by A. D. Ryan
“Yeah?” Katie inquires, moving closer to me and resting her hip against the counter, her back turned on the till.
“He’s just so…” Suddenly, the door to the café opens, and I see a very familiar face. “Greyston.”
Katie giggles. “What is that? Some kind of code?” She bats her eyes. “He’s just so…Greyston.”
Using my towel, I swat her arm and move around her to the till to greet our newest customer. “Greyston, what are you doing here?”
That crooked smile appears, and my stomach does a little flip-flop before I tell it to calm the hell down. “Well, I was headed to my first appointment and decided to stop and pick up coffee for the guy I’m meeting.” I stare blankly into his beautiful blue eyes. “And I heard you sell coffee here.”
“Coffee,” I repeat, finally hearing him and snapping out of my daze. “Yeah, we sell coffee.”
As I’m waiting for Greyston to order, I feel Katie’s presence before her arm brushes against mine. “Hi,” she says, sweetness lacing her already soft voice. “I’m Katie. You must be Juliette’s new landlord. She didn’t tell me you were so—” Trying to keep my upper body still, I kick the side of her leg. “Tall. You’re very tall.”
“So, what can I get for you?” I ask, hoping that he didn’t hear me implying that he was gorgeous only moments ago.
Looking at the menu above our heads, he hems and haws for a few seconds. “Two double espressos, please, and maybe a couple of blueberry muffins, too.”
I ring in his order and put the cash in the till before making his coffee. While I prepare his drinks, I can overhear Katie striking up a conversation with him.
“So, Juliette says you’re some kind of big-shot in the sports industry,” she begins.
“Did she, now? Well, I suppose she’s right; I scout up-and-coming talent to represent,” he explains.
“Here you go,” I announce, placing his drinks and the bag of muffins on the counter.
He flashes me that killer smile again, and my cheeks warm. “Thanks, Juliette. I’ll see you back at home later.”
“I’ll be there,” I promise.
Before exiting the café, Greyston turns back to me. “Oh, and don’t worry about picking anything up for dinner. I’ll figure something out.”
The minute he leaves, Katie grabs my arm and whips me around to face her. “Oh. My. God! He’s delicious!”
The rest of our shift flies, and by five, Paul has shown up. Before we go, we tidy up and restock all of the supplies so Paul doesn’t have to, then Katie and I walk out to our vehicles together and say our goodbyes before taking off.
It’s another scorcher out, so before leaving the lot, I roll down both windows. The fact that I have to practically lay across the seat and manually crank the lever to get the passenger side down is kind of annoying. I absolutely adore my little car, but I’ll admit that the luxury of power windows and door locks definitely sounds appealing.
I twist my hair up, securing it with a pen from my purse, and start my car. The sweltering heat makes me happy to be living in a house with a pool, and I begin to imagine weekends relaxing on a lounge chair and swimming to beat the extreme summer heat. Not to mention, studying by the pool with the beautiful desert view would be so peaceful.
On my way home—it’s still pretty amazing to be able to say that—I start to wonder if Greyston would be opposed to my having my parents over. I’d like to show them the house, maybe further setting my father’s mind at ease. If he’s okay with it, I think I’ll plan something for next weekend, once I’m all unpacked and settled.
After parking my car in my brand new driveway, I grab my purse and head inside. Before going in search of Greyston, I head upstairs to my room to shower quickly and change into something that doesn’t smell like the café.
Stepping into my private bathroom, I turn on the shower and brush my hair out before undressing and stepping under the delightfully cool spray of water. The water streaming down over my body is so relaxing, off-setting the sizzling heat of the late-afternoon sun, that I find myself not wanting to get out.
Opening the glass door, I grab the dark blue towel from the hook and wrap it around my body. Instead of being cooler, the air is actually a bit warmer as I step out of the shower stall and head to my closet to look through my clothes I decide on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a tank top.
