by Hazel Parker
Shaking my head, I tried to distract myself by going to my bedroom, where I checked everything to make sure that nothing was taken. Then I went to the kitchen, eyeing the chocolate chip cookies and feeling my mouth water. My resistance wavered, and I inwardly cursed, but I already began planning to apologize when both our emotions were better and calmer. I could take her out to dinner and make it clear that while I was up for being friends, beyond that just wasn’t in the picture, and she was going to take it or leave it.
Unable to help myself, I bit into the cookie, feeling it sink into my teeth and my tongue. Chewy, gooey, chocolaty. It tasted perfect. I closed my eyes in bliss, then sniffed the air again as the scent still wafted and pleased my senses. Why was it so familiar? Where had I smelled this before…?
Something started niggling in my brain—a memory, as taste and scent combined. There was laughter, along with turkey and homemade gravy. There were the cookies, just as good as they were now.
It was Christmas.
My eyes snapped open as the pieces fell into place. Horror filled me, but it wasn’t the horror of the memory itself.
It was the horror of realizing who exactly I’d driven out of my place.
Jesus. Fuck.
I didn’t even need to look at the date because I shouldn’t have forgotten it: move-in day. A quick scan around confirmed what my mind was telling me: the duffel bag right beside the couch, which I’d missed earlier. Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I just insulted, mocked, and ridiculed Kate Isaacs—Paul’s little sister.
Oh, he was so going to kill me.
CHAPTER SIX
KATE
Men were pigs, and Gray Denton was the biggest pig of them all.
I was so furious that I was shaking, the elevator’s camera the only thing preventing me from throwing a fit and punching something right then and there. Paul had assured me that his friend was a good guy, but what I saw in that horrible encounter was far from a good guy. Not only did he look at me like I was some kind of conquest that could just please him anytime he wanted…he also insulted me by telling me a blowjob was all I was good for.
The stupid pig.
The thought had me getting pissed off all over again, something that wasn’t good. A storm cloud hung above my head, and I was ready to hiss like a cat and call Paul to rant at him about his so-called “friend.” Belatedly, I realized that my phone wasn’t with me, but not only that.
My bag wasn’t with me, either, because I left it upstairs.
The realization came along with that of having to go back upstairs and face the embarrassment once more. I groaned as the elevator door opened to the lobby. I gritted my teeth and stayed in, just wanting to just get it done and over with.
The teeth-gritting turned into squeaking when a hand stopped the door from closing and pushed it back—a large, familiar hand. I looked up.
Gray’s dark gray eyes were staring back at me.
I was so surprised to see him suddenly downstairs that I didn’t say anything for the first few seconds. Then what happened earlier slammed into me again, and I was narrowing my eyes before I knew it.
“You’re Kate Isaacs,” he blurted out before I could say a word. “I’m so damn sorry.”
The words weren’t what I expected. I blinked, then took a step back when Gray entered the elevator. It closed right away, leaving us standing without moving as I hadn’t pressed any button yet. Suddenly the elevator felt too small with his presence, and I didn’t realize until now just how tall and…large he was. It wasn’t the fat kind of large, and I became highly aware of the muscles that rested on his hard frame, hidden by his dark jeans and his white shirt. There was a three o’clock shadow on his chin, and instead of making him look messy, it only made him look more…dangerous.
Sexy.
As soon as the thought entered my head, I slammed it down. I lifted my chin and stared at him head-on, ignoring the intensity of his gaze and the sheer attractiveness of his face. I could handle that.
“I’m going to get my bag and check in somewhere,” I said, my voice coming out prim. I cleared my throat. “Good night, Mr—”
“No. You’re staying here.”
My eyes widened at the declaration, said in a stubborn tone. It put my back up in defense, and I was crossing my arms before I knew it.
“No,” I bit out.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Damn it,” he said.
“Language,” I corrected before I could stop myself.
“Christ. I’m really sorry,” he muttered. Instead of the anger I expected, it was frustration that radiated off him in waves. He brushed a hand through his hair, messing it up. Again, it should have made him look weird, but he ended up just looking ridiculously attractive.
Oh, God. I should take a seat right now and stop it with these thoughts.
“You’re sorry you insulted me?” I asked, doubtful.
Gray winced. He sighed, took a deep breath. “Let me explain.”
“Then explain,” I shot back, glaring.
“I thought you were a stalker.”
My brows rose at that. Was he trying to make fun of me right now because of my ex? I was about to give him a piece of my mind before I watched his face closely and realized that he was serious.
“Stalker?” I echoed.
He nodded his head. Then Gray began to explain about this woman that he had a…tryst with when he’d been drunk and how she hadn’t left him alone since. It started with proposals of marriage and escalated into letters and emails asking to meet up with him, then stalking and hanging out in the apartment building’s lobby late at night—which was apparently the reason why he hadn’t slept here. My brows rose, and I found myself incredulous that someone would go to that extent for some guy she liked who didn’t like her back.
