by A. J. Pine
Derek crossed his arms, the material of his gray henley pulling taut over thick biceps.
“I’m sorry,” she said, still laughing but at least able to formulate words. “It’s just— This is kind of a lot of pressure, you know? And then you said steam wand when I was thinking steam wand, and I just lost it. I hope you didn’t think I was laughing at you.”
He chuckled and shook his head.
“So…what you’re saying is that we might be so connected that we can communicate on a telepathic level. Because it’s either that, or I am a barista notorious for coffeehouse innuendo.” He shook his head again. “You know what? Don’t answer that. It’s B. I can’t stop it. It’s my only party trick.”
Her laughter continued, free and easy. She was enjoying herself. Maybe this whole reality-show aspect of her abstinence was a strange thing, but it was forcing her to come out of hiding.
At that moment a server came by to take their order, and Grace decided to splurge and try Jamie’s newest menu item for the fall: a cheddar ale soup. She rationalized it was still on the clean side since the beer was cooked into the soup, thereby burning off the actual alcohol.
Cleanse yourself inside and out to attain your best you.
That was the quote from the book that had made her swear off everything she thought was toxic to her well-being. But good Lord, she missed cheese. And what was one teeny-tiny splurge in the grand scheme of what she’d given up?
She closed her eyes and silently asked the universe to forgive her. When she opened them, Derek was staring at her with a questioning grin.
She shrugged. “Just having a little chat with the universe,” she admitted.
“Of course,” he said. “How’d everything go?”
Their server came back, sliding a crock of cheddar ale soup in front of Grace and a crock of French onion in front of Derek.
Her mouth watered.
“Damn,” Derek said. “I think you might have made the better choice.”
She dipped her spoon into the thick broth and licked it clean in what felt like a nanosecond. Her eyes shifted toward the bar where she found Jeremy, his gaze fixed on her, and the delicious warmth of the soup multiplied exponentially. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she saw him, but the absolute sincerity in his smile floored her.
“Yeah,” she said, realizing that no matter how great Derek was, he wasn’t the ginger behind the bar. Maybe she didn’t have to wait the full six months to trust her instincts. After all, she wasn’t basing this line of thought on a physical connection, but on the weeks she’d gotten to know Jeremy, on feeling that lightness in her chest when she walked into the bar and her eyes met his.
She didn’t want to date Derek. Or anyone else, for that matter. There was only one guy on her list. She knew that now, and she knew it with every other guy who’d sat across from her since this whole social media circus began.
Whoa.
“Derek,” she said. “I think we need to talk.”
Chapter Nineteen
It was hard to watch Grace on her date—not simply because she was on one but because Jeremy could tell she was enjoying herself. He wanted to call her now that he knew they were both home. You know, just to check in. At least that’s what he kept telling himself, but the logical part of his brain told him to stop being a selfish prick and give her some space. So he did.
But he could check the Grace Bailey Man Cleanse Facebook page like everyone else who watched the local news had probably done tonight. There was no harm in that, right?
The first thing he saw when he opened the Facebook app on his phone was that he had 113 notifications.
What the fuck?
When he scrolled up to the topmost notification, he saw, Grace Bailey has tagged you in a post.
This was surprising but by no means earth-shattering. Yet every other notification was a comment on that particular post—and the commenters were tagging him, too. And the number of comments continued to grow as he watched.
114
120
122
Again…what the fuck?
He had only joined Facebook a few weeks ago, which might have coincided with meeting Grace, and Whitney stampeding back into the picture and setting this whole ball in motion. The only notifications he got were if people found out he was on the social network and sent him a friend request.
He leaned back against his headboard and tapped on the original post where Grace had tagged him. And then he read.
I want to thank all of the lovely people I’ve met so far during this very public part of my
life. The past few weeks have made me realize that although I take the cleanse seriously, it doesn’t mean I have to shut myself off from the rest of the world. I don’t think I’d intended on doing that, but I did. I also didn’t intend on meeting someone I’d want to be exclusive with before this whole thing started. But I did. And maybe I’m violating my contract by doing this, but it’s not fair to those involved if I don’t. Jeremy Denning, I really like being your friend. But even without so much as a kiss, I feel like you’re so much more. You said you want it to be you on December 16 but that you’ll stand by and wait. Here’s the thing. I don’t want you to watch me date other people until then. I know I said I wanted to give myself the best chance at getting my life in order, but the thing is, as nice as all my dates have been (and I mean that), I still go home each night wanting the last person I talk to to be you.
I want to date you, Jeremy. Exclusively. But I also want to give viewers what they want on December 16. So what do you think, everyone? Want me to keep up with a new date each week? Or do you want to see what two months of “hands-free” dating is like? Anyone can go on a bunch of first dates and not worry about the physical part. But do you think two people can fall for each other without ever touching? And OMG, I maybe just admitted I might be falling for a guy I just met. Well, I guess it’s out there. Of course…Jeremy would have to say yes… What do you think, Chicago?
