Not For Me

by Laura Jardine

  She picked up a sturdy chair, set it under the light, and climbed on top. She was barely tall enough for this. Stupid short genes. First order of business: removing the light fixture cover. It looked like a breast, actually—a frosted half sphere with a gold nipple.

  And she didn’t see a screw anywhere. How the hell did it come off? She peered at it this way and that, but couldn’t figure it out. How many Kristys does it take to change a lightbulb?

  She stepped off the chair and called Grant.

  “This is embarrassing, but the light in my kitchen just burned out, and I don’t know how to take off the cover on the light fixture. Could I describe it to you, and maybe you could give me some ideas? I bet your practical skills include this sort of thing.”

  “Want me to come over and take a look?” he asked.

  “Really? That’s so nice of you. Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do right now?”

  “It’s not a problem. Give me a half hour or so.”

  When she got off the phone, she realized how bizarre the whole thing was. Why had she immediately called Grant rather than looking on the Internet or calling Allison? And he’d immediately offered to come over. Hadn’t tried to figure it out over the phone, or suggest she ask the super.

  He was so nice. She’d order a pizza.

  But why had she called him first?

  * * * *

  Grant probably could have figured it out over the phone in thirty seconds, but he wasn’t going to pass up an excuse to see Kristy.

  Tomorrow Maya would call Kristy after their supposed date—they weren’t actually going to go out—and say it wasn’t going to work out between them. No sparks, or something like that. So he shouldn’t say anything to Kristy until after tomorrow, until after she knew nothing would happen with Maya.

  But she had called him. That was a good sign.

  “You didn’t have to come,” she said as he followed her into the kitchen. “But thank you so much. I can’t believe this. So silly of me.”

  Grant had seen these breast-like fixtures many times before. He knew exactly how to take it off. Easy peasy. He’d been a little worried it would be something complicated that would take him several minutes to figure out with Kristy there to distract him.

  “See this?” He stood on the chair below the light and tapped the gold-colored nipple. “You have to turn it. Then the whole thing comes off.”

  “Oh?” She was leaning against the counter, watching him. “The nipple part? Don’t you think it looks like a breast?” She laughed. “You must think I make everything dirty after the massage and our conversation in the car on Sunday.”

  He shrugged, not quite certain how to respond. He sure thought a lot about sex around Kristy, and he didn’t mind if his presence did the same to her. But he didn’t want to say that. Not yet.

  “It hadn’t occurred to me until today that it looks like a boob,” she said. “Can’t believe I couldn’t figure it out. I was looking for screws.”

  Screw. Yeah, she made everything dirty.

  He turned the nipple and removed the breast. Then he handed it to her, and she gave him a new bulb.

  “I could do it myself now that I know how it works,” she said. “But you might as well finish the job. Easier for you. I’m vertically challenged, and it’s hard to reach.”

  He had the bulb in now—had screwed it in. He held out the old one, and she held out the light-fixture cover. He made brief contact with her hand as they made the exchange, and added it to his mental list of the times they had touched.

  “I was at the movies with Maya and Allison a few weeks back, and Maya and I had to switch places because I couldn’t see over the head of the guy in front of me. It was one of those old theaters with red seats that don’t have stadium seating. You wouldn’t believe I was one of the tallest kids in the class when I was young. But I stopped growing at eleven or twelve.”

  He put the breast back in place, turned the nipple to secure it, and discreetly checked out her breasts. Not for the first time, of course. He imagined cupping her breasts in his hands, taking one in his mouth…

  He should probably get down from here.

  “Thank you so much,” she said after he stepped off the chair. “I’m such a dunce. But you came all the way here, so I ordered pizza. Is that okay? It should be here soon.”

  That was more than okay. “Sure. I had no plans for dinner.” He flicked the light switch.

  “Thank you,” she said again, though it was only a little thing, and treated him to a dazzling smile.