It was sad. It also reminded me too much of my ex, and a sliver of compassion slid inside me at Gray’s plight. But that didn’t excuse all the things he said to me.
“If you really disliked this woman, you should have told her the truth instead of insulting her like that,” I said. “Assuming you thought that woman was me.”
“I did,” he said, sighing again. “She won’t listen.”
I tilted my head. “So she’s still going to keep stalking you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.” Our gazes met again. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve apologized three times,” I reminded him.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
The decision passed over me in a quick flash. One part of me screamed that this was stupid.
But another part of me—instinct, maybe—told me that he was telling the truth about everything, including being deliberately lecherous to that woman. They often said you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover—well, at least Paul kept telling me that.
As this man, Gray, waited for my response, I pressed the top floor button of the elevator. The ding was loud and clear, followed by the smooth motion.
“Only if you allow me to help you out when the woman shows up again to stalk you,” I said.
Silence followed.
Then a slow grin broke out on his lips, one that was smug and satisfied at the same time.
Oh, boy.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
* * *
No woman showed up on that day, or the next few days that followed. Instead, Gray and I adjusted to each other, as we were both new to this thing—him having a woman in his apartment, and me living with a guy.
As it was, Gray often had to leave in the morning to work out, only coming back when he was all sweaty and needing breakfast. To my surprise, the man actually knew how to cook—healthy dishes, yes, but they tasted good all the same and had my taste buds exploding in flavor and surprise. When he wasn’t working out in the morning, he was out to drive laps, something that puzzled me because, well…didn’t you just drive a car
to the finish line and all that?
Paul called me on my third day in, when he was already in New York for yet another conference.
“How’s the big-shot cop doing there? How many ladies have gotten your number?”
There was a chuckle on the other end. I could already imagine Paul scratching his head at the second question, considering how true it was—except it was the other way around because it was the ladies who always gave him their numbers. My brother had been a pretty boy since high school, and women were all over him because he was a football player, too. I remembered him dating girls left and right without really committing to anyone, though he never played with any of them, either. Now, I was still waiting for that one woman who would capture his heart and actually have him reciprocate by giving his number.
“I’m not a big-shot,” he corrected, ignoring my second question completely. “But things are good here. I’ll be in Manhattan for a few more days before we head to Texas to have the lecture with more of the newbies. But how are you? How was your first meeting with Gray?”
“It was…memorable,” I said, stifling a laugh. I didn’t elaborate, knowing my overprotective brother was going to end up punching someone if he found out the truth. “I felt really welcomed and…yeah.”
“That’s great,” he said. “The guy’s my best pal, and he will definitely treat you right. How are you adjusting to Florida so far?”
I shrugged, then realized belatedly that he couldn’t see it. “It’s hot. It’s unfamiliar. I still need to find work.”
“Well, you still have your savings with you. Why don’t you stop cooping yourself up in his apartment and go out and have some fun? Go to the beach. Get some ice cream. Appreciate the view and all.”
“And meet some guys?” I teased.
“As long as I get to screen whoever that next son of a bitch is going to be.”
I laughed. “Fine. The beach it is, then. Come visit here soon. I already miss you.”
“Miss you too, sis,” he said. We talked some more before he said that he needed to go.
When we hung up, I decided to take his suggestion and changed into beach attire—bikini underneath and denim shorts and plain gray shirt on top. I debated leaving a note for Gray, then decided against it. We barely knew each other, and I doubt he’d even care about my comings and goings.
Besides, we were still pretty wary of each other, considering what had happened.
Ten minutes later, I was already outside the building and walking towards the nearby beach strip when my phone suddenly rang. A look at the caller ID had me raising a brow in surprise.
“Yes?”
“Where are you?” Gray asked on the other line. There was a bit of impatience in his tone, which was odd considering we’d been pretty pleasant with each other for the past three days.
Okay, fine, we’d been tiptoeing around each other.
“I’m on my way to the beach.” I paused. “Did you want to come?”
“No, but if you’re nearby, is there any chance you can come back here?” he asked. The impatience was there again. “I, uh…need a little help.”
A little help?
My eyes narrowed. “Is that chick there? Do you want me to punch her?”
There was shocked silence on the other end, followed by a deep, low laugh. Shivers slid down my spine, and I had to reluctantly admit again how charming even his laugh was. But it was the impersonal kind of appreciation because Lord knew anyone who would fall for this man was just asking for trouble.
“You realize if you punch someone, your brother would be pissed with you”, he asked in amusement.
“That’s ridiculous,” I muttered. “He’d be the first to throw a punch, considering how much the guy praises you. Are you sure you guys aren’t lovers?”
There was a choked scoff on the other line. “Do you know your brother?”
I grinned. “Yeah, fine. Maybe not. But what’s wrong?”
“Just come here. You’ll know when you’ll see it. I’ll apologize in advance.”
