by S. E. Rose
“You must be Emma,” she says in a raspy voice.
I nod.
“Ms. Daniels has cocktails waiting for you on the deck. Make yourself at home. Dinner will be served shortly. I’m Vera, don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.” She holds out her arm, ushering me into the house.
I follow the hallway to the deck and see the side table which holds a pitcher of sangria and a bunch of very cool glasses. I pick one up, studying it. It’s clear in some parts but has wavey blue and green sections. I pour myself a glass and plop down on one of the lounge chairs. I check my phone.
Blythe: Something has come up. I’m so sorry, dear. Vera is warming up the ravioli. Please help yourself and enjoy the evening. I’ll set up a rain check meal soon.
I sigh and contemplate leaving, but the smell of dinner wafts out of the screen door.
“Fuck it,” I say to myself.
“I’m sorry, what?”
My face drains of color at the sound of his voice. I turn slowly and my gaze meets Grady’s. And then it hits me, she fucking set us up. When she asked about Grady the other day, I already knew Grady had told her he ended things by the way she questioned me. She assured me that whether I dated her son or not, she would still be my advisor and she’d still think I was wonderful. That made me smile a little.
I stand to leave, not wanting to be a part of this setup.
“Let me guess. My mother offered to serve you her world-famous ravioli. And just now, she conveniently canceled,” he says, his face deadpan.
I nod, realization taking over as I look at him. I try to stop the laugh that bubbles up, but I can’t help it. “She set us up, didn’t she?”
He nods, looking around. Eyeing the sangria, he pours himself a glass and walks over to me. “Don’t go.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
He sighs and runs his hand through his hair and my body trembles with the memory of how that hair felt in between my fingers.
“I deserve that,” he states, grimacing.
“Yeah, you do.”
“Dinner’s ready,” Vera calls out from the kitchen.
I groan because now I’ll look like a bitch if I leave. Glaring at Grady, I brush past him, determined to eat my damn meal, and then get the hell out of this house. I dread having a future conversation with Blythe about her staying out of my love life.
I sit down at the kitchen bar top that has been set as Vera places in front of me a plate of the most-delicious-smelling food ever.
I take a small bite and moan. “That is amazing.”
I glance up and meet Grady’s hooded gaze. It’s like he’s fucking me with his eyes. I blush and look away.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says as he takes the seat next to me. Vera sets out his plate.
“There’s more in that dish over there. I have to be going. If you all wouldn’t mind putting your dishes in the sink, I’ll clean them up in the morning. Have a wonderful evening,” she says and slinks away before either of us can manage any more than an “OK.”
“I’ll give it to your mother, she definitely is crafty with her covert setup operation,” I say as I continue eating.
He shakes his head. “Sorry about that. She means well.”
I sigh. “I’m sure she does.”
We finish eating in silence, the sun slowly setting as we do. From our seats, we can see out past the deck and patio to the ocean. I notice that Vera has left the gas fire pit on along with the twinkle lights. Blythe really worked hard on this subterfuge.
I stand and start to grab my plate, but Grady swoops in and takes it, placing them both in the sink before rolling up his sleeves and handwashing them. It’s then that I hear the extremely faint sound of the dishwasher. I stand, leaning on the bar, and watch him. It’s unfair how hot he looks, his muscles rippling as he washes.
“I’m going to enjoy the fire pit,” I announce, grabbing my glass and heading outside. I refill it and meander over to the oversized outdoor chairs in front of the fire. I sit down, pulling a blanket over me.
Grady comes out to join me a moment later.
“I never get tired of this view,” he confesses.
“I can see why. It’s lovely here.”
“It is.”
I lean back in the chair. As pissed off as I am, there’s also something comforting about Grady. Being with him seems so, natural. Like sitting with someone I’ve known my whole life.
I curse myself for even thinking this. He was a complete and total asshole to me this week. I’m so over guys being assholes. Yet, as I’m thinking this, his knee brushes against my thigh and all my nerve endings light up like a Christmas tree. Curse you, body, and your responses to hot men.
Grady
I don’t know whether to yell at my mother or hug her. I don’t know if it’s her, or Max’s pep talk, or my own second-guessing, but suddenly, I want to fix things. I want to tell Emma everything I said a few days ago was a horrible mistake.
I turn to her.
“I’m sorry. I…God, I was an idiot. I…shouldn’t have said what I said. I was trying to protect you, but instead, I just ended up hurting you, and for that, I won’t ever forgive myself.”
She turns toward me, her eyes widening with each word I’ve said. “But why?”
I take a deep breath and tell her everything. I tell her about the note. I tell her about my past stalker. I tell her about the photo of us. I lay it all out. She’s silent as I speak, and when I finish, she doesn’t say a word.
I don’t even realize that I’m holding my breath until her lips part.
“Why, for the love of God, did you not just tell me all that? Why the whole, 'I can’t do this' theatrics?”
