Waking up to her in my place had done something to me. It was the first time I’d ever let a woman stay over, and it had never even crossed my mind. Not until after she’d left and Fin had decided to lay his two cents on me.
“You’ve got it bad, man.”
“What are you talking about?” I said as I loaded the dishwasher.
He raided the fridge, pulling out a beer.
“It’s eight in the morning,” I said, knowing good and well it didn’t mean shit to Finley.
“Don’t change the subject. I know that look in your eyes. I’ve seen it in my own eyes. You’re in love.”
I snorted at the thought, though the snort died off as his words sank in. As every fiber in my body seemed to embrace the truth my brain was still trying to deny. I knew I was into her. More than I’d ever been with anyone. But in love?
Sitting on my couch, I stared at the projection on the wall. Tonight had all been for her. To show her how I felt. I hadn’t expected her to give herself to me like she had. Fuck. She was so achingly sexy. Pure and good. Making her come was only the start of what I wanted to do to her.
She had a power about her. A pull I didn’t want to ignore.
I wasn’t sure when I drifted off, but sometime in the middle of the night, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I cracked one eye open at the brightness of the screen. It was a message from Prim.
I sat up.
I’m sorry for leaving like I did. I just … I needed time to think. It was all so much, and you’re so good to me. What happened tonight was nothing short of amazing, and I’m glad those firsts were with you. But there’s something I need to explain to you, and it has to be done in person. Tomorrow?
I typed back.
Sure. How does lunch sound?
Though I was relieved to hear from her, I couldn’t ignore the latter part of the message. What could she need to tell me that couldn’t be done over the phone? Was she religious? Had she broken a vow with me? Was she sick? My stomach lurched at that thought. What if she had something terminal? The thought of this earth spinning without her on it didn’t make sense. My mind raced with an onslaught of reasons, but none added up.
All I could do was wait.
For her, I’d wait forever.
***
The following morning, I made it to work earlier than normal. Since I couldn’t sleep to save my life, I’d decided to get up and go for an early morning jog. I moved through the day with countless meetings distracting my thoughts from Prim.
Until Harrison paid me a visit …
“Who is she?” Harrison pushed an iPad in front of me.
Near the headline was a picture of Prim and me at the pop-up museum. Her lips pressed to mine as she stood on her toes. My hands on her waist, eyes squeezed shut.
I could still taste her. Feel the satin of her skin.
“Prim. You met her at the—”
“No, I know who she is, Grayson. I mean, who is she?”
“She’s my …” Well, who was she to me? She felt like … like … my girlfriend.
“Do you even know anything about her?”
A derisive chuckle broke from me. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” It was his tone that caught me off guard. That had the short-lived chuckle die off. “Since you seem to only be thinking with your dick, I had my friend do some digging. She works at Virago. Did you know that?”
To say my stomach bottomed out was an understatement. Virago. The blog that tried to discredit damn near every post written by Stud. Virago. The blog run by Quinn, who openly disliked me.
That was it. That was why Prim had run.
Why? Why would she hide that from me? So what? It was a job. And although our jobs might be star-crossed, that didn’t mean we couldn’t work it out.
Unless … unless there’s something more to it …
My shoulders offered a limp shrug as a hoard of boulders were dumped behind my rib cage. “So?” I busied myself with cleaning my desk. “Lots of women work there.”
“But did she tell you?”
I stilled.
“Damn it, Grayson. What if Quinn set her up to this? You and I both know that woman’s capable of anything. Prim could be using you. Trying to get an ear in on what we’re doing here.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” I said, a jolt of anger straightening my spine. “You don’t know the first thing about her. Prim is good, Harry. She’s never once asked about you or this blog. She’d never do that to me.”
His gaze softened in a way that burned a hole through my heart. “Are you sure about that?”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. The door shut behind him as I stood there, staring into space.
Why hadn’t she told me where she worked? What purpose was there to keeping it a secret?
The phone buzzed on my desk. Pressing the button, I said, “Yes?”
“There’s someone here to see you,” Gwen said.
“Who?”
“Primrose Amberly.”
Lunch. Of course.
I pulled in a tight breath. She wanted to tell me this in person. She wanted to come clean. Harry was wrong. My heart hammered off-kilter against my chest.
Straightening my tie, I said, “Send her in.”
She wore a tentative smile, holding up a paper bag when she came in. “I come bearing food.” There were faint circles under her eyes. A downward slope to her lips.
“I like food.” My smile was strained as I watched her hand tremble when she set the bag on my desk.
I moved around the wooden structure and then pulled her into my arms. Almost desperately.
“I missed you,” she said, her lips against my neck.
Though I was scared, my heart and body couldn’t help but react to her. “I missed you too.” Letting her go, I pulled out one of the chairs in front of my desk.
She fiddled with her hands against her lap. When she wouldn’t meet my eyes, it rattled loose the truth Harry had left behind. I’d wait to speak it. No matter what, she deserved the benefit of the doubt. I knew what it felt like to be judged and left to the wind because someone had already made up their mind and wouldn’t stop to listen—really listen—to the facts.
“Grayson, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.”
