by S. R. Grey
“What were you doing that made you miss my best play of the game?”
Her cheeks go from pink to bright red. She’s not only exceptionally pretty, she’s adorable.
“I, um, uh,” she stammers. “I was just kind of daydreaming. That’s all.”
This is too good to let go.
Arching a brow, I ask, “Care to share?”
Her big green eyes widen, and she shakes her head adamantly. “No!”
“Hmm, it must’ve been some daydream.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” she murmurs.
I let it drop, but I make a vow to myself that I’ll get it out of her one of these days. For now, though, I just want to keep getting to know her.
There was a lot of info in the packets Jock gave to us, but it’s an impersonal way to learn about someone. I’d rather hear Eden’s answers to my questions, so I can watch her expressions as she talks about her life.
But what does it matter if this is all ending eventually? a little voice inside my head asks.
I silence it right away.
I just want to know, okay?
Our pizzas arrive—yeah, I’m so hungry that I ordered a whole pie just for myself—and we dig in.
Well, I dig in. Eden is more of a dainty eater. She even cuts her pizza with a fork and a knife.
That makes me laugh out loud.
Chuckling, I pick up one of the New York-style slices and curl it longways. “This is the proper way to eat pizza, Eden,” I tell her. “Like this, see?”
“Oh, Mr. Pizza Etiquette Expert, is that so?”
I lift the slice to my mouth and take a big bite, mumbling a barely comprehendible, “Yep.”
A couple of black olives then slide off, and I add, “Crap. I think those just went under the table.”
“See,” Eden says, preening, “that’s why I use a fork and a knife. There’s less likelihood of topping loss.”
“Hmm, you may have a point. But using a fork and knife is not nearly as much fun.”
Playfully, she chides, “I bet if you tried it, you’d like it.”
Hmm, there are many things I’d like to try with her.
And I bet I’d like them all.
Softly, I tell her, “Sure. I’m game.”
“Cool.”
She gets me to eat a slice her way, and I, of course, talk her into trying my method.
“No, you aren’t getting the curl right,” I announce when she tries my technique and fails, meaning she loses pretty much all of her olives.
“What am I doing wrong, Graham? I swear I curled it the exact same way you did.”
“Nah, you have to get the grip just right.” I reach over and still my hand above one of her slices. “Is it okay if I show you what I mean?”
“Sure.”
I pick up a slice and curl it just perfectly. I think about transferring it to her hand like that, but instead lift it to her mouth. It feels natural and right to feed her.
Softly, I ask, “Is this all right?”
She nods, taking a tiny bite.
No toppings are lost, and I call my curling technique a victory.
“See. Now there’s much less mess.”
“Yeah,” she snorts. “Kind of like when you use a fork and a knife.”
My gaze meets hers. “It’s funny how that packet of info neglected to mention how stubborn you are, Eden Vetterly.”
“Ha!” She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s funny too how it didn’t offer any information on how I’m fake relationship-ing with a professional pizza eater.”
I shake my head. “Such a shame, the things they missed.”
“For sure.”
We share a chuckle, and I decide to ask her something I’ve been curious about for a while.
“Speaking of the things they missed, I noticed there wasn’t any mention of a guy in your life.”
Eden levels me with an are-you-serious-right-now look.
When I shrug, she says, “Do you think if I were dating someone, I’d be okay with an arrangement like ours? Hell, do you think he would?”
I chuff, “I know I sure wouldn’t. That is, if you were really my girl.”
Picking up another slice of pizza—and curling it the way I taught her—Eden murmurs, “Yeah, I bet you wouldn’t.”
I should drop this subject, but I really want to know why someone as stunning and sweet as her doesn’t have a man in her life.
“There was also no mention of any recent boyfriends,” I go on.
“Did you say boyfriends, as in plural?” She laughs. “That’s probably because I like to date just one guy at a time, Graham.”
“Ha-ha, funny girl. But seriously, what’s up with that?”
“My, my, Mr. Tettersaw, you sure are nosy.”
Raising a brow, I volley back, “Just trying to get to know my pretend girlfriend.”
“Touché, Graham touché.”
I figure she’s not going to tell me, which is fine. I really have no right to even be asking.
But to my surprise, she leans back in the booth and says, “It’s all right, I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“Making me work for it, huh?”
“Something like that.” She blows out a breath. And then, in a much more serious tone, she says, “There’ve been a couple of guys over the past few years, one even a few months ago. They were boyfriends, yes, but not really serious ones.”
“Hmm, interesting,” I murmur.
Sighing, she says, “I think my life is not all that much fun for someone in their early twenties. I mean, I have my brother to worry about. And before that, it was my dad.”
“Was he sick?” I ask. “I thought it said so in the info packet.”
“Yeah, he was, It was pretty tough the last year he was alive.”
“Eden, I’m so sorry.”
She looks sad and all I want to do is scoot over and give her a hug.
But that would be weird, right?
Shit, I don’t know.
I never have the chance, anyway. The waiter returns to see if we need anything, and the moment is lost.