  Then she stepped away from the counter and threw her arms around him. He returned the hug, but he wouldn’t do anything more right now, even though she felt so good in his arms. He wouldn’t do anything unless…

  She stood on her toes and tilted her head up; maybe he would get to kiss her. She rubbed her thumb in a circle at the corner of his mouth and studied his face. Her expression was serious, as though she was trying to figure him out. He nodded. Yes, I want this. Her lips parted slightly, and he dropped his head down and—

  The phone rang and she sprang away.

  Damn pizza.

  * * * *

  Grant seemed too big for her tiny kitchen table, like he was sitting at a table for a child. Grant, who’d almost hit his head on the light fixture when he stood on the chair. Kristy couldn’t get over the fact that she’d been unable to figure it out. Or maybe she’d subconsciously decided not to figure it out, so she could call him, have him come over, and kiss him.

  Yeah, she’d almost kissed him. And when she’d come back upstairs after getting the pizza, she still wanted to kiss him. But she didn’t. Because of Maya. But Kristy had to admit she wanted him for herself.

  He’d let her touch his face, and she could have sworn he’d been moving in to kiss her, too. Did he feel the same way?

  No. It was just her imagination. It had to be; he belonged to Maya.

  Grant reached for his fourth slice of pizza and took a bite. He took small bites for a big man. She couldn’t stop watching his mouth.

  “When are you seeing Maya?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow. Drinks.” He smiled.

  How had this happened? She was supposed to make sure he was a decent guy. That was all. And it wasn’t just that she wanted to go to bed with him, wasn’t just that she wanted to see if his skills in that area were as good as she imagined. No, she wanted the kind of future with Grant that she’d envisioned for him and Maya. Seeing him had become the highlight of her week, and the thought that she wouldn’t get to spend all this time alone with him anymore…it was unbearable.

  “Any other plans for the weekend?” she asked.

  “Some work, some errands. Hopefully I’ll finish your shelf.”

  “I’ve got to work tomorrow morning, as usual.” She would keep talking to drown out her inappropriate thoughts. “Then I’m having lunch with my parents. I told Allison I’d go shopping with her later in the afternoon. I need a new pair of black shoes because the heel’s starting to come off the right shoe of my favorite pair. And I haven’t been to the gym all week. Should probably get on that. There’s a movie I want to watch, too.” She paused for a bite. “If you like, you can stay for a little while now. I’ll make Irish coffee. But I won’t add much booze because you’re driving home afterward.” Or maybe he didn’t have to drive home tonight…So much for keeping her inappropriate thoughts at bay. “Though I bet your tolerance is much better than mine. Being tiny and female is a disadvantage there. So what do you think?”

  “Sure, I’ll stay.” He glanced at the pizza box as though considering whether he should have another piece.

  “Help yourself.” She smiled, pleased she’d get to spend more time with him.

  He shook his head. “But the Irish coffee would be good.”

  “I’ll make it when I finish this slice.” It was only her second one—she was slow.

  “Take your time. I’m in no rush.”

  Maybe it would work out with
him and Maya. But maybe, just maybe…

  No. She hoped it worked out with Maya, who was a good friend, but had made many poor choices when it came to men. Either she dated men whom she thought she could change but couldn’t, or men who seemed great on the outside but had secret lives. After years of that, she’d become pessimistic about relationships.

  But Grant didn’t need to be reformed, and she was sure he didn’t have any shady secrets. As she’d told him, he was the kind of man who could change a woman’s mind about love. A man who could change a woman’s mind about mustaches.

  She had it bad.

  She made the Irish coffee. He got cream in his mustache, and she wished she could wipe it off. Wished he’d kiss her to stop the near-endless stream of chatter that poured from her lips as she tried not to think about being with him.

  Which became impossible when he abandoned his coffee and started rubbing her shoulders.

  “I think you’re wound up,” he said. “Try to relax.”

  Well, if he was offering a massage, she wasn’t going to turn it down. She closed her eyes and bit her lip so she wouldn’t say, Oh, Grant. Harder.

