It was after three when Gray pulled his truck into an empty spot just down the street from my house.
“I had a really good time. Thank you,” I said.
He turned off the engine. “You’re welcome. I did, too.” He shifted his shoulders to face me. “Do you work this week?”
I nodded. “I work a consistent schedule. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, seven to seven. Days.”
“Those are long shifts.”
“They are, but I only work three days a week, which is nice.”
All of a sudden, I started to feel nervous again, the panic and confusion on first-date etiquette clogged my brain. Was I supposed to kiss him as a thank you? I wanted to, boy did I, but I didn’t know how to initiate. It was going to be an awkward kiss because I felt awkward. Did I lean in first? Close my eyes? Did I—
“Would it be all right if I called you?” he asked, breaking into my ridiculous train of thought.
“Oh.” That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. Once again. I figured he’d ask if he could come inside. Every single time I thought one thing, he did the unexpected. “I… I’d like that.”
I licked my lips again, and I couldn’t help but fiddle with the seat belt. I wanted to look anywhere but at him. It would be rude to bolt from the truck, so was I supposed to open my own door? He’d done it for me all the other times today. “Gray—”
“Breathe, Emory.”
This had my gaze whipping up to his.
“What?” I asked, my voice a little high pitched, and I blushed.
“You seem… nervous again.” His dark eyes met mine then drifted to my mouth.
“I am,” I admitted. I gave him a thin smile. “I know your neat-freak secret, so I’ll tell you one of mine.”
He cocked his head to the side slightly. I recognized this as something he did when curious. “Okay. But it’s got to be a good secret. I mean, being a neat freak is pretty hard to top.”
I rolled my eyes, instantly relaxed. “I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen now. I’ve… I’ve never really been on a date before. I know, this was just a coincidence, but still.” I glanced down at my lap then back at him. “I met my ex in college, and we didn’t really date. We skipped a whole bunch of steps for us to get to the one where I got pregnant by mistake. Then married. Then fourteen years later, divorced. Those two awful blind dates I mentioned don't count, so I think this is actually my first real date.”
He looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled. “I really like that I’m your first.”
I looked at him sideways. “It… doesn’t bother you? I mean, I’m pretty much guy inept.”
He reached across the center console and brushed a lock of hair that had escaped my ponytail back from my face, tucked it behind my ear. It seemed to be something he really liked to do, and I didn't mind. At all. I lifted my eyes to meet his as he ran his finger down my cheek. The feeling was exhilarating, the skin he touched tingling in his wake. I really wasn’t breathing now.
“That you’re not a player?” His voice was almost a whisper. “That you’re smart and honest and open and starting your life all over again?”
“Well, yeah.” I sighed because he understood.
Instead of answering my question, he asked, “Do you know what happens now?” He dropped his hand. “At the end of a date?”
“I thought this wasn’t a date.”
“Right, a coincidence,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up. “Let’s pretend it was a date then. Do you know what happens?”
The truck seemed very small all of a sudden. “Well, I have some ideas.” I lowered my eyes to his mouth.
“Such as…” His dark voice trailed off.
“My single friends always talk about kissing or asking a guy inside, or they talk about their one-night stands and even their walks of shame.”
“I never want you to do a walk of shame, Emory.” He sounded a little mad mentioning that.
He took my hand, held it beside the gear shift. His fingers were warm, his touch gentle as his thumb rubbed over my palm in slow circles. I felt the zing behind this simple gesture all the way to my toes. I darted a look up at his eyes and saw the same reaction I felt, the same flare of heat at the simple touch.
“I don’t want a one-night stand with you. You’re not going to ask me inside either. I’m the one that’s going to seduce you, Emory, which means you’ll be in my bed. Soon.” His eyes dropped to my lips. “I want to kiss you. Jesus, I want to taste you, but I want you to be ready first.”
I frowned, surprisingly turned on by his words. He was rejecting me? Wait, he said he was going to seduce me. That I was going to be in his bed.
“Gray, I don’t under—”
He gave my hand a little squeeze to silence me. “When you’re ready, you won’t be nervous or unsure, like you are right now. You’ll know. You’ll want it just as much as I do. I’ll be waiting.”
Holy shit.
Chapter 9
GRAY
“No, do it again. You need to get the bend of your elbow beneath their chin in order to get the choke.” I yelled at the guy I’d been training all afternoon, running my hand over my neck in frustration. He wasn’t getting it. We were on the mat, and he was practicing his Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. He wanted to break into the MMA pro circuit, but as a stand-up fighter, his groundwork needed serious help, and he wasn’t picking it up fast enough for his first fight. But that was why he'd hired me, to literally beat him into shape. We’d been at it two hours now and everyone needed a break.
He tried it two more times, sitting behind his partner, wrapping his arm around his neck the right way for the choke. With the slight change in position, his partner tapped out, which meant he would have passed out if he hadn't used his hand to tell the guy to release. Besides knocking someone out cold, a tap out was the only other way to win a competition that didn't involve a judge's call. No fighter wanted to go all the rounds and let the judges decide. We wanted our opponent to submit. “Good. Now do it ten more times each, then get some water.”
The Muay Thai class was just finishing in one of the classrooms as Thor came over, rubbing his face with a gym towel draped around his neck. He had tape over his knuckles and hands from hitting the heavy bag and was working his way through his water bottle.
It was six, and the gym was hopping, the after-work crowd getting in their workouts. Classes ran back to back for three hours. Next up, beginner Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. The instructor was on the mat in his formal white gi, showing a new student how to tie his belt. I wore a T-shirt with the gym logo, Muay Thai shorts, and my feet were bare. No shoes were allowed on the mats, and I’d had to get in the ring and work hand to hand for a while.
“How did your free afternoon with Laura go?” I asked, grabbing my cell from behind the front desk. I’d sent Emory a text earlier instead of calling, knowing she worked all day, and I didn’t want to interrupt her.
Taking out my aggressions in the ring instead of deep breathing in the yoga class.
It wasn’t anything interesting, but I wanted to send her something. I wanted to have her smile, even if I couldn’t see it. Yeah, I might have acted like a thirteen-year-old girl with a first crush, but I wanted her to know I was thinking about her. I couldn't stop remembering the way she blushed, the scent of her, the sight of her muscles, all lean and strong from yoga. And having her underneath me on the mat, hell, the feel of her lush body was imprinted on my brain. I couldn't forget if I tried.