I remove my towel, hanging it on my closet doorknob for a moment while I dress. My shorts are definitely that—short—but I’m roasting, so the fact that they barely cover my butt and show the lower bit of my front pockets doesn’t concern me too much. I’ll just have to refrain from bending over.
Even though my wet hair feels nice and cool against my warming back, I know I’ll need to tie it up before it becomes an issue. I grab an elastic off my dresser and fasten a messy top knot on the top of my head.
Feeling refreshed, I make my way out of my room and down the stairs. When I reach the landing, I can hear Greyston’s voice coming from the kitchen. I assume he’s on the phone again…until I hear a melodious female laugh.
While earlier I was mostly curious to meet Callie, I’m feeling kind of bummed out now. The closer I get to the kitchen, the more I hear of their conversation. They seem to have a really solid relationship, and I start to feel like I might be intruding if I go in there and interrupt them. My stomach rudely insists I keep moving forward, though.
“No! Are you serious?” the woman says with a giggle.
As I round the corner, I catch sight of her on one of the island stools, looking at Greyston as he stirs something on the stovetop. Even though I can only see a portion of her facial profile, I can tell I was exactly right about her being gorgeous. She’s got creamy white and flawless skin, and her auburn hair hangs loose down her back, grazing the waist of her jeans. Even though she’s seated, I can tell she’s got the perfect hourglass figure.
Greyston chuckles, not turning to look at her, and I continue to go unnoticed. “I swear on my life, Callie. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I really can’t explain it; you’ll just have to take my word for it.”
She shakes her head, the ends of her soft-looking hair flowing from the movement. “Well, if that’s the case, then you should go for it. You know I only want what’s best for you.”
That’s when he turns to offer her a smile, but before he locks eyes with her, he finds me standing in the doorway. “Hey,” he says, sounding surprised. “I didn’t hear you come downstairs.”
“I’m pretty stealthy,” I quip playfully before realizing his girlfriend might misconstrue it for shameless flirting and think I’m a hussy.
Callie turns on her chair, and her blue eyes are crystal clear and shining with happiness. “Hi,” she greets, hopping off the stool. “You must be Greyston’s new tenant. Juliette, right?”
I nod, my face warming a little. “I am. You’re Callie?”
“Ah,” she says, glancing back over her shoulder at Greyston. “So, he’s spoken of me.”
“Highly,” I reply, even though he’s only just mentioned her. I figure it’s probably best that she thinks he speaks of his perfect relationship whenever he can…actually, I wonder why he doesn’t.
I try not to dwell on it and shake Callie’s hand. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”
“Same here.”
I notice that Greyston has gone back to busily stirring the meal he’s preparing. “I actually didn’t mean to interrupt the two of you; I just wanted to grab something to tide me over until dinner.” I move toward the fridge and open it up, looking for some fruit or something.
I bend over and start pushing things aside in my search for food. A clang of metal, followed by Greyston’s whispered curse and Callie’s delicate giggle allude to something happening. Glancing up, I see him looking down into the deep pot, his brow furrowed with frustration. With a sigh, he opens the drawer next to him and grabs a spaghetti fork, dunking it into the deep pot and fishing out a long, sauce-co
vered spoon.
Callie laughs again, drawing my focus to her. I assume I’ve missed some silent communication between the two of them, but when I see her flipping through the pages of a magazine, still snickering, I realize she must have read a funny article or something. My stomach rumbles again, so I resume my search for food, opening the fruit drawer to find some strawberries. Being allergic, I decide I don’t feel like getting a raging case of hives and close the fridge.
“There’s…uh…some protein bars in the cupboard here,” Greyston offers, his voice rough as he opens the door next to his head. “Up on the middle shelf.”
“Thanks,” I say, standing on the tips of my toes and stretching for the slender box.
Another clang of metal is heard, but when I look to my left, I see that Greyston still has hold of his spoon. His face looks a little flushed, though; maybe he’s coming down with something.
“How was work?” Greyston asks, his voice a little more steady now as I close the cupboard.