Since we’re done eating, I sigh and just say, “Can we have the check, please.”
My Secret Place
Graham is so damn easy to talk to. I never open up like this to anyone, but with him it’s different. I want to share things with this man.
I think about why that is as we’re leaving the pizzeria.
Because you like him, Eden. Like for real like him. And he’s a good dude.
It’s true, I do.
There’s no need to fake that.
And he is a good dude, a really good one.
We reach our cars and Graham walks over to the driver’s side of his Porsche, mentioning something about seeing me back at the house.
But I don’t want this night to end, not yet.
So I ask, “Are you really in the mood to just go home?”
He stops and cocks his head, peering over the roof of his car at me.
He looks good in the dim glow of the parking lot lights, his blond hair tousled and his face more chiseled than ever in the shadows.
“What did you have in mind?” he asks.
I tap my finger to my chin. “Hmm, well I know clubs and bars are out, and that’s fine with me since that’s not really my scene, either. Let me think about it for a minute.”
Graham, looking amused, nods. “Okay.”
That’s when I come up with a brilliant idea, a chance to get him alone but away from the house, where all the rules are in play.
Whoa, wait, why do I want to get him alone?
And why do I want to forget about the rules?
I ignore my conscience’s call to analyze and just say in a rush of words, “Would you want to take a drive out to the country? I know this really cool spot where we can park and check out all the stars.” I look up. “It’ll be really dark out there. We’ll be able to see everything.”
Maybe even the truth of how we feel about
each other and what we’re hiding from, I almost add.
But I don’t.
Chuckling, Graham says, “Trying to get me alone in the dark, Eden?”
If he only knew…
He’s teasing, but that’s exactly my intention. Maybe the man will relax and kiss me. I tell myself that would be good because we may have to kiss in public sometime.
But who am I kidding?
I want Graham’s hot lips on me for purely selfish reasons—I am insanely attracted to the man. And it’s not just due to his über-fine looks. No, I like him for him. I like who he is as a person.
And, frankly, I’m tired of fighting it.
“Eden?” he prompts when I just stand there like a fool, lost in thoughts of what it might be like to kiss Graham Tettersaw.
Finally, I murmur, “Oh, sorry. I was just, um, thinking about something.”
Graham must think I’m mad over his comment, since he says, “Hey, I was just kidding about you wanting to get me alone in the dark.”
Swishing my hand in the air, I assure him, “I know. That wasn’t why I was being quiet.”
Figuring I should provide an explanation, I lamely add, “I was just, uh, figuring out logistics.”
“Logistics?”
“Yes, on how best to get to my stargazing spot. I’m thinking I should probably drive since I know where we’re going.”
“That works for me,” he says. “I’m not about to pass up a chance to ride in your sweet new Audi.”
“It is really awesome, isn’t it?” I remark as we hop in.
“It is,” Graham replies, belting up. “Are you glad you went ahead and bought it?”
“I most definitely am.”
We leave the restaurant parking lot and head out toward farm country, soon leaving the city lights far behind.
When we pass through several acres of cornfields, Graham tells me he’s amazed by how much corn there is and how close the plants come up to the sides of the road.
“You’d never see anything like that back where I’m from,” he says. “Everything is so open out west.”
“Hmmm,” I murmur.
Looking around, he says, “This actually feels a little claustrophobic.”
I glance over at him. “How do you mean?”
“Well, imagine if you got lost in all that corn. You might never find your way out.”
I laugh. “Like the big old endless desert isn’t creepy at all.”
“Hey, at least you can see the predators coming at you.”
“That’s better?” I exclaim. “Seeing what’s coming after you? No, thank you.”
“You could at least run away then, Eden. In the cornfields, you’re pretty much trapped.”
I hold up my hand. “Not necessarily. You can always hide amongst the many stalks.”
“And possibly never find your way out,” Graham chuffs. “That’s a hard pass for me.”
Smiling slyly, I assure him, “Never fear, big strong man intimidated by the corn. We’ll be hitting the soybean crops soon. You’ll like them much better. They’re nice and short, good visibility.”
That makes him laugh.
He’s such a good sport about things.
When we reach the soybeans, still playing along, he leans back in his seat and remarks, “Ah, you’re right. This is so much better.”
“I knew you’d like them,” I exclaim. “But don’t get too comfortable. We have a stretch of boogey woods coming up. We have to get through those before we reach our destination.”
“Boogey woods?” Graham chortles. “Is that kind of like Boogie Nights?”
“Not even close. We’re talking dark and spooky forest here.”
“Great,” Graham deadpans.
I can’t deny how fun it is to watch him out of his element. Even if he is mostly kidding around, I like that I can be the one to show him new things.
When we finally hit the woods, Graham jokes, “Jesus, Eden, it is dark as hell. Promise me you’re not taking me to this mystery spot of yours to knock me off.”
I suppress a giggle.
Graham’s funny when he’s in full laid-back mode. I like this side of him.
