by Mia Carson
“There’s my son,” Sally beamed and patted the open space beside her. “About time you came home. I was just entertaining your guest.”
“I see that.” He forced a smile as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned in the open door. “Having a bit to drink, are we?” Belle stuck her tongue at him, and all he could do was laugh.
“You should join us. We’re having quite the laugh,” Sally insisted.
“Let me grab a beer, and I’ll be back,” he told them and walked to the fridge, muttering under his breath. In the back of his mind, he realized it was a good thing Sally and Belle got on so well together. At the same time, he knew now that Sally would never let him live it down if he messed things up with Belle.
When he joined them outside and pulled over a chairs to the fire, he sipped his beer and studied Belle’s complexion, ruddy from the wine. The fire in her eyes sparked when their gazes met, and though he could tell she tried not to smile, one broke out on her face anyway. Even when she was pissed at him, she couldn’t help but be happy to see him. Just as he was happy to see she was still in his home.
“So, what are we talking about?” he asked.
“You, of course,” Sally chirped, and Greyson gulped a bit more beer than he intended. As he sputtered, his mom cackled. “See? Just like his dad, so easy to throw off balance.”
“Can we not bring him up right now?” Greyson asked stiffly.
Belle tugged her ear, watching him from across the fire. He hoped whatever question was on her mind, she’d wait to ask until Sally wasn’t around. Thankfully, she returned to sipping her wine, giggling a little as Sally whispered something to her.
“How much wine have you two had?”
Sally and Belle glanced around their feet, and the latter held up three fingers. “A few glasses each, is all.” She giggled again, and the sound warmed his heart as it had when he showed her into the gaming room.
“I see,” he growled. “And should you be drinking so much wine?”
“I’m fine. I haven’t taken any pain meds, and I’m feeling pretty good,” she assured him, waving away his worry with her hand. “Really, I feel great.”
“We were just talking about family and how important it is. Belle told me she only has one friend and doesn’t even talk to her foster parents anymore,” Sally said gently and rested her hand on Belle’s arm.
“Mom, she might not want to talk about that,” he said, knowing she had yet to open up to him about her past even though he was dying to ask. To his surprise, Belle shrugged. “You want to talk about it?”
She ran her fingers over the rim of her glass slowly—almost sensually—and Greyson fidgeted in his chair. “I never talk about it,” she said quietly, gazing into the fire. “Probably not too healthy, at least that’s what the therapists always said.”
“What happened, hon?” Sally asked gently.
“I don’t know. I guess that’s the worst part,” she lamented. “I wasn’t even told their names.”
“What do you know?” Greyson waited for her to shut down and yell at him, but either the wine relaxed her enough to let her tough exterior fall away or she was finally comfortable enough with him. Either way, he wasn’t going to argue his good fortune.
“I know they had to give me up, but after that, nothing.”
“You never tried to look into it?”
Her eyes flickered to his. “No, never wanted to. I figured it wasn’t worth my time trying to find them if I wasn’t worth their time to keep,” she slurred bitterly. “I moved on, let them stay in the past, and pushed forward. It was all I could do.”
But she was lying. Greyson saw the pain on her pinched face. She wanted to know who her parents were, just like any normal kid would want to. Silence fell over the three of them, and only the crackling of the fire kept up the conversation until Belle stood and stretched her arms over her head.
“I think that wine’s finally hitting me,” she teased and set her glass on the table nearby. “I'm going to turn in for the night. Thanks for keeping me company, Sally.”
“Anytime, hon,” Sally said sincerely and stood to hug her tightly. “Anytime.”
Greyson stood and walked her inside, closing the door quietly behind him to give them a moment of peace from his mom. “Belle, about earlier,” he said, but she grinned and shook her head.
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, alright? The wine’s making me feel all fuzzy,” she said and giggled.
“You sure you can make it to your room okay?” he asked and reached out to steady her arms. The moment his skin met hers, they froze, and a wave of intense heat and need washed over him. He maneuvered closer until her breasts brushed against his chest. He used his hands to gently push her wavy hair from her face so he could better see her icy blue eyes and her pupils dilating with arousal. “I know it doesn’t seem like it,” he whispered, “but God, do I want you.”
Her face went completely blank, and for a second, Greyson worried she’d pass out from the wine. A slow smile crossed her face, and she stood on her toes. “I know, but it’s complicated,” she whispered, brushed her lips delicately against his, turned and walked slowly, still giggling, to her bedroom.
He scratched his beard, confused by her behavior. He returned to the patio, leaving the door open behind him, and sat down beside his mom, grinning widely.
“What did you two talk about?” he asked her.
“Girl talk—nothing you need to worry about, but I’m warning you,” she added, holding up a finger as her tone turned serious, “if you let this girl slip away from you because of your stubbornness or fear or whatever, you’ll regret it.”
“I’m still figuring things out,” he insisted, but she shook her head.
“No, you always do. Since your daddy died, you’ve pushed people away.” She patted his thigh and leaned into his shoulder. “Eventually, you have to let someone in.”
“Can we please not talk about that man?”