“Busy. I’m glad I didn’t have to work the evening rush,” I admit. “Anyway, I’ll leave you guys to talk. I can imagine being away as much as Greyston is you like to be together as much as possible.”
Both of them turn to look at me, eyes wide like I was in the process of sprouting a second head. “What?”
“Uh, nothing,” Greyston stammers. I don’t know when he became so nervous, but, it’s a nice change of pace; I can’t constantly be the one tripping over my own words.
Callie closes her magazine. “No need to go anywhere. We’re not that desperate to be alone with each other,” she jokes…or is she joking? It’s kind of hard to tell.
“I’ve got homework,” I tell them.
Smiling, Callie rolls her beautiful green eyes. “Greyston here tells me you’re, like, some kind of genius or something. Plus, it’s Saturday night; don’t you have a party or something to go to?”
I clear my throat. “I’m not really the party-going type,” I admit.
“Well, how am I supposed to live vicariously through you, then?” Her mock-pout makes me laugh.
“Trust me; my life is nothing to be coveted.”
Patting the stool next to her, Callie invites me over with a sideways nod of her head. “Come on, join us. Greyston’s kind of a bore.”
“You’re one to talk,” Greyston retorts.
Their relationship confuses me; shouldn’t they be a little more snuggly and a little less like brother and sister?
I need to take my mind off of that, so I decide to learn a little more about the woman in Greyston’s life. “So,” I begin, “how long have you and Greyston known each other?”
Looking contemplative, Callie looks at Greyston. “Gee, what’s it been? Six years?”
“Yeah, about six years. Sometimes I wonder how we’ve survived all this time.”
What an odd thing to say.
“Keep making wise-ass comments like that, and I’ll be sure to remedy it,” she teases.
Something’s amiss here, but I’m not quite sure what. Is it possible that after so many years together, the romance fizzles and you become a pair of bantering old hens?
Of course, if that’s true, explain my horn-dog parents. I know I sure don’t want to.
“Okay, you know what?” Callie proclaims, slapping her hands on the counter and standing up. “As much fun as this little visit has been, I need to head home.”
My eyes snap to hers. “You’re not staying?”
Callie winks at me. “And eat his cooking? I think I’ll pass. Greyston?” He looks back to acknowledge her. “Don’t forget to finalize your itinerary. You don’t want to get caught in a room with another single. Toby won’t stand for it.”
Toby?
“Shit, don’t remind me. He wouldn’t let up that whole trip. I thought for sure he was going to ride my ass because of it the entire weekend.” Greyston’s eyes snap wide open, meeting my own bewildered expression. “That didn’t come out right.”
“Is that what Toby said?” Callie asks in a coy voice.
My cheeks are burning, and I can only imagine how red my face is. I know I should probably go, but something is keeping me here. Morbid curiosity, most likely.
“Weren’t you leaving?” I can tell by the playful edge in Greyston’s voice that he’s not angry.
“Thankfully, yes,” she replies. “Remember. Itinerary. ASAP.”
“Holy hell, Callie.” Greyston sounds kind of exasperated. “You keep bossing me around like that and people are going to think we’re dating.”
My entire body goes rigid, and my head jolts up. Looking between the two of them, my eyes wild with confusion, I let the final piece of this puzzle fall into place. “You’re not dating?” I ask.
Both of them are quiet for a moment, acknowledging each other and then me before practically doubling over in laughter.
“N-no,” Callie stammers between giggles. When she’s finally got a handle on her laughter, she continues. “I’m his assistant. While Greyston is very sweet and caring, I’m not his type.”
This seems odd to me, because to look at her, she’s exactly the type of woman I can picture him with. In fact, I did up until thirty seconds ago. Then it hits me.
Not his type.
Toby.
Riding hard.
Holy crap.
Chapter 10
No, I tell myself. If I was able to jump to the wrong conclusions regarding Greyston and Callie, then there is a very real possibility that I’m doing the same thing now.
