Sex was sex, and that was it. There was no cuddling after, no sleeping over. That’s why I never had a woman to my apartment. No strings. Another reason taking Emory there yesterday had been a big deal. But when I'd come out of the shower and she was there, pretty as a picture waiting for me, it felt right. It felt… more.
“That’s what I want from her.” I ran a hand over my head, my short hairs rasping against my palm. The front desk attendant waved to get my attention, held the phone up in the air and pointed at it. I stood, looked down at my friend. “Which means I’m fucked.”
I went into my office that had a wall of glass facing out onto the mats and dropped into my desk chair to take the call. I hadn’t even gotten a taste of Emory, and I knew whatever could be between us was doomed. I shouldn’t have texted her, kept things going, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to let her go.
“Green,” I barked.
“Hello, Sonny.”
That voice. That nickname. Not Grayson or Gray. Sonny. Fuck. My hand gripped the phone so hard, it probably cracked the plastic. A call from dear old dad only meant one thing. I was still totally fucked.
“Heard you got a girlfriend.”
Chapter 10
EMORY
I nudged the car door shut with my hip as I lugged two grocery bags and my purse from my parking spot, which, fortunately, I found on my block. It was all very tight parallel parking. It was almost eight, and the night was still hot. All I could think about was a shower, a simple dinner then a book. It had been a long day in the ER, punctuated by a stabbing, a family in a car accident and a guy with one too many personalities. I had two more days to go this week, so when the ambulance went by with the siren blaring, I was glad it was someone else’s turn to patch them up.
When I could see my house, the little boy from the other day and an older man were sitting on my steps. He appeared to be in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, a full beard, wearing jeans and a Harley T-shirt. His outfit screamed biker, but I didn’t see one at the curb. In the heat, he somehow looked cool while I felt rumpled and wilted in my scrubs. My hair was long down my back in a sloppy tail, I had no makeup, and I was sweating. The scent of strong antibacterial soap clung to me. Not the best way to greet guests.
When they saw me approach, they stood. “Take one of the bags from the lady, Jackson,” the man directed.
“Hi, Miss Emory!” Jackson trilled, grabbing a cloth grocery bag from me with his little hands, wriggling it up and onto his shoulder, so it didn’t drag on the ground. In shorts and another T-shirt, this one white, I could see only one Band-Aid on his knee and none on his elbow. We walked side by side up to the steps.
“This is my grandfather,” he said with a wave of his hand as way of introduction.
The man offered an easy smile. “Please, let me take your other bag. You must’ve had a long day and don’t need to carry such heavy stuff.” His voice was deep and raspy, but his words thoughtful.
I let the man take it from me as he was so intent. He didn’t seem like one to argue with.
“Thank you. Just set them on the steps.” They complied and turned back to me.
“We came by earlier, and your neighbor—” he pointed to Simon’s front door, “—said what time you would return, so we waited.”
Since Simon shared my schedule with this man, they must have talked enough for him to feel comfortable. He wouldn’t have told just anybody my routine. Although, I was pretty predictable.
“I am Quake Baker, Jackson’s grandfather. I wanted to thank you for helping him the other day.”
Quake was quite the name, and I had to assume it was a nickname. A biker name?
The boy stared up at me as if I walked on water, and I smiled. “It was no trouble at all. You’re not having fun unless you’ve got a few scrapes.”
“The helmet was smart and generous,” he added. “Heard it was your son’s when he was small.”
I looked from boy to grandfather. Mr. Baker was close to six feet, his posture straight. He seemed very polite with me, yet looking in his dark gaze, I saw shrewdness, as if while we were talking, he was assessing me. I didn’t think he was this thoughtful with everyone.
“Yes. My son, Chris, is away at college and is much too big to wear it anymore. I thought Jackson might get enjoyment out of it.”
“He left his at home and did some extra chores as punishment. Motorcycle, bicycle, a brain bucket’s a must. You’re a smart lady.”
I sighed. “Smart? I’m not sure about that, but I’ve raised a boy, so I know what can happen. We’ve gone through our fair share of bumps and scrapes.”
“No doubt at your work as well,” Mr. Baker added, looking down at the light blue scrubs I wore.
“Yes, that’s true.” I wondered how much about me Simon had shared and how much he’d dug up on his own.
“Won’t keep you as you must be beat, but I’d like to buy you a meal from our restaurant as a thank you.”
“Restaurant?”
“The Double-B Diner.”
I quickly made the connection. The place had been around for as long as I could remember. Since it was on the other side of town, I’d never eaten there.
“Have a meal, coffee, on the house.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Baker, but I can’t go like this, and I’d need to clean up and—”
He held up his hand to stop me. “Call me Quake. Not tonight then, I understand. Tomorrow?”
He was certainly insistent.
“I work again tomorrow and Wednesday.”
Jackson remained quiet as we spoke, watching us both earnestly.
“Then I’ll get the food to you,” Mr. Baker… Quake, said with a nod. “I’ll have dinner packaged and brought here tomorrow night. Then no cooking after another long day. Don’t even have to go out when all you want to do is put your feet up.” He picked up one of the bags of groceries and started up the steps. “Jackson.” He pointed to the other bag, and the child grabbed it and followed. I had no choice but to follow as well.
I doubted he would take no for an answer, so I agreed to his offer with a thank you.
The crunching of glass had Quake stopping, lifting his foot. “What’s this?”
Looking up at the front of my house, I saw that my outdoor lights were broken, and the glass scattered on the steps and concrete. I had a small light by the door that was connected to a timer, turning on and off with dusk and dawn, but I also had a motion sensor light off to one side. Simon had installed it after he moved in, so it lit up the space between both of our houses.
“What on earth?” I said to no one in particular. Shit, what a mess! I wanted to swear out loud, but I was used to tempering those words around kids. “The lights are all broken.”
Quake frowned, and Jackson watched both of us, unsure.
I sighed, then remembered myself. “Here, sorry.”
I unlocked the front door, taking the grocery bags from both of them, sticking them inside.
“This happened before?” Quake asked, glancing down the street one way then the other, his look shrewd. While a car drove by, nothing seemed unusual. I didn't see any glass on Simon's stoop nor the house on the other side.