“I promise that I have no ill intent. And don’t worry. You’re going to love where we end up.”
“I bet I do,” he murmurs.
Why do his words make my heart flutter? Maybe because where we eventually end up might be more than my stargazing spot. Maybe there is more in store for us.
Please.
Why am I even showing Graham this spot out in no-man’s-land that I found a long time ago?
I guess because sharing is what we do. It brings us closer, and I want to be close to him as possible.
That’s why I’m glad we’re almost at our destination. We’ll be totally alone there.
We’ve been traveling uphill for a while, and the woods begin to thin. As the dark sky once again becomes visible, a flash of lightning brightens the horizon.
“Crap, it’s going to rain,” I say.
Graham peers up at the sky through the windshield. “I don’t know. We probably have a little time before it reaches us.”
He’s right. The storm is pretty far off in the distance.
Besides, it’s too late to turn back now. In so many ways.
When we reach the clearing at the top of the hill, I announce that this is the spot.
“This is where I come to think, to mourn, to feel happy, and sometimes, to just be sad.”
“Well, it seems really cool and peaceful,” Graham states, glancing around.
“It is.”
I’ve never shared this place or what it means to me with anyone, not even Paul. But sharing with Graham feels right.
Lowering his head, he scans the horizon. “You were right. We’re pretty high up here.”
I nod and confirm, “Yeah, this is one of only a few places around Columbus where it isn’t completely flat.”
“I see that.” Pointing down to the woods below, he asks, “Is the road we were just on hidden in those trees?”
“Uh-huh.”
He looks over at me, a smile playing at his lips. “So I survived the boogey woods?”
“Yes, you did.” I smile over at him. “You made it through unscathed.”
A bolt of lightning lights up the sky, this time accompanied by a rumble of thunder. But Graham and I ignore it all, our conversation the only thing that matters.
Graham asks softly, “Have you named this place?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Ah, so what should we call it, then? The lookout spot?”
Hmm, I’m thinking more “the make-out spot.”
Shit, I can’t say that.
We’re not there…yet.
But I want us to be, so I say, “Hmm, I don’t know about the lookout spot. It’s not what’s below us that make this place so special.” I point upward. “It’s what’s above us, Graham.”
Teasing, he says, “What, the impending storm?”
I push his solid-as-a-rock shoulder and admonish, “No.”
Lowering his head, he peers up through the windshield. “Ah, yes, the stars, right?”
“Yes, but…” I pop open the door. “They’re not best viewed from inside the car. We need to go outside to appreciate their beauty.”
Graham is going to love this, I just know it. I only hope we have some time to enjoy our stargazing before it rains.
Hmm, and maybe some time for a little kissing too.
I grab a flannel blanket from the trunk. I always keep one in any car I own in case of an emergency. I find it also comes in handy for impromptu stargazing sessions like this one.
Spreading the plaid blanket over the hood of the Audi, I say to Graham, “The view is best enjoyed while lying on your back.”
I don’t even care how that that sounds totally suggestive.
I look over and see Graham’s trying not to laugh.
“Shut up,” I say, chuckling myself. “Just get up on
the damn blanket.”
“Ooh, it gets even better. A woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to demand it. I like that.”
Rolling my eyes at him, he easily hoists himself up onto the hood of the car. I follow suit, leaning back on the blanket.
He then lies down next to me.
Graham’s so big and warm that I can feel his heat emanating from his body. And he smells so damn good too, all soap and oh-so male.
So what do I do? I breathe him in.
What I’d really like to do is cuddle into him, place my nose next to his skin, maybe on his big, strong corded neck…
“Shit, woman, this is spectacular.”
Wait, what are we talking about here?
That’s right—the stars.
Clearing my throat and my wandering mind, I say, “I knew you’d like it.”
“You were right, Eden. I love it.”
He shifts, leaving our shoulders touching.
I make no effort to move.
Hell no.
Are you crazy?
We lie quietly like that for a while, just enjoying the twinkling of the stars, punctuated by a soundtrack of ever-increasing rumbles of thunder. Clouds are beginning to roll in too as the storm moves closer.
Soon the stars will be hidden.
But it doesn’t matter.
Turning on his side to face me, Graham smiles over at me. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” I whisper back.
He brushes away a lock of my hair that had fallen across my cheek.
“Thank you for bringing me up here, Eden. It means a lot that you shared your special spot with me.”
Why must he look so incredibly handsome in the moonlight while saying such sweet things?
Why does he have to be so genuinely nice?
The connection between us is definitely strengthening.
“I’m glad I shared it with you,” I say softly. “I knew you’d like it up here.”
Looking contemplative, he muses, “We sure seem to like a lot of the same things, huh?”
“We do, Graham.”
“It feels good when we’re together too, even when we’re not really doing anything.”
He’s searching my face, and I know he needs an answer. This time, unlike in the past, I don’t turn away.
No, this time I nod and agree. “It does.”
“And why do you think that is, Eden?”
Oh my God, this is getting heavy. And it’s leading right to where I want it to.