That cloud, that unsettled gray cloud I’d seen before, blew in. I swore my heart stopped beating. Harrison’s words hammered at my thoughts as I watched her squirm in her chair.
“How so?”
“I, um … well, I … there’s really no good way of saying this.” She let out a breath. “I work at Virago. Well, that’s not technically true either. I’m on a probation period. If all goes well, by the end of the month, then I’ll work for Virago.”
The moment she said those words, I let out a huge sigh. “Would you believe that Harrison told me this morning? Just before you got here.” A hitched exhale rolled past my lips as my shoulders relaxed a little. “You could have told me.”
“But how could I? How would that have made me look when you found out? Knowing I worked for your biggest rival would have been reason enough for you to walk away without a backward glance.”
My expression softened. “Knowing me like you do now, do you really think I wouldn’t have listened to what you had to say? That I wouldn’t have given you a chance to explain?”
Her eyebrows dipped. “You mean … you’re not mad?”
“Mad? No. Disappointed? A little … I wish you had trusted me with the truth.”
Her sigh was brittle. “I didn’t tell you because, well, as you know—”
“Our blogs—well, our bosses don’t get along.”
“Exactly,” she continued. She nibbled her bottom lip, eyes glassy. “You don’t know how long I’ve struggled with wanting to tell you. And I tried. I really did. It just never felt like the right time. You see, I have this problem with confrontation,” she continued, her voice a little higher, rambling as I’d seen her do before when she was nervous. “M
y sister says I procrastinate too much. I mean, I guess I do considering …” She laughed, the sound fluttery and uneven. “And Quinn, well, she wanted—”
I pulled her against me before she could finish. Seeing the worry in her eyes tore at me. Made me want to scoop her up in my arms and kiss away her fears. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. Don’t ever be afraid to be honest with me, Prim. That’s all I ever want from you.” I paused and then laughed, shaking my head.
“What?”
“It’s just … Harry actually thought Quinn had put you up to something. I told him you wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, I—”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t believe him. I trust you, Prim,” I said as I buried my nose in her neck. “Because if that were true, you and I wouldn’t be a thing.”
When I pulled back, she was looking away. Fumbled with the paper bag she’d brought. “I-I brought you this. It’s my specialty.” She reached for the bag on my desk and then pulled out a Tupperware container. Nearly spilled its contents when she pried off the lid. Inside were tiny sausages rolled in biscuits. “Pigs in a blanket,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know it isn’t fancy. With four sisters, I didn’t get much time in the kitchen.”
“My aunt used to make these for me as an after-school snack.” I picked one up and then bit into it. “If nostalgia has a taste, this is it.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
As I munched on what she’d brought, I noticed something was off about her. She was quieter than normal. Almost … almost as if she were avoiding eye contact. If I had to guess, I’d peg it to being unsure about what had happened the night before. I’d been with enough women to know that look. Uncertainty. A need to know where she stood but a will not to ask.
“About last night,” I said as I set the container on my desk and dusted my hands off.
“Grayson, you don’t have—”
I held my hand up. “Just hear me out. Last night, I did all that to show you how I feel about you.” I took her hands between mine. “Because I’m falling for you. Because … because I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”
When she jolted, I chuckled. I watched her posture melt. The smile I’d fallen for surfaced.
“Me?” she asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Even I was shocked by how easy I’d found the words. By how right it felt to call her my girlfriend. A term that had once been comparable to a trap in my head. But as I sat across from her, from the woman who peeled away every one of my reservations, I knew I meant it to my soul.
“Yes, you.”
“Really?”
“Truly.”
She leaped into my arms, peppering my face with kisses. I couldn’t stop the laughter that seemed to pour from my soul. The happiness that wrapped around my heart.
“And I want to make it official,” I said, feeling on a high. “Can you be ready around eight tonight? I want to take you out. Show you off.”
“Eight is perfect.”
A ding pinged from the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled her phone out, knuckling her glasses again. “Oh, damn. It’s Quinn. She needs me to pick up coffee for her and Lydia. I should …”
I grinned. “Looks like she has her claws in deep. Don’t let her play you as the puppet for too long. If there’s one thing I know about Quinn, it’s that she has no couth when it comes to getting what she wants. She’ll trample over anyone in any way. I’m surprised she hasn’t used you yet.”
She paused. Looked up at me, words lingering on the edge of her lips. Emotion practically pouring from the rims of her irises. But then she blinked and shoved her phone back into the pocket of her pants. “She doesn’t own me. I just have to go along with it until I can secure my position, and then I’ll set things right. I’ll show her I can do the job without sacrificing my dignity. You’ll see. Everything is going to work out for us. I promise you, Grayson.” She leaned on her tiptoes, planted a kiss to my lips, and then whispered, “See you at eight,” before disappearing out the door.
There was something in her words, in her tone, that reverberated around my brain like a warning flare.
“… go along with it …”
With what? The role of the overworked assistant? The undermined talent?
Why was Harry’s voice drifting in and out? His warning twisting around Prim’s words, forming this sort of painting I’d yet to understand.
