights on the phone like last night. Listening to her laugh in that husky voice made my cock ache in the best possible way.
Walking over to the bathroom door, I opened it and looked at Tim. He ran his eyes over me and blinked. After clearing his throat, his gaze fixated on my chest.
“Tim?” I barked to get his attention.
His gaze moved to my jaw and he huskily said, “You … ah … missed a spot.”
I stalked back to the basin. Picking up the small towel resting nearby, I scrubbed it over my face. I turned back to Tim as I tossed the towel in the general direction of the sink. “What do you mean ‘what about Grace?’ What do you know?”
Tim suddenly looked everywhere but at me.
I arched a brow, waiting silently. Tim hated silence. It made him twitchy and more willing to talk.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That brow thing.”
With a roll of my eyes, I folded my arms impatiently.
His eyes widened on my biceps. “Don’t do that either.”
“What the fuck, Tim. You’re gonna make me late. Just spit out whatever it is you know so I can get going, okay?”
“I heard you on the phone with Grace last night,” he blurted out.
My eyes narrowed, annoyed that my private conversation hadn’t been so private after all. “You were listening?” Unfolding my arms, I stalked past him and into my room to get dressed.
Tim followed behind. “Not exactly. I mean, I’m staying on your couch. Its general location isn’t far from your bedroom. It’s not that I heard your exact conversation, but I heard your tone. It was low and flirty. And you were talking for well over an hour. You! Jesus, Casey, you’re one hell of a charming bastard, but when faced with a dreaded phone conversation, you turn into a boring mute.”
Tim kept up his verbal diarrhoea as I walked to my dresser. Knowing we were only going to the movies and not somewhere upscale, I yanked a casual black shirt from the drawer and went to tug it on. It was snatched from my hands.
“Not that one,” I was told when he took a breath. Tim folded it carefully and put it back in the drawer. He pulled out my vintage blue and black Sex Pistols shirt. “This one.” He held it out to me. “It’s way sexy.”
I took it without comment, shrugging it on and smoothing a hand down my chest. The fit was a little more snug than I remember it being. “It’s not too tight?”
Tim paused, appearing taken aback at the question. “You’re kidding, right? With your body? There’s no such thing as too tight.”
I rolled my eyes as I rummaged in the next drawer down for a clean pair of jeans. “I’m your boss, Tim.”
“And your point is? I’ve seen you naked.” My eyes went wide as I stopped to look at him. “Almost,” he amended. “I mean, those running shorts you wear? You may as well be.”
I shook my head as I yanked open another drawer in the hunt for clean jeans. He watched me for a moment.
“So you’re sure about tonight then?”
“Yes!” I reiterated, annoyance clear in my tone. Tim was like a dog with a bone.
“It’s just … I know you don’t get by on flirtation alone,” he told me. “But I’ve never known you to play more than one girl at a time. All of a sudden you’re dating Morgan and what, keeping Henry’s sister on the side? It’s obvious you like Grace,” he said loudly when I starting shaking my head. “Well, it is to me anyway. So what I don’t get is, why is Morgan in the picture?”
Finding a pair of jeans, I shook them out, ready to put them on. Lifting my chin at the door pointedly, I said, “You mind?”
“You’re not a player, Casey.”
I shrugged off the disappointment in Tim’s voice and forced a cocky grin. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” I told him with a wink.
With a loud huff, he spun on his heel, leaving me to finish getting dressed. After tugging on my jeans, I sank to the edge of the bed. I needed a drink. Something strong.
After, I promised myself. Then you can self-medicate the haemorrhage so it stops hurting for a little while.
As promised, midnight saw me sitting on the couch in the dark. A half-empty bottle of scotch sat next to an empty glass on the coffee table in front of me. It was quiet with Tim and Coby still out at the barbecue. Too quiet. I needed noise. Something to distract my mind from Grace. From the fact that just thinking of her made breathing difficult.
This is how obsession starts, Casey. With alcohol and some girl you see every time you close your eyes.