Apologize for what?
The guy was being so damn cryptic. Before I could ask further, he already hung up, even when I hadn’t even confirmed yet. I glared at the phone, then looked up at the apartment building where I needed to walk back to. Longing set over me at the thought of the beach and the ice cream I was craving, and I could practically smell the sea breeze already from where I was.
I sighed.
Then I walked back to the apartment as slowly as I could, thinking that there had to be some sort of explanation.
I mean, he didn’t deny the stalker being there. Maybe she really was.
If so, then I was going to do my end of our bargain.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRAY
“You got me a dog?”
The question was stated in such bafflement that I glanced at Kate for a few seconds before shaking my head. She did look confused, but her eyes were trained on what was in front of us like she couldn’t look away.
“No, my dog,” I replied. “Though not my idea.”
This time, she threw the baffled look my way and I sighed, trying to find the least odd explanation. But I realized there wasn’t one and decided to just go with the truth.
“It was my PR agent’s idea,” I clarified. “He said I needed the dog to clean up my image.”
As I spoke, I looked at the dog again. It was a puppy that looked like a cross between a chow-chow and…something…. It was a combination of gray and white, with a wagging tail and what had to be the most soulful looking eyes I’d ever seen in a while.
Those soulful eyes turned from me to Kate, and I watched as the woman beside me, who always looked so tough and prim-, melting right on the spot.
Her coffee-colored eyes softened, lightening in color. Her mouth opened, almost like she wanted to say something. And then she was suddenly approaching the dog and slowly kneeling down, her hands tentatively patting the dog’s ears before running it down the dog’s fur.
“She’s so silky,” she said, her tone mesmerized.
“He,” I corrected.
“He’s beautiful,” she murmured. Her hands kept running down the dog’s fur, and the dog who was almost wary and shy in the beginning, began to rub all over her hand—then her wrist, tail wagging harder than ever. The dog then moved forward and nuzzled her chest, making Kate giggle and turn into a pile of mush.
Wouldn’t you know it?
I looked at the scene with raised brows, not quite expecting it. When I called Kate asking for her to come home, it was more out of desperation than anything, considering my PR agent Mark scolded me for about an hour before thrusting the leashed dog in my hand, telling me to get the necessities because I was going to house this creature whether I liked it or not. Obviously, Steve hadn’t taken it easy on the PR agent, which resulted in him panicking and getting the dog before even consulting me.
It will help with your image, he’d said. Throw back all the thirsty gossip about your goddamn escapades with women.
I didn’t know anything about taking care of dogs, much less buying what a dog needed. I remembered Paul used to own one—and before I knew it, I was calling Kate and asking for help, because this dog had been whining when I took him home and I honestly didn’t know what to do. At all.
After more petting and nuzzling, Kate finally remembered my presence and glanced up at me. “Clean up your image?”
“It’s a long story,” I hedged.
“Something to do with your…sexual escapades?”
I raised a brow. “You’ve been reading up.”
“I had to,” she shot back. “I was living with a stranger.”
Fair point. I nodded my head. “My car owner wants me to straighten out my act and lay off partying and women for a while. My PR agent thinks this dog is a good start.”
“Do you know anything about taking care of dogs?” she asked.
“No.”
“Is your PR agent crazy?”
“I’m beginning to think so.”
A smile slid to her lips, which she tried to stifle. Kate was actually really cute when she smiled, though she didn’t really do it often in my presence. I couldn’t blame her considering our rough start.
“So this dog is yours now?”
I held out the papers, which Mark shoved into my chest earlier. “Seems like it.”
“And you want my help, is that it?”
“Yep. Your brother owned a dog.”
“Yeah, we did.” She tilted her head, considering. The dog buried his nose on her shoulder, which had her eyes lighting up. “I’ll help you if you let me buy him whatever he wants.”
“Great.”
“And I want to name him.”
“Fabulous. We’ve got ourselves a deal.”
We shook on it once more, and I realized that I was getting into more and more bargains with this woman in such a short amount of time. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but what the hell?
She could name the dog Satan for all I cared, so long as she helped me take care of it.
Pretty sweet deal, really.
Kate named the dog Chuck, and the first thing Chuck did when we got home from dog shopping was pee on my rug and yip loudly over and over. I glared at him, while Kate cooed at him, admonishing him like she would a child and telling him that they needed to get some long training hours in. She really did look set on doing so, and once she’d organized everything I’d brought home and Chuck was happily eating on the area beside the balcony sliding door we set up for him, an idea popped in my head.
“Any chance you want to take a paid job for dog-keeping?” I asked.
Kate shot me a look. “I’m doing this for free. No need to pay me.”
She might as well have said that money wasn’t an issue, and I realized I must have touched a chord. Paul did mention that she was still ticked for getting fired over the ex’s doing—which, if it happened to me, I would probably also be ticked off about. Not wanting to offend her, I decided on a different course of action.