My head shook. I turned and stared out the window to the street below, trying to imagine Prim among the splattering of bodies.
Trying to ignore the swell of worry building in the pit of my stomach.
Only Then
Prim
“PRIM, THIS IS SOME REALLY good stuff,” Poppy said as I stood in front of the mirror.
She paced behind me, reading the printout of the notes I’d written to appease Quinn. It was a lot of filler. Generic rules I’d realized during my time with Grayson. Most of the stuff I knew Quinn really wanted—the personal stuff he’d shared with me—I couldn’t bring myself to write, so I kept them with my audio notes.
“I mean, shit. There won’t be a player left in the city.” She thumbed through the pages. “This last rule about being honest and open to gain trust … I mean, it’s common sense, but being honest is sometimes scary. There’s the whole rejection factor. The what if they don’t like your truth thing to stress over. But this reads … easy.”
“The rules are total BS, Poppy. I can’t … I can’t write this piece, knowing it’s a scam. That’s not journalism. That’s emotional cannibalism. Feeding off pain. Devouring another’s truth.”
She caught my gaze in the mirror. “You’re wrong. It’s like you’re a guy whisperer or something. The tips you’ve listed … it’s like you can see into their soul. No wonder he asked you to be his girlfriend.”
I swallowed. Found it harder and harder to look at myself in the mirror. The dark circles. The permanent frown. I was barely even able to enjoy the shiny new label of girlfriend. I went to his office that afternoon with every intention of confessing the whole truth under Hazel’s advisory, but somehow it all went wrong. And when he’d told me he trusted me and then said we wouldn’t be a thing if Quinn really had put me up to something … I’d panicked. Clammed up.
And now … now, my hole had been dug even wider.
“Quinn’s going to flip when she reads this.” Poppy plopped on to my bed, hands in the air. “Gah. I’m so jealous of how you write. You know … you’re going to be big.”
“You write beautifully as well. Don’t discredit yourself.” I paused and looked back at her. “And I told you … there’s no way I’m going to let it be published. I just … I have to find a solution. One where I can keep my job and Grayson.”
She jolted upright. “Well, you better find one soon. The clock’s ticking. And who said I was discrediting myself?”
My eyes flicked to the ceiling, though I was smiling.
“So …” She rolled to her stomach and propped up on her elbows. “Where’s he taking you?”
“Momofuku.” Reaching for a pair of amethyst earrings, I caught the tail end of her sticking her tongue out. “What? You don’t like ramen?”
“Despise the stuff.”
“How did you survive college?”
A slow smile built on her face. “You’d be surprised what a little flirting with the janitor can get you.”
This time, I was the one screwing up my face.
“Don’t be gross.” She lodged a pillow at me. “Keys to the cafeteria after hours.”
Sighing at her absurdness, I picked up the pillow and tossed it onto the bed.
When my phone buzzed, she grabbed it before I could. “Lover Boy?” She laughed. “You have him stored as Lover Boy?” She examined the message with a concentrated look. “Ooh. He wants to make it Facebook official. Just promise me I’ll be the maid of—”
“Give me that.”
I tried to take it from her, but
her crazy kicked in. She leaped off the bed and ran toward the living room, a fit of giggles trailing behind her.
“Poppy,” I called, feeling like I was dealing with my little sisters.
“He says, and I quote …” She cleared her throat, deepening her tone as she stood on the couch. “Hey, babe. Looking forward to tonight. Can’t wait to taste you again.” Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening and filling with humor. “Taste? Raunchy. You’re holding out.”
I snatched the phone from her and then held it against my chest. “We made out.”
“And?”
“And …” A scorching blush rose up my neck. “And maybe a little more.”
“More … like how?”
I shrugged as a blush tore across my cheeks.
“Bases?”
“Second.”
She snorted. “So, you played with his bat then? How about your base?”
I couldn’t hide the smile roping across my lips.
I swore her jaw was going to disconnect from her head if she kept dropping it open like that. “Primrose Amberly. I’m offended.” She sat on her knees on the couch, a pout forming on her lips. “And here I thought, we were best friends.”
“We are.” I sat across from her. Tucked my legs under myself. “It happened last night. Between the guilt of telling him where I worked, finding out Harrison had been looking into me, and being asked to be his girlfriend, I guess it got lost in the mix. I’ve barely had time to sort it all out, let alone tell you.”
“Was his dick …” She held her hands out, widening the length.
“Poppy!” I smacked her hands down.
“What? You can’t touch a dick and then be scared to talk about the dick. Come on. Say it with me … dick,” she said, dragging out the last word to my horror.
“Because I know you and I know you won’t quit until you get what you want … then fine. I’ll say it. Dick.”
“Ha!” she said, hands clapping together. “So?” Her hands widened again, returning to the topic I’d hoped she’d forgotten about. “Come on. Tell me.” She snuggled closer. “Okay, look. I’ll give you info if you promise to give me some. Fin was …” Her hands widened, widened, and then widened some more, enough to make my eyes bulge.
Love in the Headlines: A Star-Crossed Friends-To-Lovers Romance (Love in the Headlines Series Book 1) Page 19