Grinder (Seattle Sharks Book 1)

by Samantha Whiskey

  “I know you two are used to this kind of thing,” I continued. “Fitting back into this lifestyle has been an adjustment.” My family had always had money, and if I wanted to live off a trust fund I could, but I didn’t. I wanted to earn my way, and my life, I just had to figure out what the hell to do with it first.

  “Please,” Jeannine said. “You fit here. Just like I think you’d fit with Gage. There is something there.”

  I shook my head, not that I hadn’t fantasized about what it would be like if we’d crossed the lines we never had as kids. “You’re sensing history, not chemistry. We’ve known each other since kindergarten.”

  “I have an excellent heat-sensor and there are definitely sparks between you two.” Jeannine got up and refilled our drinks faster than we could drink them. “You should act on it.”

  “What about Paige?” I motioned my glass toward her and earned a good glare for it.

  Jeannine smiled at her. “Yes, we need to work on her too.”

  “Thanks,” Paige said. “I’m totally fine with my life.”

  “Nope,” Jeannine shook her head. “You’re not. Think about it, you’re about to take over your father’s position in the most uptight, moral company in the US and Bailey over here is playing house with a man she doesn’t get to fuck. Y’all need to make a list of everything you want to do before you’re too old to do it.”

  “I’m only twenty-six!” I shouted but giggled at the same time. The margaritas were working wonderfully, turning stress and tension into fuzzy words I didn’t care about at the moment. “I’ve got time---“

  “Fine, but Paige doesn’t.”

  “Wonderful.” Paige raised her glass. “Here’s to you as Jeannine puts me out to pasture.”

  Jeannine pursed her lips at her. “Not what I meant. You’ve got a handful of months before you’re under the microscope for the company. The morality clause and all that. We need to make you a list, a dirty girl bucket list and you need to accomplish every task before you take over the company.” She opened a few drawers of the desk until she dug out a blank notebook and pen. “We’ll make Bailey one too.”

  “Not scheduled to take over any fortune five hundred companies anytime soon, but thanks,” I said and finished the rest of my drink.

  “I’m not doing any list,” Paige said firmly but I could see a small glint of hope in her eyes. Looked like she was craving a taste of the forbidden as bad as I was.

  “Sure you are, and the first thing on it will be to sleep with Rory Jackson.” Jeannine quickly wrote the task down.

  Paige spit half her drink back into her glass and my mouth dropped.

  “You have a crush on the enforcer for the Sharks?” I asked, shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rory was one of Gage’s best friends, it wasn’t like I didn’t have access to him.

  Paige’s cheeks flushed as red as her hair. “It’s a fantasy for God’s sake! I don’t actually want to sleep with the man.”

  “Of course you do,” Jeannine said.

  “If that’s the case,” I said, standing up and opening my bedroom door, “you know he’s playing poker with the rest of the boys upstairs, right? Now is your chance.”

  Paige’s eyes widened and she scoffed. “I will if you will.”

  My hand gripped the doorknob a bit tighter.

  What if I did? What if I acted on the deep ache that begged me to touch Gage any time he was within ten feet of me? To trace the cut lines of his muscles with my tongue. The scene flashed behind my eyes, his lips on my skin, his body flush with mine…

  I shut the door, the mere fact I was entertaining the thought was enough to cool the fire pulsing inside me. Damn margaritas.

  “Didn’t think so.” Paige grinned triumphantly at me.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not employed by Rory Jackson and neither are you. You could do anything you wanted if you simply chose it.”

  Paige swallowed her response and poured her and myself another glass.

  “All right so far I’ve got: Fuck Rory Jackson, Have sex in public, and make a sex tape, on Paige’s list. What else?” She bit the end of the pen she held before her eyes lit up. “Kiss a woman!” She laughed so hard each of us joined in.

  “Might as well throw in Have a threesome for good measure,” Paige said, shaking her head.