“We need to, I’m afraid,” she pointed out. “It’s why I came by in the first place.”
Greyson groaned and stood, pacing around the fire as he rubbed the nape of his neck. “Mom, I really don’t want to get into this, alright? Not now.”
“His birthday is soon,” she continued despite his protests. “And you know I always visit his grave with your sisters. It would be nice if you would join us. I think he would like it, too. It could give you both some closure.”
“He’s dead,” Greyson snapped. “He can’t get anything.”
“No, but you can,” she argued and stood. “Please, Greyson. You haven’t been since we buried your father. It might do you some good.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not going,” he growled and stormed back into the house. Sally followed, and he puttered around the kitchen, grabbing another bottle of cold beer and prying off the cap as Sally tapped her fingers loudly on the counter, eyeing him. “What?”
“You are more like him than you realize,” she stated. “I just hope you don’t let your hard-headedness and worry consume you like he did.”
Greyson scoffed. “Dad never worried. He nagged and yelled and berated, but he never worried.”
“He worried about you all the time,” she insisted. “When you wanted to branch out on your own, he was scared—not that he would lose you as an asset to his company, but that you would pull away from the family entirely. That you wouldn’t need your dad anymore.”
He glared into his beer bottle intently, not meeting her gaze, but he felt it all the same.
“Your dad loved you, Greyson. I hope you know that.”
“The man could’ve shown it once in a while,” he mumbled.
Sally sighed and rubbed his arm. “Yeah, to you and me both, but that’s who he was. Come to visit his grave with us, please?”
He moved away and shook his head. “Sorry, Mom, I can’t.”
Her face screwed up in annoyance, and she stiffened. “Fine, if you want to turn out like the
man you thought he was, just like the man you think you hate, then fine,” she scolded. “One day, you’ll look back and wish you would’ve gone with us, wish you would’ve said a proper goodbye.” She stormed to the table and snatched up her purse.
“Mom, wait,” he said, but she ignored him and continued towards the door. “I’ll think about it, alright?”
She paused, her hand on the door, and the look in her eyes made him pause. “I love you, Greyson, but sometimes, you think too much.” She patted his cheek and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Greyson planted his fist on the heavy wood and considered his mom’s parting words. He knew she was right—she usually was—but that didn’t mean he had to like it. His dad never showed him any sort of compassion or support when he decided to take a different path, and visiting his grave would indicate that Greyson accepted everything his dad put him through. Except he didn’t. Far from it. His dad screwed him up in many ways.
Stalking through the house and nursing a beer, he went into the gaming room for the specially made mouse and moved it to where Belle’s laptop rested. He was sure she’d want to get back to work in the morning. Maybe he’d make a move tomorrow. Their relationship was complicated, and not because of some great gap between them but because of him and his issues. She protected her heart because of never having anyone to love, but with him, she was willing to let down those walls and take a chance. Why couldn’t he do the same?
He stepped outside to watch the fire die down as thoughts of Belle drifted through his mind, of what she might do if he went to her right now, slid back the covers gently, and kissed her sweetly. If he continued the kiss from earlier and finish what he’d started.
Everyone leaves you in the end, the voice nagged in his mind. Or do you simply push everyone away?
As the fire died completely, Greyson let his worries and doubts go with the dying embers. Tomorrow was a new day, and he was not going to let Belle slip away because of him. He'd said he was her boyfriend when the accident happened, and that’s exactly who he was going to be.
Chapter 4
Over the next few days, Belle watched Greyson go from being the timid man she had moved in with back to the predatory boss she’d met that first day of work. She had no idea what brought about the change—whether their fight or whatever he’d talked to his mom about—but she was not complaining.
In fact, she was barely able to sit in a room with him for more than a few minutes before he pulled her into his lap just to hold her close against the hard planes of his chest. She was used to being held as she worked, talking to him quietly as he watched her mouse dart across the screen. At one point, she broke down and let him tweak a few details, which made all the difference. Belle finally had a boyfriend, albeit an overbearing and, at times, arrogant, know-it-all boyfriend, but the hands-off policy was gone.
On such an afternoon, while she sat in the living room trying to work on three projects at once, Greyson stalked towards her. She smiled, though she tried to be serious.
“Wait, I have too much work to do today,” she said and held up her hand—the one with the broken wrist. He frowned and took it gently, kissing her fingertips before sitting down beside her.
“That’s a pity. I was hoping to start a new game soon.”
“Which one?” she asked, unable to keep her excitement from bubbling up.
He grinned wolfishly at her. “A new one… like the one we’re beta testing right now. Tim’s getting everything set up. Mind you, it’s not the whole game, just bits here and there to see what’s working. I was going to head into the office.”
“Your e-mails!” she yelped and jumped off the couch, rushing to the second laptop he gave her. A few days ago, she found out he was paying her for every day since the accident, even if she wasn’t working. There’d been a small argument about it until he finally agreed to let her do some work for him again until she could return to full-time duty. She was fairly certain she could return to work sooner, but he kept telling her she needed to rest. It was probably a good idea for her to be off pain meds first, but he was stalling. Part of her secretly enjoyed him wanting to keep her at home longer with him; the other part was simply annoyed he wouldn’t let her go back to full-time. “I completely forgot to check them!”
