by Timms, Lexy
I killed his pride and joy.
What a fucking tragedy.
“Dinner’s ready.”
Michelle’s voice ripped through the recesses of my mind and my eyes flew open. I looked back at her and took in that quaint little smile of hers. Didn’t I just talk with her about dinner? Didn’t I just catch her in my arms after she’d chased me to the pantry? I took stock of the world behind her and focused on the moon rising in the sky. The last of the sun was setting beyond the horizon, and I was shocked at the time that had passed me by.
While I was stuck in my own memories from a time so long ago.
“Thanks. I’ll be in there in a second,” I said.
“Take your time. It’ll sit on the stove until you come in,” she said.
Then I listened as her feet padded off.
I smoothed my hand over the damaged fender and swallowed the knot in my throat. Why didn’t he restore it again? Money wasn’t the issue, he had plenty. He had the time. Why not try again? Had I broken his heart that badly?
The thought made me sick to my stomach.
Smoothing the tarp back over the car I shut the garage. I couldn’t look at it. I didn’t want to. Knowing he hadn’t pieced it back together after that night left me with more emotions than I wanted to deal with. I needed to keep moving forward. Keep making progress. I had a lot of things to figure out about his will and how to proceed, handing out everything just as he requested.
But when I got to the porch, I looked back one last time at the garage.
One last time at the looming evidence of the disappointment I could be in someone’s life.
No wonder my father beat the shit out of me.
Chapter 10
Michelle
I’d managed to pull together a pretty tasty pasta dish, but as Gray took his first bite I found myself holding my breath. I wanted him to like it. I wanted him to enjoy it, just like I had the first meal he cooked me. The fork entered his mouth and I tried not to stare too hard, but if he was going to spit it back out I wanted to be ready to get him something else. Or at least take a bit of my cash and order a pizza. He looked up at me and smiled before shoveling another forkful into his mouth, and I felt a massive smile cross my cheeks.
Yes.
He liked it.
Point for me.
Andy never liked anything I made him. There was always a complaint about something. The sauce was too runny or too thick. The noodles were too chewy or too soggy. The meat wasn’t cooked how he wanted it to be or the flavor wasn’t right. Always something he didn’t approve of. It was one of the reasons I’d stopped cooking for him.
It was also one of the first things we’d started fighting about.
The two of us ate in silence for a little while, but as I watched Gray I noticed that faraway look in his eyes. The one he’d had in the garage. But then, I saw his shoulders tense. I watched his face etch itself into stone. He looked upset. Bothered. Distracted.
He was probably sad. Grieving in the only way he knew how. Like I was.
He’d known Anton for much longer and had more memories with the man than I’d ever have. And part of me was jealous about that. I wanted more time with Anton. With his countenance and his knowledge and his presence. I wanted Gray to tell me all sorts of stories about him. But I didn’t want to put him on the spot.
Maybe if I started talking about it, he would follow my lead. Maybe if I shared my own love for Anton, he would feel compelled to share his.
“You know, I was in a butcher shop when I met Anton.”
Gray looked up at me as he slurped some noodles between his lips.
Those lips I’d almost kissed in the kitchen earlier.
“I was behind him in line and he was ordering tripe. I had no idea what it was, and when I asked him about it, he turned around. That was the first time he called me pretty girl.”
“What did he say?” Gray asked.
“He said something like, ‘a pretty girl like you wouldn’t know what tripe is, because a pretty girl like you deserves to eat well.’ I had no idea what the man was talking about until he told me what tripe really was,” I said, with a giggle. “Then, he asked me if I’d ever had tripe soup. Even though he knew what my answer would be, because I had no idea what the stuff was, he asked anyway. I frowned at him because I thought the mere idea of it was disgusting.”
“His tripe soup was the best,” he said.
“Oh, he told me all about it. He even invited me over to have dinner with him. I actually considered it, figuring, why not? I didn’t know anyone in town hardly and I thought he was nice. He told me I didn’t know what I was missing by not having tripe soup, but that he was looking forward to rectifying the problem for me. He said that, ‘if spiced perfectly, it was delicious.’ Then I made the crack that he better spice it just right unless he wanted me spitting it out.”
“Ooh, I bet he had a field day with that.”
“Oh, he did. He said I would do no such thing at his dinner table, because all of his food was cooked to perfection. But, my favorite comment from that day was when he told me I could probably dip my finger in the broth and make it spicy enough for the both of us! Can you imagine?”
I felt my cheeks flush at the memory of it all.
“Anton was nothing if not a flirt,” Gray said, chuckling.
“I wasn’t used to overt flirting like that. Or flirting at all, really. Guys had always just sort of—throw themselves at me if they wanted something. But I liked his flirting. It was innocent and kind. Something I’d never experienced with a man before. And I knew he was being innocent enough and just trying to get a rise out of me. He told me I was even prettier when I blushed, and that I made an old man’s heart feel young again.”
My eyes watered and I dropped them quickly back to my food.
“He paid for my meat that day. He told me to stop by whenever I wanted so I could try his tripe soup. I acted hurt and asked him what happened to our date? He clutched his heart like I’d pierced him with an arrow.” Then smiling, he went on to the next.