I lean forward. “I don’t know. I…I just wanted to protect you and I didn’t know how to do that without letting you go.” She gives me a pointed look. “I know. Now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds completely insane and stupid.”
And for the first time tonight, she grins. “Yes, it does.” She smirks.
“So…am I forgiven for being a giant asshat?” I ask, my voice filled with hope that I didn’t even know I was feeling until this very second.
She leans back and crosses her arms. I feel like she’s a judge and I’m waiting for a verdict. Cocking her head to one side, she observes me with those amazing, beautiful eyes.
“I’m willing to give this…thing…one more shot, but”—she emphasizes the word “but”—“no more keeping secrets. No more acting like an asshat. And no more trying to protect me from hypothetical situations.” She raises an eyebrow and waits for me to respond.
“I can live with that,” I reply.
Before I can say anything else, she crawls over her chair and sits on my lap. My hands grip her thighs as our gazes lock.
“No more bullshit,” she says in a voice laced with desire. Her gaze drifts to my lips and I feel my cock start to spring to life.
“No more bullshit,” I agree.
“Good, because I’ve been wanting to do this all evening, and I’m tired of fighting myself over it,” she says as she leans in and presses her lips to mine.
And that’s all it takes. Our hands begin to roam over one another’s bodies, our tongues tangle and war with each other as we taste and lick and suck. Our pelvises mindlessly grind into the other’s as our bodies entwine.
It’s frantic and perfect. I was an idiot. That’s all I can think as I lose myself in this beautiful woman. It’s never been like this. My body is on fire but so is my soul. I need more. I need her. But somewhere in the midst of this make-out session, I gain my composure, my sanity.
I pull back. We both stare at each other, panting.
“We should stop,” I say.
“No,” she disagrees, shaking her head.
I smirk. “Yes.”
She leans into me until our noses are but a hair apart. “No.”
“Are you always this motherfucking stubborn?” I growl.
&nbs
p; “No,” she says again, and I can feel the wicked smile on her lips because they are now pressed against mine.
I physically pull back, fighting every urge in my body. “Not like this. I want you in my own bed, where we can take our time without interruption,” I explain as I take a lock of her hair between my fingers and give it a slight tug.
She sits up straighter. It’s like she’s suddenly aware that we are outside in view of prying eyes.
“Hey,” I whisper, touching her cheek. “It’s OK. No one can see us here. There’s a privacy wall.” I motion to the wall that surrounds the patio.”
I can feel her relax.
“We could go to my place?” she suggests. And I know she’s implying that the stalker doesn’t know where she lives.
“We could, but I’ll feel better once I meet with our new security team. I want to hear their suggestions for keeping us safe.”
She groans. “You’re going to give me lady blue balls, aren’t you?”
I smirk. “Lady blue balls?”
She nods.
“Well, that wouldn’t be very kind of me, now would it?” I say as I reach down between us. She has on a flowing skirt and I push it up her silky thighs. She shivers from my touch. I push one finger under her panties and find her hot, wet channel. She trembles as I push inside. She leans back down and kisses me as I fuck her with my finger. I lean back as I feel her begin to come, watch her as she moans my name and throws back her head. She’s the fucking sexiest thing I have ever seen, and I want so much more. I want all of her.
Once she regains her composure, I slide my finger out and place it in my mouth, sucking her juices from it.
“You taste sweet. I can’t wait to have more,” I say in a low gravelly voice as I help her adjust her skirt.
“Fuck,” she whispers as she watches me, her eyes still hooded with desire.
“That’s my line, smarty-pants.”
She grins. “I should get home, then. I want to work on my project some more tonight.”
I help her to stand and we head to our respective cars, but not before I press her against the side of hers and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her once again. I can’t get enough of her. I curse myself for even thinking, let alone actually calling things off with her. I was a crazy person to think I could stay away from her.
“Text me when you get home,” I command.
“I will.” I shut her car door as she starts her car. I press the button for the gate to open and she slowly pulls out and heads back to her place.
Chapter Twenty
I pull up to my house. The fact that my porch light is off is the first indicator that something isn’t right. I pull up my video doorbell app and check it. It went off about thirty minutes ago, but I can’t see anything unusual.
I call Rhett as I exit the car and walk toward my front door.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Just keeping you on the phone because I have a feeling that something isn’t right.”
“Should I call the cops? Where are you?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.
“Home. I just got back from my mom’s house. She fucking set me up with Emma.”
Rhett laughs. “Did it work?”
“Yes, asswipe, it worked.”
“I fucking love your mom. So, what’s going on?”
“Porch light was out, and something triggered the video doorbell about thirty minutes ago, but I don’t see anything so far.”
As I say the words, I tap the app on my phone that turns on my indoor house lights and that’s when I see it. The front living room window has been smashed and so has the porch light.
“Fuck,” I grumble.
“What?”
“I have to call the cops. Someone broke my window.”
“Shit. Do you think they are inside?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Go wait in your car and call them,” he says. “And then call me back.”
“K.” I hang up with Rhett and call the detective from the other night.