  But while he was touching her—he was touching her!—she allowed herself to pretend.

  They were in Portugal together, lying side by side on the beach. Reading, perhaps, or just sunbathing. She wasn’t wound up at all; she was completely relaxed. And later, back in their room, he was giving her a proper massage, touching her bare skin, and then—

  “Your last relationship, why did it end?” he asked. “You didn’t tell me.”

  Her eyes flew open. Just as it was getting interesting. Damn.

  “It was a stupid fight about where to go for dinner,” she replied. “I had a craving for a burger and fries at McDonald’s or Wendy’s. I hadn’t had fast food in forever, and I wanted a stupid cheeseburger served by a perky teenager in a horrible uniform. But Lev said fast food was the root of all evil.”

  “I think that’s going overboard.”

  “Yeah, well. He suggested we try a new burger place near his apartment. The waits were long and there was barely anywhere to sit, but it was the place to be.” She arched her back. “Keep going. Right there. That’s perfect.”

  He was giving her a massage and listening to her rant about her ex. That didn’t seem like something a man would do if he was merely friends with a woman, did it? Hmmm.

  “Then I told him I’d worked at McDonald’s in high school, and he broke up with me.”

  “For working at McDonald’s? That was an unforgivable sin?”

  “Apparently.”

  “His loss.”

  She turned her head back to look at Grant, and he stopped rubbing. “And why is that?”

  He blinked.

  “You can’t say something like that and not explain it. After all, I explained why I thought you’d be good in bed.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “You did. It made you blush.”

  “Did not!”

  He didn’t call her out on the lie, but glanced sideways and kneaded one of her shoulders with his thumb. “If the way you treat your friends is any indication, then you’d be one hell of a girlfriend.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at how much effort you put into finding a date for Maya.”

  But she wouldn’t have spent so much time checking him out if she weren’t crazy about him. Because yeah, she was. That was obvious to her now. And she was a horrible friend—she wanted to steal him from Maya.

  “I worked at Burger King, actually. I must be evil too, so don’t listen to what I say.” He gave her a lopsided smile.

  Kristy laughed, looking forward now. He started rubbing her shoulders again, and it was several seconds before she could form words—rather unusual for her. If he bent down, he could kiss her neck. She hated herself for wanting that.

  “I think the breakup had been inevitable for a month by that point. I’d already half checked out of the relationship. Maybe he had, too.” She could feel the warmth of Grant’s hands. Dangerous. “You can stop now. You should finish your coffee while it’s still warm.”

  “If you’re sure, but I don’t mind.”

  “I’m fine. Much better now.” Her shoulders felt like they were glowing. Glowing.

  He sat down and raised his mug to his lips.

  “Is that what happens for you?” she asked. “The little things build up, then you break up over something totally stupid? For every boyfriend, there were small things I didn’t like from the beginning, and somehow they grew over time. Lev was so particular. He had strong convictions, but he wasn’t an activist. He just liked spouting his views, which ultimately led to a stupid fight about McDonald’s. I look back on it now, and I wonder how I ever tolerated it.”

  “It was never like that for me.”

  “I can’t think of anything you do that would get on my nerves, come to think of it.”

  He leaned forward. “Not that I’m compulsively neat? That everything has to be in just the right place? That I organize my T-shirts by color? Not that I let you see that.”

  “No, I’m neat too.”

  “Serial killer, you said.”

  “Sorry about that.” She stared at her empty cup because it hurt to look at him. Why couldn’t she have gone up to him in the bookstore and asked him out? Hell, that would have been more normal.

  He squeezed her hand. “Something wrong?”

  “No.” He was touching her now. Nothing was wrong.

  “Okay.” He let go. “Sara thought organizing shirts by color was ridiculous, but that’s not why she broke up with me.”

  Her loss, Kristy wanted to say.

  “The boyfriend before Lev, he could never be wrong,” she said. “It was so annoying. I doubt anyone ever describes you as annoying.”