“Did you ever try his tripe soup?”
“Nope. Tripe is disgusting,” I said.
Gray laughed and it pulled one from my lips as well, enough though my face was streaked with tears at the memories.
“You know, there were these ladies who gathered at the coffee shop in the grocery store downtown. All of them had crushes on the old man.”
I wiped away my tears and brought my gaze up to meet Gray’s as he continued.
“Anton would go down the line and flirt with every single one of them. He’d kiss the backs of their hands and toss them winks, like it was in his blood to do so. I even saw them get into a fight once over the attention he gave them. Fought like bats out of hell over whose hand was going to get kissed that day.”
I threw my head back and laughed as the mental image bombarded my mind.
“For an older gentleman, he had a grace about him. Ruddy features. That white hair swooped off to the side. Tall. Broad.”
“Sounds like you had a crush, too,” Gray said with a grin.
“It was hard not to love him on the spot. Somehow, I felt like his equal when I was around him. I wasn’t used to that.”
“He had a way of making people feel that way.”
My eyes came back to his and we sat there, just looking at each other. I got a chance to study his features. To really take him in. Those icy blue eyes. That thick dark brown hair he kept swooped directly back. It wisped around his head and fell just behind his ears. The shadows playing through the windows cast sharp edges around his chiseled jawline, and my eyes trailed down his neck, taking in the slope. It bled into broad shoulders and tapered into a strong chest.
“Pretty girl.”
Gray’s whisper hit my ears and my eyes shot back up to his. Chills ricocheted all over my body. I wanted him. I did. I wanted to crawl across that table and press my lips against his. And I was pretty sure he wanted me back. His eyes danced aro
und my face as a grin slid across his cheeks. A mischievous grin that matched his darkening icy eyes.
But suddenly, he shot up from the table and just like that, the dark gaze was gone, the grin slid from his features and the hissing electricity between us dwindled. I leaned back in my chair as he took my plate, then quickly made his way into the kitchen.
“You cooked, I clean,” he said. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Yeah,” I said, defeated. “You’re welcome.”
I stood up from my chair, but as the water kicked on at the sink I felt guilt pool in my gut. I didn’t want Gray to think I was a freeloader. Yes, I had cooked, but I wasn’t paying the bills here. He was footing that cost. I wasn’t buying the groceries, he was. He wasn’t going to clean up my mess after I’d made it. If he was going to take care of this house financially, then I would take care of most of the cleaning that needed to be done.
“On second thought, I can clean up,” I said.
I moved toward him as he stood at the sink.
“I’ve got it. It’s only fair,” Gray said.
“You’re letting me stay here without charging me for it. I can at least keep the place clean for you.”
He tried to wave me away, but I wasn’t having it. I reached around his body and grabbed the plate, spinning him in my direction.
“Come on, it’s my turn to clean up. If you really like cleaning up, then let me cook at least,” he said.
“I’m not a freeloader. Let me pull my own weight around here since I don’t have much money to pay you,” I said.
“I don’t think you’re a freeloader, Michelle. And I highly doubt that Anton did, either.”
His words were like a punch to my gut. So much that I dropped the plate and took a step back. My foot hit a puddle and as my arms flailed, I felt myself going down. Falling. Towards the floor. Ready to land on my ass and crack my head open in front of this beautiful man I was fighting with at the kitchen sink.
Until that familiar sensation wrapped around my waist.
The plate crashed to the floor behind him, rolling around until the sound settled out. But I was too lost in his eyes to care. He slowly brought me to my feet again, like he’d done before all this started, only this time he didn’t let me go. His hands pressed into the small of my back, drawing me closer to him. His eyes fell to my lips. Studying me the way I had him. My eyes danced with his. My hands slid up his chest. I cupped his neck with my hands, smoothing my fingers along the veins bulging just under his skin.
Then suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, which I parted to allow his tongue entrance.
Chapter 11
Grayson
Her tongue was electrifying. It sent shivers down my spine as my cock throbbed against her body. I pressed her into the kitchen counter, the soapy water there getting her wet. I felt her tilt off to the side, deepening the kiss. Her hands felt so wonderful sliding against my skin, and fuck. Her curves. They molded around me perfectly. My hands rushed up her sides. I cupped her cheek. Fisted that beautiful hair of hers. I felt her gasp into my lips and smiled as her body pressed deeply into mine. Her tits puckered against my chest as she tugged at the hem of my shirt, her fingertips sliding along my bottom row of abs.
Shit.
What was I doing?
I pulled away, panting as I tried to catch my breath. Michelle’s eyes fluttered open as my hand released her hair. Holy fuck, did that feel good.
Damn it.
I was kissing Anton’s groundskeeper.
I stepped away from her in a flash, and I saw the look of disappointment roll across her face. I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to kiss her. To fuck her. To bury myself within her. But I was only here for a few days to put a dead man’s affairs in order. That was no time to start making out and fucking around with his official groundskeeper. Anton entrusted his house to me and everything that came with it. That included Michelle.
What kind of disappointment would I be to him if I battered her body like I’d battered his car?