“Benson,” he answers.
“Hey, this is Grady Daniels.”
“Oh, hey. You remember anything else from the other night?”
“Uh, no, but I just got home, and my front porch light and window are smashed.”
“Shit. OK. I’m calling it in now. They’ll send a patrol car over. I’ll be there shortly. Don’t go inside and don’t touch anything.”
“I won’t.” I hang up and call Rhett back.
“This sucks!” I huff.
“I know, it really does. But at least you’re safe.”
“Whatever. I just don’t get it.”
“Dude, it’s some psycho. There’s nothing to get.”
“No, I mean, why all the craziness out of nowhere?”
“I don’t know. I’m texting Calvin right now. I haven’t heard when our meeting is with the security firm,” Rhett says.
“Not fucking soon enough,” I grumble as I see a police car pull up along the curb. “Police are here. I’ll talk to you later.”
“OK. If you want to come stay here tonight, you have a key,” Rhett adds.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
I get out of my car where I’ve been sitting as the officers exit theirs. One looks to be about ten years older than me and one looks close to my age.
“Grady Daniels?” the older one says.
“Yes, sir.”
“Detective Benson will be here shortly. He wanted us to secure the crime scene.”
I motion to my front porch.
“Officer Davis will take your statement while I check the house out. Have you been inside yet?”
I shake my head and hand him my house key. He nods and walks up to the front steps.
The younger officer pulls out a notepad and looks me over. “Tell me what happened tonight.”
I begin the short explanation of my evening after arriving home from my mom’s house. But as I finish the story, the other officer walks out of my door holding a brick. His gloved hand covers it, but as he steps closer, I can see a sticky note, a yellow one. I shudder because I know it’s going to have a Shakespearean quote written on it.
“He that dies pays all debts,” he mutters a little confused. He glances up at me as though I will have all the answers.
“It’s a line from The Tempest,” a voice says from behind me. I turn, my gaze meeting that of Detective Benson.
“You find anything else?” he asks.
The officer shakes his head.
“Go write it up as vandalism, so Mr. Daniels can file a claim with his insurance company.”
The officer nods, grumbling something under his breath as he walks back to the car. “Bag that for evidence,” he says to the officer who just finished taking my statement. The officer goes to get the brick and note, and the detective turns to me.
“Still no idea who would do this?”
I glare at him. “If I had an idea, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Just checking. Pop stars have been known to do some crazy shit for attention.”
“I’m not a pop star, so I guess that solves that issue.”
We stare each other down for a moment until we are interrupted by another voice.
My manager.
“Hey, is everything OK? Rhett texted me and I was nearby,” Calvin says.
I roll my eyes. “Just a brick through my window,” I reply, my voice laced with sarcasm.
“Shit. Glad I have a call into the security firm.”
“You’re hiring security?” Detective Benson asks.
“Detective Benson, our band manager, Calvin Kratz.”
Calvin nods to the detective. “So, any leads yet? The record label is starting to get concerned. They are a hundred percent behind us hiring a full-time security agency in addition to the security they already have for you.”
I groan. “Starting?”
Calvin gives me a sharp look that says, be nice, and don’t bite the han
d that feeds you. I have been unhappy with the record label as of late and Calvin knows this, but he also doesn’t want us rocking the boat in the middle of our contract. We have the option to leave them after our next album. Let’s just say, I’m counting the days.
“We don’t,” Detective Benson answers Calvin.
The next thirty minutes are comprised of Benson asking me more questions. Calvin acting all defensive. And the two officers filling out an insane amount of paperwork, which probably means they hate me now.
By the time everything is done, I’m exhausted and all I want to do is crawl into my own bed. I head to my garage and find some old pieces of wood that were left there from some projects. I take my hammer and cover the broken window up the best I can. I replace the bulb in the patio light, which thankfully still works.
I crawl into my bed, hoping tomorrow will be better. Although not everything was bad about this day, just its ending.
Emma
The sun streaming through my window wakes me. I smile as I remember last night. How can everything be so different in just one day?
I throw the covers off of me and head to the kitchen to make coffee. As the coffee brews, I flip through my messages.
Kate: How was dinner?
I decide to let her know that Grady and I are back on.
Me: Grady and I sort of got set up by Blythe last night.
Kate: Seriously?
Me: Yep.
Kate: Is that good or bad?
Me: Good, very good.
Kate: Yay! I want to hear all about it! Call me later.
Me: Sounds good.
I pour cream into my coffee mug and read my next text message.
Unknown Caller: Light and lust are deadly enemies.
What in the actual fuck? My mind briefly goes to the note I found in the hall the other day. Is someone in the apartment complex trying to befriend me with weird Shakespeare quotes?
I delete the message.
Grady: Call me when you wake up.
I smile and press call. I’d texted him when I got home, and he’d written back “goodnight.” I had hoped to hear more from him last night, but I had passed out soon after getting home and finishing an assignment. He must have sent this message a few hours after I went to bed.