His deep, throaty chuckle caught her off-guard as she booted up the second laptop and sat down at the kitchen table. “It’s fine, just take a breath.”
“I can’t. Those three projects are due at the end of the week, and I’m still so far behind on them.”
“Didn’t you tell your professors you were in an accident?”
Her shoulders hunched over the laptop, and she avoided the annoyed glare she felt burning into her back as he watched her.
“Belle, did you not tell anyone on campus what happened to you?”
“I told Carrie,” she replied quietly.
“You should’ve told your professors about the accident. They would have given you more time.”
She whipped around, her lips screwed to the side as she shook her head. “Then I would have an unfair advantage over all the other students. I’m fine. I’ll manage.”
“Not when you have to do your other work for me, too. Stop checking e-mails. I knew this was a bad idea,” he grumbled and clicked the laptop shut in her face. “Go back to your classwork.”
Her mouth hanging open, she shifted her glare to him. “You can’t stop me from working, too. Get your hand off the laptop.”
He leaned down, and her belly pooled with sudden want. “No,” he growled, and the want flared into full out annoyance. “Go do your work for class. I got this.”
“I said I can handle both. Move your damn hand.” She tried shoving it away, but he wouldn’t budge and she was limited to using her uninjured wrist. “Greyson, seriously. I’m fine.”
“Clearly you’re not when you’re panicking over e-mails,” he retorted hotly.
“It’s just going to mean a few sleepless nights. Nothing I haven’t done before,” she said, but it was the wrong thing to say. His hand moved away, and he whipped out his cell phone before striding away. “What are you doing?” she asked loudly, but he held up his hand towards her.
“Yes, is this Arizona State University? Hi, this is Greyson Taylor… yes, that Greyson Taylor,” he replied with a grin, but Belle wasn’t laughing. She jumped up from her chair and charged at him, but all he had to do was keep his arm with the cell out of her reach. He laughed when she hopped up, trying to snatch it, and he simply stood on his toes.
“Damn it, what are you doing?” she snapped.
“Yes, I have one of your students working for me at the moment. Her name is Belle Hall. If you could please let her professors know that she’s been in a terrible car accident? She’s alright, but she was injured… Yes, terrible. I’d be so grateful if you could let them know on her behalf… Of course. Yes, please send her an e-mail to verify… She’s stubborn, I guess. What can I say?” He stared her down with his dark brown eyes as he said the last bit, and Belle’s body couldn’t decide how to react with that smoldering gaze on her.
Her toes curled, and she wanted to jump his bones for what he was doing for her, knowing that look would lead to heated kisses. The idea of his bare palms holding her breasts sent chills down her spine. On the other hand, she wanted to haul off and smack him for taking over her life like that. It was the price of having Greyson Taylor actually act like her boyfriend for a change.
“Yes, thank you, I appreciate it…” he said as he finished his call. “You too.” He hung up and tucked his cell into his back pocket, breaking the trance Belle was under.
“What did you just do?” she asked with a scowl.
“Check your e-mail later today,” he said with a smug grin as he crossed his muscled arms over his chest and stared her down, toe to toe. “They said to expect messages from your professors. Something about a policy allowing students extra time for suffering grievous injuries. All you have to do is send them
the doctor’s note, which I know you received.”
She withered under his glare. She had been given one and was told to take it to her professors, but she never did. It was tucked away in her room, but the doctor had sent her an electronic copy as well.
“I’m fine. You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered, hating and loving that he cared so much.
“Yes, I did, especially when my girlfriend is a workaholic ready to drive herself to an early grave,” he said. “You’re injured. You’re not cheating and you’re not faking to give yourself more time. They’re online classes, for God’s sake. The other students won’t even know.”
“I’ll know,” she said and threw her arms up. “I’ll know that I wasn’t able to do it on time.”
“You have a valid reason,” he argued and motioned angrily towards her broken wrist. “Car accident, remember? You could’ve been killed and you’re worried about your stupid class work and answering e-mails!”
“What else am I going to do? Be pampered by my boyfriend who, only a few days ago, actually started acting like one?” she fired back.
He ground his teeth and moved closer until there was no space between them. “I was being cautious. Forgive me for not wanting to be a brute!”
“You are a brute,” she said, her hands on her hips as she held his glare with her own. “That’s who you are. Look what you just did!”
“So you want me to be a brute or you don’t?” he argued. “Make up your mind!”
“You make up yours! You still can’t decide if you want this to go anywhere!” Belle stood her ground as their chests heaved in unison as, once again, they fought over nothing. She had no idea why they did it, but he infuriated her with his back-and-forth, roller coaster of emotions.
“If my girlfriend would actually let people do things for her, maybe this wouldn’t be so hard,” he grumbled, his voice strained as want filled his eyes, warring with his annoyance at her. “Maybe if she accepted what I was trying to do for her instead of fighting me tooth and nail!”