Or…am I? He’s polite, a good cook, his house is immaculate and well-decorated, and he dresses great. I suppose it wouldn’t be too unbelievable.
Callie says goodbye, and I think I answer her, but I’ve got so many things rushing through my poor, overworked brain that I really can’t be sure.
Did she say something about Greyston booking a trip?
“Juliette?”
Taking a breath, I raise my gaze from the countertop, my blurred vision clearing the minute I lock eyes with Greyston. “Hmm?”
“You all right?” Turning the burner on the stovetop off, he crosses the kitchen and leans on the counter, facing me. “You seem, I don’t quite know…off?”
I smile, deciding that I don’t think I know him quite well enough yet to blatantly question his sexuality. Plus, I’m probably wrong. “I’m fine.”
Greyston smiles widely, pushing himself up off the counter and clapping his hands together. “You hungry?” His eyes fall to my still-wrapped protein bar, and he snickers.
“Starved, actually,” I confess.
Greyston heads to the cupboard, grabs two plates, and dishes up whatever he was working on. When he sets them down on the island counter where I’m sitting, I notice he’s made spaghetti.
He takes the seat next to me and hands me a fork while I look down at my dinner, inhaling deeply. “This looks amazing,” I say, picking up my fork and twirling some of the pasta around the tines. After taking my first bite, I look at Greyston. “So, you’re going on a trip soon?”
He nods. “There’s this baseball player in Houston that the agency has had its eye on for a few months. He’s young and could do well under the right representation.”
I say nothing. Do nothing.
He reaches out, grazing the skin on the outside of my knee before quickly drawing back as though the contact was out of line in some way. The fire of his touch still lingers, and I find myself wanting him to do it again. “I know you’re still getting settled, and I honestly didn’t think I’d be leaving this soon. I was hoping this trip would wait another couple weeks, but if we don’t get him now, someone else will.”
“I understand.” I don’t, really—he may as well be speaking another language—but it’s his job, and I know he has to do it to pay the bills. “Maybe I can invite Daphne over?”
“I told you that you don’t have to ask, Juliette,” Greyston reminds me with a grin. “This is your home now, too. Invite whomever you want.”
“Tuesday,” he replies, returning to his own plate. “Come on, let’s eat before our dinner gets c—”
Greyston doesn’t get a chance to finish when we hear the front door open, and a deep male voice calls out, “Honey, I’m here!”
I wonder if I should be reading into that statement. Do I say something? Leave it alone? Something tells me to leave it alone—that it’ll work itself out, or I’ll at least be given the right opening to inquire further. I know if I assume anything out loud, I run the risk of making a fool out of myself. No, it’s definitely best to stay quiet.
I think.
Our company’s footsteps grow louder as he approaches the kitchen. Was this the guy Callie mentioned earlier? Toby?
“There you are!” he booms, entering the kitchen. “I thought I smelled your spag—”
I turn just in time to see him stop dead in his tracks, cutting himself off as well. He’s huge—like a bear. While his size should probably intimidate me, his baby blue eyes are warm and friendly, and when he smiles, he’s got the deepest dimples that give him an almost childlike innocence.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were entertaining.” He looks at Greyston, then at me, and smiles. “I’m Toby. Greyston’s partner.”
Partner. Interesting word choice, but it could mean more than one thing.
“Hi.” I stand up and meet him halfway to offer him my hand. “I’m Juliette.”
“Juliette’s my new tenant,” Greyston clarifies. “The one I told you about.”
Realization flashes in Toby’s baby blues. “Of course. It’s nice to meet you.” He takes my hand in his, shaking it before standing next to Greyston. “What do you think of my boy’s pad?”
My eyebrow arches questioningly. His boy? I try to think of another meaning behind his declaration and decide they could be best friends.
Toby reaches around and rests a hand on Greyston’s shoulder, sort of half-embracing him.
Or not?
“The house is great,” I reply, deciding to stop worrying about something that really isn’t my business or within my ability to control.