  “Jon might disagree.”

  “I had a guy break up with me because I talk too much. At least there, I could see his point. I was even worse when I was twenty, believe it or not.” She really wished Grant would kiss her to shut her up.

  “I like it,” he said.

  Her stomach lurched like she was on a roller coaster. She reached across the table and touched his shoulder. “You want a rub? I owe you.”

  He stood up. “You have to work tomorrow. I should get going.”

  And with that, he left, leaving Kristy alone with her inappropriate thoughts. They involved Grant, a bed, and very little talking. But lots of moaning. And tongue.

  She was a terrible friend, lusting after Maya’s date like this.

  But wasn’t it a little odd that he’d given her two shoulder massages? That he’d come right over when she had a problem with her light? What about his compliments, the way he teased her? On the other hand, he’d declined a massage and left rather abruptly. Plus he had a date with Maya tomorrow.

  Maybe she could play third wheel. Just for the first hour. Maya and Grant hadn’t met before, so wouldn’t it make sense for Kristy to be there since she knew both of them?

  If they were hitting it off, she would absolutely leave him alone. But if not…

  Had he leaned down when she’d been about to kiss him? Or was that her imagination?

  Chapter 6

  Shortly after getting home, Grant got a call from Maya.

  “Nine o’clock tomorrow at O’Malley’s Pub,” she said. “We’ve got a date—a real one.”

  “I thought—”

  “Kristy wants to tag along for a bit. Says she wants to introduce us in person, see how that date’s going. I think it’s a lame excuse to see you.” Maya lowered her voice. “She’s trying to come between us. You gonna let her?”

  “I think I will,” he said. “No offense.”

  “None taken. I’m glad, too.”

  He worked the following morning. In the afternoon he went to Jon and Sheila’s, where he helped Jon paint the basement. Good busywork to keep his mind off Kristy.

  Except that Jon, once he finished talking about Caiden and hockey, wan
ted to talk about Grant’s upcoming “date,” which Grant had stupidly informed him of the night before.

  “We have a bet, Sheila and I.”

  Grant dipped the roller into the paint tray and removed the excess paint. “Of course you have a bet.” He started on the back wall.

  “Sheila bet against you making this work,” Jon said. “So you gotta do it, man. I’ve got a thousand bucks riding on this.”

  “A thousand bucks?”

  “It’s our little joke.” Jon stopped painting and turned toward Grant. “Since we have a joint bank account, it doesn’t matter. Really, it’s who gets to cook dinner tomorrow.”

  Relationships always had those inside jokes. Grant wanted to have them with Kristy.

  Crap. Good thing there was a drip sheet.

  * * * *

  After having sushi for dinner, Kristy and Maya got to O’Malley’s at eight thirty and sat at a four-person table adjacent to the bar.

  Kristy now regretted her decision to play third wheel. Grant probably thought nothing of her. Just a friend. She was silly to think she was anything more to him. Because if she were, wouldn’t he have done something by now? At the very least, he’d have backed out of this date with Maya.

  So when a reasonably attractive man named Brady started chatting her up, Kristy didn’t discourage him. Brady was wearing a plaid shirt, jeans that were a little tighter than men usually wore them, and a black beret. His hair was rather long, and he had a goatee. He was the kind of guy she’d usually date—nothing like Grant.

  Brady had a friend with him, who talked to Maya for a few minutes until Kristy mentioned that Maya was meeting a guy any minute. But Brady stayed and sat beside Kristy. He pushed his hair out of his face, stroked his goatee, and raved about the concert he’d been to last night. Some group called the Poisoned Ducklings. “Nobody’s heard of them, but they’re an experience.” He was drinking a craft beer called Poisonous Acorn and claimed this was the only bar in Toronto where you could find it.

  Kristy had a sip. It tasted like ordinary, cheap beer, but Brady kept going on about the unique undertones of tangerine peel. She wondered why it was called Poisonous Acorn.