I poured another glass and stretched out, my head tipping back against the couch as the scotch slid down my throat. The gratifying burn of alcohol drew me a little further from reality as I reflected on my date with Morgan. It had upped the complication factor of my life for the sole reason it meant seeing her again. Sitting in a movie hadn’t been the best place to hold a conversation, so I’d taken her to Kingsley’s on the wharf for a late dinner. I didn’t discuss specific details with her. I kept my questions indirect, knowing her natural detective curiosity would pave the way.
“I have a case I’ve been puzzling out for a long time,” I’d mentioned offhandedly.
Her eyebrows had risen in interest. “Yeah? What case?”
I shrugged, my gaze shifting from her to the outside view when I felt the familiar burn in my eyes. “An old homicide. I was given informal permission to look into the case.”
She nodded thoughtfully, not even questioning my clearance, or lack thereof in this instance. “You want me to run my eye over what you have? Sometimes a fresh eye can help.”
“It’s not fresh eyes I need, but information. I don’t think I have all of it. Actually, I know I don’t have all of it. The files aren’t in the system or in archives.”
I searched her face, trying to read her reaction to my words. The waiter chose that moment to stop by. Morgan held out her glass when he offered a refill. When he disappeared, she smiled slowly as she swirled the wine in her glass.
Her voice turned husky. “Maybe I can help. We can get together on the weekend and go from there?”
My lips curved.
Bingo.
After leaving the restaurant, she grabbed my shirt and pulled me close, plastering her lips on mine. I responded automatically, willing myself to feel something, a twitch of my cock at the least, but I got nothing.
Morgan broke away and licked her lips before smiling suggestively. “Come back to my place?”
I couldn’t believe the timing of her phone ringing before I could reply. She answered it and after a quick conversation, hung up with a grimace. “I have to go,” she said irritably.
I was too busy welcoming the sudden reprieve to question the phone call and subsequent mood change. “Can I drive you home?”
“Actually, I think I’ll just get a cab,” she told me, her expression pained.
“Everything okay?”
Morgan fumbled with her phone, tapping out a message. “Yeah.” She sighed. “Just a big brother who keeps interfering in my shit. He’s just tu
rned up at my place. He wants to see me and God forbid I don’t do what the fuck he says.”
I stepped up to the kerb and hailed her a cab. “Sounds like an asshole,” I said to her over my shoulder. I didn’t want to interfere, but if he was the type of asshole that got violent, then I should at least make sure she was okay. “Sure you don’t want me to take you home?”
“Uh, no. I’m good.”
I opened the car door for her and after hopping in, Morgan wound down the window so I leaned in.
Meeting my eyes, she said, “Call me, okay? We’ll set something up for the weekend. I can’t wait to get my hands on you again.”
I could wait and it should’ve surprised me. Morgan was hot, and I was never one to turn down a good fuck. But that was before Grace. It seemed the only woman I wanted right now was her.
After quickly pressing her lips against mine again, Morgan gave the driver her address. I waved briefly before walking the few blocks home to my loft. I needed that drink I’d promised myself.
Leaning forward on the couch, I tugged my phone from my pocket before sitting back. Scrolling down the contacts, I found Grace and dialled. Putting the phone to my ear, I waited, wanting to hear her voice and feeling like an asshole because I had no right to want it.
“Batman!” she answered, sounding drunk and happy.
“Hey, Slim,” I murmured, feeling better already. “How’s your night going?”
“Oh God. So good, but it just went downhill really fast,” she slurred.
Before I could reply, a bloodcurdling scream pierced my ear through the phone, causing my heart to thump in panic. “Grace?” I shot to my feet. “Grace? Are you there?”
“Oh God,” she moaned. “It’s getting worse.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, my tone urgent.
“No,” she whispered in the phone. “I’ll never be okay again. Ever. Never ever in my whole life. I’m gonna be—”
I heard her gag.
“Do you need me there?” I was already reaching for keys and shoes and when I heard another shrill scream, I said in the phone, “I’m on my way.”
I stumbled over the coffee table when the floor shifted under my feet. There was no way I could drive.
Give Me Grace Page 12