  Jeannine quickly nodded and jotted the task down. I laughed so hard my sides ached. The sensation felt wonderful, clearing out the icky negative trend I’d received from the puck-bunny-parade I’d been privy to the past six months. These were my girls and they understood me, built me up, and made me relax all at the same time. I’d never been happier that we’d all taken up yoga at the same time four years ago, and that the pair had instantly welcomed me into a friendship they’d had as long as Gage’s and mine.

  “Perfect.” Jeannine handed Paige the list, which looked to have nearly ten dirty tasks on it. “Get to work.”

  Paige chuckled and shoved the paper in her bag resting on the floor. “I’ll get right on that, boss.”

  “Bailey’s up,” Jeannine said, the pen on a fresh piece of paper. “Should I even list Gage or is that a given?”

  “No,” I said, raising my hands in defense. “If I have to have a list, then figuring out what the hell I want would be number one. It’s pointless.”

  She tilted her head at me. “You know what you want.”

  “No, I don’t.” I pointed at the two of them. “You two do. You’ve got it all figured out. Paige is going to take her father’s company to the next level and you’re going to earn another Michelin star in the next year…me? I…” I didn’t have a fucking clue. “I have a Masters in Philosophy, and I love my art and sure, I’d love to run a gallery someday, but…”

  “You’re a Mom,” Paige said.

  I scrunched my eyebrows. “No, I love Lettie, but I’ll never be her mother.” The reality of that fact stung more than it should and I rubbed at the spot on my chest like I could soothe it. Maybe the liquor was making me overly emotional as well as daringly adventurous.

  Paige shook her head. “No, I meant you’re a Mom. You’ve always wanted a boatload of kids. You’re a brilliant artist—we’ve both told you that—and you know I’m willing to buy pieces for any of my charity events, but you know what you want, Bailey.”

  She was right. It was something I wanted. A houseful of kids, a full, busy life where I taught them how to ride bikes, paint, and to share. Where I had a partner who would love the chaotic household just as much as me, and make a point to keep our bedroom life as equally hopping.

  Gage’s face flashed behind my eyes. I had no doubt he could keep up with and exceed my expectations on any list I ever created if I chose to do so.

  “All right,” Jeannine said, scribbling on the blank piece of paper and tearing it off.

  I took it from her outstretched hand and read it.

  Bailey’s List.

  1) Find a gallery, take it over and run it

  2) Find a good man, screw him, and have lots of babies

  I chuckled and gulped another mouthful of the sour-salty mixture.

  “You’ll make a great one someday, you know that?” Jeannine asked. “The way you are with Lettie…well, it’s enough to make me want kids.”

  Paige and I both raised our eyebrows at her, shocked those words came out of her mouth

  “Almost,” she quickly added.

  “What about your list?” I asked.

  “Girl, you know I’ve already got one. Several actually. I’ve worked on them for a couple years now.”

  Paige straightened. “Can we see?”

  “I don’t carry them around with me.” Jeannine chuckled and shifted in her seat. “And it has things on it I’m sure neither of you would agree with or be down for, the sissies that you are.”

  I dropped my hand in mock shock at her playful jab. “We can’t all be as daring as you.”

  “Such is life,” she said and winked at us.

  “Now, about introducing Paige t
o Rory…”

  “Oh please, no. I’m not properly prepared to meet him.” Paige smoothed out her immaculate white blouse, having come over straight from the office.

  I snorted, glancing down at my purple yoga pants and black t-shirt combo. I’d worn even scrubbier clothes around Gage too and never batted an eye. He’d known me when I went through the phase where I sported overalls and a side-pony-tail every day.

  “Come on,” I said, standing up and opening my bedroom door. “I should probably check and make sure they have plenty of food still anyway.”

  Jeannine wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “For someone who isn’t married, you sure act like one hell of a wife.”