Jeremy couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted exactly this until she said it. And then there were the comments. Holy shit the comments.
Jen: Say yes, Jeremy!
Nat: Pictures, Grace! We want pictures of Jeremy Denning!
Megan: What a lucky guy! Jeremy would be crazy to say no!
Lia: I totally shipped you with the coffee guy, but I can be swayed with a shirtless photo.
Derek: Coffee guy thinks Grace is great, but he wants her to be happy.
Lia: OMG, you’re coffee guy! Can I ship ME with you instead?
Chanel: Lucky guy? More like saintly. Any man who’d go weeks without a little sumpin’ sumpin’ is either a saint or he’s getting some on the side. Jeremy Denning.
“Hey, now,” Jeremy said aloud. That comment wasn’t exactly trolling, but it finally hit him—what Grace had really signed herself up for. She had to put herself out there for all to see. People got to comment with their opinions on her life, and she not only had to read them, but she also had to interact.
And she wanted him. Only him. For the duration of the cleanse. He’d endured weeks of these dates and had convinced himself he was okay with it. But he’d grown to hate Wednesdays, which sucked because he and Wednesday were totally tight before Grace came along.
Grace: Thanks for the enthusiasm, everyone. Chanel, I don’t think anyone is a full-on sinner or saint. Nothing is that black and white. And maybe I am asking too much of him, considering we’ve only known each other for a little more than a month. And I respect his right to say he’s not ready for this. I also respect the generous TV station that’s letting me chronicle these few months for you. If Jeremy says yes, I hope you’ll let the show go on, even if we change up the format a bit. And if he says no, well then, I guess we’ll see.
He scrolled through the rest of the comments, skimming. Trying to keep up as the thread continued to grow. It had been an hour since she posted, and one thing was clear: a major
ity of Grace’s followers wanted her to be happy. He could get behind that. What he wasn’t down with were the many wannabe suitors calling him out on not yet responding when he’d only just seen the damned post.
Where is this Jeremy Denning?
What if he doesn’t show? Grace, forget this Jeremy who hasn’t even responded. Pick me!
I’ll wait for you! Jeremy Denning, how dare you leave this lovely woman hanging!
He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but one thing was for sure.
He wanted Grace. And Grace wanted him. They’d figure everything else out. He hoped she wasn’t fucking her contract by doing this, but if the growing response to her confession meant anything about how many people in Chicago were in Grace’s corner, Jeremy was confident she still had her December appearance on the local news and a shot at the money she so desperately needed.
Jeremy Denning: Hey, Grace. I thought you’d never ask.
He tried to make a winking emoticon and accidentally typed a semicolon and a zero.
“Shit,” he said, fumbling for that edit option his sister showed him once when she accidentally shared an inappropriate Tom Hiddleston meme on their aunt Bridget’s timeline instead of on Brynn’s. There. He just deleted the failed emoticon attempt and took it as a sign that he was not meant to use them. Ever.
Replies to his comment flooded in.
There he is!
All right, Jeremy!
He’s her lobster!
What the hell did that last one mean? It didn’t matter. None of the comments mattered, except one.
Grace: Hey, you. Wish you were here.
Jeremy: Soon. Wanna know the next best thing?
Grace: What’s that?
Jeremy: The phone.
Oh fuck it. He typed a winky face.
He closed out of Facebook, the thread of comments still growing, and didn’t even have a chance to pull up her number. His phone was already ringing.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he said after accepting the call.
“You just declared liking me on social media. You do know what you’re signing yourself up for, right? This won’t be a private courtship, so to speak.”
He could hear the incredulity in Grace’s voice, and his heart constricted in his chest.
“Seriously?” he said. “Grace, I’d have said yes if you asked me while we sat on the hallway floor of the Madison House Resort and Spa.”
He only realized now that this was true. He hadn’t put himself out there for three years, but his first meeting with Grace—and their heart-to-heart on the hotel floor—had been some sort of wake-up call. He’d had no intention of doing it again anytime soon. But then there she was, this woman who radiated warmth and light. She cared enough to force him to drink that bottle of water even when she knew his drunken dehydration had cost him a date with Kaylee, the spa receptionist. She’d gotten him to his room safely and could have left him to his own devices right then and there.
But she’d stayed.
Damn. Was that all it took? Someone to stay when he offered no reason why she should? Whitney seemed to have a laundry list of expectations that she used as her excuse to leave. But Grace expected nothing more than him—she wanted him as he was. Well, now he was offering to stay for her—for nothing more than her company and whatever came on or after December 16.
There was a long silence, but he could hear the faint sound of her breaths.
“Really?” she finally asked, and he loved that he could hear her smile.
“Really,” he said. “And what about you? Did you just risk your shot at twenty-five grand to ask me to go steady?”
She burst into laughter, and every part of him radiated with warmth. This woman. She was everything he never knew he wanted. Everything he hadn’t realized he needed.
“I think I played my hand pretty well,” she said after she stopped laughing. “With the whole public forum profession of my lo—really strong like for you.”
