“No,” I grumbled, tossing up my hands. “Just leave it. I’ll sweep it up, so no one gets cut. I’ll get new bulbs after work tomorrow.”
Quake shook his head. “Nah. I’ll have this taken care of.” When I was about to object, he cut me off by holding up his hand. “My son, Frank, will deal with it while you’re working. He’ll be here at seven thirty tomorrow night for you to test the lights, and he’ll bring your meal. All right?”
Tilting my head, I eyed the man, trying to read him, which seemed impossible. I didn’t want to play poker with him, and I doubted many said no to him. “I have a feeling you’re going to get your way, aren’t you?”
I glanced down at Jackson for confirmation, and he just grinned, a dimple creasing his cheek. “He always gets his way,” he whispered, but Quake heard and chuckled.
“Yeah, make it easy on yourself and say yes. You took care of Jackson, so now we take care of you.”
I wasn’t sure who the we was, but I was too tired to argue.
Chapter 11
EMORY
By the time I’d showered, eaten and swept up the glass, it was nine. Throwing on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top in deference to the heat, I finally had time to check my phone. I stood at my kitchen counter and saw that I had another text from Gray. My heart rate sped up, and I felt giddy at the sight of his name. I was smiling in my quiet kitchen. It was a new feeling for me, this excitement about a guy, and I liked it. It was thrilling and definitely flattering. Gray was hot, a different league entirely than any other man I’d met, and he was interested in me. Me!
Why, I had no idea, but I was going to see what happened, even though that concept was completely unfamiliar to me. I didn’t just see what happened about anything. I was a mother and a planner and… no. No! that was the old Emory. The normal Emory. Now, I just went with it. With fumbling fingers, I eagerly pulled the message up.
Gray: Thor found hot sauce on my chin this morning. Why didn’t you tell me?
Eyes widening at his words, I covered my smile with my fingers. The idea of Gray walking around with a dab of wing sauce on his chin was ridiculous… and only wanted to make me think about licking it off. God, why did he always have to say just the right thing? I’d been unsure of what the next steps were with him, but he’d made it easy for me to respond. He wasn’t playing games, he was just going with it, too. I typed quickly, my thumbs flying over the screen, biting my lip as I went.
Me: How was Thor's date with his wife?
He responded within seconds.
Gray: You were right. Let's just say Thor's a happy man today.
I couldn't help but grin as I thought of the big guy trying to navigate the insanity of early childhood.
Gray: What's your stand on toilet brushes?
I froze, staring at his text. Toilet brushes?
Me: Is this code for something?
Gray: Relationships.
What? I leaned my hip against the counter.
Me: Not sure if I'm a good person to ask. I went on one not-date, and the guy couldn’t even use a napkin right.
Gray: I guess I have to clean up my act for you to kiss me.
My lips turned up, and I pressed the phone to my chest, took a deep breath. My thumbs raced over the screen.
Me: You mean the kiss I’ve been thinking about all day?
God, that was bold. It was so not normal. My finger hovered over the Send button only briefly before I scrunched my eyes shut and pressed down. There. I did it. I paced over to the cupboard and got down a glass, filled it with ice and water from the fridge dispenser. God, I wasn’t even thirsty! I paced back across the room and nibbled on my thumbnail, staring at my phone. I hadn’t lied to Gray. I had been thinking about kissing him through my entire shift. He’d said I’d be in his bed soon, and the images that conjured had my nipples tightening, and I felt my whole body flush at the idea. I ached between my legs in a way my vibrator was not going to soothe.
It was a miracle my job was busy and distracting enough to keep my thoughts off of getting in my car, driving over to his gym and jumping his incredible body. It probably wouldn’t look good for him to have a woman in scrubs come in and tackle him to the ground.
Although, in his job, being tackled to the ground was all in a day’s work. I’d done a search for him online, and so much information had come up. His fights, every detail of his career, some bad stories with his father. Old photos, everything. It was obvious why he was wary of people knowing about him and their motives at meeting him. The media spun the information in ways to sell, including the supposed baby with the film star, but I knew the real Gray, at least a little bit, to be able to separate fact from fiction.
Men sought his autograph and both sexes stood in photos with him. A picture with the champ. Women practically tossed themselves at him, scantily clad and eager to be seen and perhaps win the affections of the Grayson Green. The Outlaw. I’d laughed at that title because it didn’t suit the real him at all. A stab of jealousy had made me bitter toward the busty women in the pictures, but nowhere in his online profile did it mention girlfriends, past or present. These women, who tried to climb his body like a monkey only had his attention long enough for a photo. He wasn’t looking at them the way he focused his dark eyes on me. He didn’t even really see them. Just smiled for the camera, and after the brief amount of time I’d known him, I could tell the smile wasn’t even genuine.
He was good at what he did. Exceptional, actually. He was one of the best in the industry, if not ever, based on the articles.
My mind shifted to how good he was at tackling. I so needed to be tackled like he'd done with me in the gym but, perhaps, in a bed instead. At the least in a less public setting. I’d been in a sex drought for years and hadn’t cared all too much. I’d had my vibrator to keep me company and been reasonably satisfied. I barely remembered when sex had been decent with Jack. Last night, I’d tossed and turned, wondering what Gray’s lips felt like, whether he’d be gentle or demanding, if he’d press me up against the wall while he was kissing me and—
My cell rang, and I jumped a foot. Gray.
“You want to kiss me?” he asked, his voice a deep grumble. I practically melted into a pool of goo at the sound, and I loved the fact that he hadn’t even said hello.
“Um, crap.” I shut my eyes, took a quick breath and said the truth. “Yes.”
The line was quiet for a minute, but I could hear music in the background. Based on the crazy beat, I had to assume he was in the gym. Or out at a dance club, but I couldn’t picture that with him. “Shit, Emory. That one word is the hottest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
I crinkled my brow. “Really? All I said was yes.”
“It means that we’re more than just people who coincidentally meet in a park.”
“You make it sound like we’re practically lovers.” I walked over to my junk drawer, pulled it open and started weeding out expired coupons, wedging my cell between my ear and my shoulder.
“I know.”
I dropped the phone into the pile of junk. In my haste to grab it, I bumped my hip on the drawer and shut it, phone inside. “Shit!” With fumbling fingers, I yanked it back open and pulled out the phone. “Gray? Sorry, I dropped the phone.”