  I swallowed hard, convincing myself I was simply great at my job. Sure, I wasn’t Gage’s maid—not that I hadn’t thought about buying a little sexy outfit and making his morning eggs in it just to see if he’d cross the line I desperately wanted him to—but it didn’t mean I couldn’t make sure his life functioned as easy as it possibly could while I was here. Being a single parent was hard enough, add to it his NHL status, and the bad-boy-trio he was apart of that the paparazzi loved to snap shots of at the clubs? It was a recipe for stress upon stress. Anything I could do to relieve that was well worth it. Lettie deserved him at his best…and maybe I just liked being the one to take care of him.

  A red-hot image of just how well I could relieve his stress—one with him lying back on the bed and me on my knees below him, exploring him with my mouth in ways I only ever thought about in the cold sheets at night—flashed behind my eyes. I tilted slightly while walking, making a mental note to chug some water to take the edge off this buzz. Lettie would be up at six a.m. tomorrow and I didn’t want to be tempted to murder Jeannine for the hangover that was almost surely promised.

  Hangovers and early morning cartoons didn’t mix.

  Jeannine tugged Paige down the hallway and up the stairs, only managing to get her into the kitchen where she took up a firm seat at the island and refused to go any farther.

  “I’ll wait while you check the snack levels, thank you very much,” Paige said, jutting her chin out. There was no arguing with her, the woman turned billionaires into weeping puddles when they tried to force a deal on her she didn’t want. Jeannine and I didn’t stand a chance.

  “Suit yourself,” I said and lowered my voice while Jeannine checked out the fridge. “But you know she’ll never let that list go. She’s like a dog with a bone.”

  “I can hear you,” Jeannine said, riffling through our produce drawer.

  “A very pretty and talented dog!” I yelled and padded barefoot across the marble floor, taking a sharp right down the hallway that lead to Gage’s game room…

  And ran straight into his hard chest.

  The momentum nearly threw me back on my ass, but he quickly steadied me with two strong hands on my hips.

  “I was just coming to check on you,” I said, slightly breathless, like the physical contact sucked the air right out of my lungs. Why couldn’t I breathe when his hands were on me?

  “Funny,” he said, releasing me. “I was about to do the same.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him.

  “And to make sure we weren’t being too loud…for Lettie.” He quickly added.

  “You’re fine. For a bunch of Sharks you’re all very tame,” I said and my cheeks flushed. Damn margaritas made my tongue want to say—and do—naughty things.

  “Oh, if you think I’m tame you’d be in for a real surprise,” he joked and the innuendo sent heat through my blood. The hallway seemed too small and dark suddenly and was filled with his scent—a crisp, sharp soap and salt smell that I loved catching whiffs of all throughout the house.

  He gazed down at me with those blue eyes of his and my panties may as well evaporated. All it’d take would be one move from him, one hint, and I wouldn’t be able to resist him—because I didn’t want to.

  “Really?” I asked, stepping closer to him. “You know how much I love surprises.”

  He seemed content to stare down at me, waging some internal battle I couldn’t decipher, and didn’t wait to. Fueled by margaritas and the dirty girl bucket lists Jeannine had assembled, I put my hand on his hard chest, lightly tracing the ridges of his muscles with my fingers.

  I wanted to know what his skin felt like, tasted like.

  Hell, I wanted to know how well he’d fill me.

  When he didn’t stop my wandering fingers, I pressed up on my tiptoes, leaning into him, my lips a breath away from his mouth that I thought about on a near-constant basis. He sucked in a sharp breath as he grabbed my hips, those long, talented fingers of his digging into my curves. I closed my eyes, my heart racing. I was beyond ready to taste Gage after all this time of want.

  He gently pushed me backward, away from his glorious mouth, and the body I’d drooled over for months.

  Heat flushed my skin and the rejection wilted my racing heart, but I didn’t lose his gaze.

  “I can’t—”

  He what? Humiliation washed over me, heat stinging my cheeks.

  “Of course,” I cut him off, not needing to hear his reasoning because it would hurt too damned much.

  After all, the man gave away sex like free samples at a department store. He just didn’t want to give it to me.

  I pushed away from him, stumbling slightly, but avoiding his hands as he tried to steady me. “No. I’d hate for you to have to touch me.”