Heat rushed through my veins. My eyes fell to her voluptuous tits and I could see her nipples poking through her shirt. Her hands pressed into the counter as she steadied herself and my cock grew rock hard in my pants. I needed to get out. To put so much distance between us that I forgot how her body had blanketed me. The domesticity was intense, and I liked Michelle too much to do what I really wanted to do with her.
She made me feel comfortable. She was easy to talk with. But I also wanted to fuck her. Badly. I wanted to bend her over every surface and coat every artifact in Anton’s house with her. I wanted to dive between her pussy lips and make her cum so many times she pushed me away to get me to stop. I wanted to take her out back in the yard and fuck her underneath the shade of the tree Anton refused to cut down. I wanted to take her to bed and roll my cock between her walls until she grew so tired from the pleasure she fell asleep around my dick.
“I have to go make a call,” I said. “I have to uh, check on some things.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Michelle said. “I’ll um—take care of this.”
I backtracked from the kitchen and took my phone out of my pocket. I slammed myself out of the house and into the car, desperate to get away from her scent. Her heat. Her voice. Her smile. I dialed my personal assistant to get an update on how things were going. How the vineyard was doing.
Anything to take my mind off her.
“Mr. McDonald. I was wondering when you were going to call.”
“I’m sorry, Maria. It’s been a whirlwind here in Stillsville.”
“Is that an oxymoron?” she asked.
“It might as well be. What do you have for me?”
“I’ve been working on arranging that meeting for the deal you wanted to discuss. I finally got them to commit to Thursday of next week. You’ll be back by then, right? Please tell me you will be. I’m tired of playing phone tag with these guys.”
“Yes, I’ll definitely be back by then,” I said.
But part of me didn’t want to be.
What the fuck was that about?
“I’ve got the rest of your calls on hold, though you’ll have a ton to come back to. And the latest batch of wine needs about three more weeks on it, or so I was told to relay to you.”
“That’s fine. It’s not due to bottle for another six,” I said. “Tell those guys to stop giving you the runaround and that I’ll be there for the meeting. They don’t need to know I’m out of town.”
“I never tell them, Mr. McDonald.”
“Would you call me Grayson already, Maria?”
“Not a chance. How are things going with the estate?”
“More tedious than I thought, but I’ll get it done,” I said.
“Anything you need from me?”
A massive dose of cold water over my head would be nice.
“Nope. I got it under control. You just keep doing what you’re so good at doing,” I said.
“You flatter me, but I’m old enough to be your mother.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful, Maria Lopez. We’ll talk soon.”
“Mhm. Talk to you soon, Mr. McDonald.”
I hung up the phone and my mind ripped me right back to the house. What the fuck? After that kiss, all I wanted to do was bury myself deep inside my sexy houseguest. I wanted to know what she sounded like cumming around my cock. But it wasn’t right, and I knew it wasn’t right. I knew if I did, it would be the second thing I ever did that really disappointed Anton. And I couldn’t do that to him. Not to his memory, not to myself, and not to Michelle. She was a good woman. A sweet woman. A beautiful woman and a treasure to behold.
She deserved better than to be fucked around with by some guy from out of town.
Anton had taken her in. She was one of his strays, so she obviously had baggage. And I wasn’t looking for baggage. If anything, I was looking to unload some. To get this town off my back for good. We were also grieving. I saw her tears at dinner. How easily they flowed when she
talked about the old man. I couldn’t take advantage of her grief and gratitude that way. I didn’t want her to think she that had to fuck me for a place to stay.
Holy hell. That would be insane.
I didn’t need to attach myself to this place. I was leaving in less than a week and never coming back. And I knew if I attached myself to Michelle, I’d want to come back to see her. I’d want to find myself back in Illinois just to be around her.
And that shit wasn’t happening.
When I parked my car, I looked at where my mind had taken me. And of course, I was back in front of the shitty bar in the middle of town. I figured I could use a cold beer. Or two. Or four. Maybe they would help me with my raging erection. I got out of my car and walked in and my ears were automatically assaulted by his voice.
Andy’s voice.
“Get me another beer, beautiful! And a round for everyone here!”
“Yeah!” everyone exclaimed.
My eyes caught his and he held his arms out.
“And your finest beer for my best friend, Grayson,” he said.
“Hello Andy.”
“The fuck you doing back here?” he asked, as he came in for a hug.
A waitress immediately put a bottle of beer in my hand.
“Come on. I’ve got a rousing game of darts going over here,” he said.
“We used to play darts all the time,” I said, as I followed him.
“I know. I play every night I come in,” he said. “Want a shot?”
I took the dart from him and chugged back my beer, then set it on the empty bar and took my position. I pulsed my hand once. Twice. Three times. Then I launched the dart into the air and hit three squares away from the middle.
“Oh shit. Looks like someone’s out of practice,” Andy said.
“Out of practice? That’s pretty good,” I said.
“Watch this.”
The waitress slid me another beer as Andy chucked a dart at the wall. And fuck me if it didn’t go right into the damn bullseye. How often was Andy at this place to be that good? Every damn night?
It honestly wouldn’t have shocked me if that was the truth.