“So you’re saying you like me, huh? Like…like me, like me?”
He laughed at his own joke, even though he could feel her eyes rolling. That just made it more fun.
“Duh,” she said, and he laughed harder. “But I think we’ve got the public on our side. Even Derek—my, uh, date—wished us well in the comments. Not sure if you saw that one. It’s just, I was there with this really great, really cute guy who makes amazing lattes—”
“Is this supposed to be building my confidence?” he interrupted. “Because I’m sure Derek is a stand-up guy—”
“No interrupting!” she yelled, then waited.
Jeremy stayed silent.
“As I was saying, I was there with this really great, really cute guy…” She paused again, and he let her have her fun. “And all I could think was that he wasn’t you.” Her tone was serious now. “That wasn’t fair to him,” she said. “And it wasn’t fair to you.”
He let out a long breath, trying to take this all in.
“But if you lose the money, Grace…”
“I won’t.”
“But what if—?”
“Jeremy?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to kiss me on December sixteenth?”
He grinned. “Until you forget your own name.”
“Jeremy,” she warned, playfully.
“Right,” he said. “You won’t forget my name. I actually hope to hear you say it over and over again soon after that kiss, because once the cameras are off—”
“Jeremy Denning, unbutton your pants.”
“What?”
“I’m assuming you haven’t forgotten my name yet. And I think I’d like to hear you say it.”
“Grace.” He knew what she was doing, but he wanted to show her he was here for her. That he could put her needs above his own, just like he had that first night. “Tell me what you want,” he said.
She let out an exasperated breath. “I want to make you—you know.”
He laughed softly. “Trust me. I will.”
“But I’ve never made a guy come just by talking to him. Think you’d maybe let me try?”
He heard something that sounded like a paper wrapper.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Frozen chocolate-covered banana,” she said, a teasing lilt to her tone.
“You’re…having a snack?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said. “And pretending it’s you.”
His eyes widened as his dick threatened to do an impression of the Incredible Hulk.
And then he unbuttoned his jeans.
Chapter Twenty
What the hell was she doing? The last time she had a phone call like this with Jeremy, he took the wheel, and she had willingly and happily let him. In fact, that happily had carried her through the whole weekend in Madison. The thought of it now almost made her lose her concentration.
But she wanted tonight to be about Jeremy, to show him that she could do for him what he had done for her—even if she’d never done it before. He gave her time. And patience. And the best orgasm she’d had in…well, she’d never orgasmed like that. He deserved the same.
With a banana as a stand-in.
“Did you—? Has the unbuttoning happened?”
She whacked her head against the back of the couch. Smooth. Then she wrapped her lips around the tip of the banana, worried the chocolate was starting to melt.
“Yes,” he said, his voice taking on a deep rasp that sent tingles to her core. “And what was that sound?”
Great. This was going to turn into a conversation about melting chocolate instead of what she’d planned. “Oh, I was just—” But then she paused.
Wait, Grace. Play the game. You’re in charge this time.
“I was just teasing you at the tip, seeing how you taste.”
He groaned softly, and she grinned at the sound.
She swirled her tongue around the frozen treat again and hummed with pleasure.
“You’re delicious, by the w
ay. In case you were wondering.”
She thought about where his hand was, if he was wet at the tip and what it would be like to actually take him into her mouth, the tang of him on her tongue. She squirmed where she sat but kept herself fully clothed. Even if she wanted to take care of herself along with Jeremy, she didn’t have a free hand. No, this was good. She would build herself up and teeter at the edge, keeping her focus on him.
“Jesus, Grace.”
She laughed. “Aw, come on. You gotta make me work a little harder before you say my name,” she teased. She was starting to relax now, enjoying herself. Maybe she didn’t have to think this through so hard. Maybe it was as easy as just going with what felt right.
“Fine,” he said, his voice a bit more in control. “Keep teasing me.”
She cleared her throat. “I can do that,” she said. “How about if I start at the base, letting my tongue run up your length from root to tip?”
He groaned again, and she was buoyed with encouragement.
“I’m using my hand now.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked.
“Uh-huh. Twisting it along the trail my tongue just left. I’m moving slowly, and you’re not sure what you want me to do next. Because slow is driving you crazy—in the best possible way. You want to tell me to speed up, to pump harder, but you know if I do…”
He hissed in a breath. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” She could hear the delicious ache in his voice. “Because fuck, Grace. You’re— I’m almost— Just keep going,” he pleaded.
So she did.
“I’m moving a little faster now, just enough to make you think I’m going to take you all the way there…but not yet. Because I haven’t gotten to the best part.”
“Tell me,” he said, and she couldn’t help her own tiny gasp, the ache in his words catching her off guard. “Tell me the best part.”
Suddenly she was scared, but it was no longer nerves. She wasn’t worried about whether or not she would be able to do for him what he did for her that first time. This was a different kind of fear—one that came with a knot in her throat and pressure in her chest, but she couldn’t form the thoughts or words to articulate why.