  “Bailey…”

  “No,” I said, backing down the hall. “No need to explain. I got the message loud and clear, boss.” I tucked tail and ran back to the girls, and the copious amounts of alcohol I was going to need to forget this.

  Chapter 5

  Gage

  I pulled the bottle of Tylenol out of the cabinet and cursed myself for the thousandth time. She’d been right there, her mouth inches from mine, looking at me with those soft, hazel eyes, and I’d rejected her.

  I was either a saint or the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.

  My dick was arguing the latter.

  “Daddy, I think Bailey is up!” Lettie whispered so loudly that I heard her across the kitchen.

  “It sounds like it,” I whispered back just as loudly. The microwave clock read ten-thirty. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time Bailey had slept in. It sure as hell hadn’t been since she moved in with us. She needed a morning. Hell, after last night she needed a week full of mornings.

  I slid a glass of water across the bar as Bailey walked in, her little bare feet padding along the hardwood. Even her painted toes were somehow sexy.

  “Morning,” I said softly, motioning to my peace offering, as shitty as it was.

  “Thank you,” she answered in the same tone, popping two of the small pills and taking half the glass of water with them.

  “Good morning, Bailey!” Lettie shrieked in glee.

  I winced at the same time Bailey did. I’d quit drinking when she’d been born, knowing that I needed to be at my best for my daughter at all times, but it wasn’t like I didn’t remember being hungover. College was a bitch.

  “Hey, Lettie,” Bailey said, dropping down to hug her. Her eyes held no censure for the volume of her voice, just open acceptance and a profound love that was echoed in my daughter’s eyes.

  Lettie kissed Bailey’s cheek and then ran back to her spread of art supplies on the table.

  Bailey stood and downed the rest of the water before coming around the island to pour a cup of coffee, her motions stiff. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. Cue awkwardness.

  “So, about last night,” I said, ready to just bite the bullet.

  “What do you have planned for the day?” she asked, changing the subject as the keurig hissed to life.

  “Bailey—”

  “No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. Her brown mass of hair tumbled with the movement.

  Tension clung to the moment, tightening my chest in a way I’d almost forgotten. How long had it been sin
ce I’d really cared what a woman had thought? Felt? I waited, fighting my basic need to spin her around and demand she talk to me.

  Finally, she turned, holding her mug close to her face and looking up at me from under long, thick lashes that framed incredible eyes. “Look. I don’t want to talk about it,” she said quietly, her eyes darting to where Lettie sat.

  “I don’t see how that’s an option.”

  She shrugged. “Pretty easy. We agree to never speak of it. Kind of like Fight Club.”

  A corner of my mouth tilted into a smile. “Isn’t another rule of Fight Club no shirts?”

  Her cheeks flushed and I nearly kicked myself. “Right, well, that won’t be a problem.”

  “It’s just that with Lettie—”

  She put her fingers over my lips to silence me and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to suck the digits into my mouth just to see how her skin tasted. “No, you don’t need to explain. I was in the wrong, and it won’t happen again.”

  She slowly lowered her hand from my mouth.

  My forehead puckered. Never? Wait, wasn’t that what I wanted? I couldn’t kiss her, touch her, taste her like I wanted. Not when there was Lettie to think of. What if shit went south and I lost my nanny? Lettie lost her best friend?

  “I think it merits a discussion,” I said my voice above the whisper we had been using.

  “Well, I don’t!” she snapped then winced, her free hand flying to her temple. “Ugh. What was I thinking?”

  “That you deserve a chance to let loose every once in awhile.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t see you letting loose with the tequila.”

  “I have other vices.”

  She snorted, the sound oddly endearing. “Yeah, I know all about those.”

  “Yeah, you’ve had a front row seat, which is why—”

  “Just stop,” she pled. The sadness in her eyes halted me like nothing else could have.

  “Bailey.”

  “No. It was humiliating enough without you having to rehash the whole incident. Could you please drop it and let me keep whatever’s left of my dignity intact?”