…
Niki parked in front of Grant’s house that evening, wishing she were the kind of person who could blithely horn in on a pair of newlyweds without guilt. She could have called Grant to cancel, moved into Lucy and Dex’s place, and just gone about her life until her new boss came through with the transfer to London that he’d dangled as a possibility during her interview. But she couldn’t. Being the third wheel to their new wedded bliss would just be cruel to them—and horribly uncomfortable for her.
She got out of the car and looked around the sweet little neighborhood made up of mostly older brick and earth-toned stucco homes with varying degrees of exploding flora and fauna in the front, dotted by the occasional newly constructed single-story. Lucy hadn’t exaggerated the short distance to Niki’s new job. Not that it mattered. No way could she live with her one-night stand. You couldn’t just be friends with a one-night stand. The awkwardness of having had sex with him would always be there. And she certainly didn’t plan to ever sleep with him again to overcome it. What if his sheer physical perfection, coupled by that swoony firefighter vibe he had going on, was too much temptation and she actually fell for him? He had an ex-wife and enough baggage left over from that ex-wife that he’d made it very clear to her that he did not want a relationship.
And truly, neither did Niki. She was hopefully going to London, and she was not interested in heading to Europe with a long-distance ball-and-chain tying her down.
Then there was the fact that he looked about as thrilled at the thought of Niki moving into his place as if Lucy and Dex had offered to send a suitcase full of bedbugs with her.
As she strode past the For Sale sign on the lawn, she couldn’t help but notice the manicured yard and window boxes overflowing with colorful blooms. Grant had a flawlessly renovated older brick home—at least from the outside. The front porch with its bright-red storm door reminded her of model homes she’d seen in magazines. Red doors supposedly blocked bad chi, according to the feng shui book she’d read just before she’d moved into Lucy’s condo.
Funny how she felt like bad chi in a pair of rose-colored slide heels right now. She raised her hand to ring the doorbell, and her fingers brushed against a scratchy firespike flower bush.
The rough sensation caused her to flash back to that stubble on his face. Which had felt so incredible as he’d trailed kisses down her back. The erotic memory raised goose bumps on her skin. She shook herself out of it and rang the bell.
Why had she agreed to this? Wasn’t as if she’d actually take him up on his offer to move in with him. There had to be another not-so-awkward answer to her housing dilemma.
Was it footsteps she heard or merely her heart thundering in dread? When he didn’t answer the door, she wondered if she’d gotten the address wrong, so she checked the text message he’d sent.
Hmm. Right house number, and she was only a few minutes late. She knocked, gave it a few minutes, but still got no response.
Well, darn. The least he could have done was be there to tell her no or have the decency to call her and cancel. Had he seriously bailed on her? So much for Grant being a stand-up hero kind of guy. The firefighters she’d known wouldn’t leave a woman abandoned on their doorsteps.
Maybe it was her. Maybe the thought of living with her was so awful it overcame his natural firefighter good-guyness and had caused him to lose his manners entirely. She fished in her purse for a scrap of paper and a pen, and then started writing.
Grant,
I came by, but you weren’t here. Sorry it didn’t work out.
Without bothering to sign it, she shoved it under the storm door, which opened into a glassed-in sunroom—obviously converted from what had once been a run-of-the-mill porch. Through the windows on the side, she could see into what looked like a cozy space, with plush indoor/outdoor chairs upholstered in gray and dotted with colorful throw pillows in her direct line of sight. Several potted palms obscured the rest of her view inside.
As soon as she got behind the wheel of her car, though, she had second thoughts. Why let him know she’d even come by? He’d obviously assumed she wasn’t desperate enough to actually stop in, or else he’d have been there.
And she was only temporarily desperate. As soon as she got her first paycheck from the new job, she’d be free and clear to find a sublet. She was good at budgeting—she could live on a shoestring until she shored up her savings. But being without a home for a full month before her first check arrived, per company policy? Okay, she was a little desperate. Not that he needed to know that.
Yeah, she had to take that note back. Better to let him think she’d never be insane enough to consider such a plan. She had her pride to consider. So she returned to the entryway, glanced around the neighborhood and, seeing no one looking her way, tried the handle. Locked. Saying a quick prayer that he didn’t have any nosy neighbors with itchy 911-dialing fingers, she kneeled down and peered under the door. The paper was only an inch or two away. If she could stick something long and thin through the space, she could pull it out.
Rifling in her purse, she found a nail file. Perfect. On the first attempt, she missed by a fraction of an inch. She held her breath, ready to give it another try.
Out of nowhere, an orange furry paw landed on the note. Before she could grab the paper, a triumphant meow let her know that Grant’s cat had moved it out of her reach.
“Son of a—” Sweat ran down her face. She wiped it away and got even lower, hoping to get a better visual. “Here kitty, kitty.”
The damn cat was nowhere in sight. Nor was her note. “Aw, seriously.”
“Looking for something down there?”
Oh God. She knew that honey-smooth, deep voice. Squeezing her eyes shut, she imagined what she must look like, on all fours, butt up in the air, peeking under his door. The very picture of elegance. “I can explain,” she said to the ground.
“Please do. This ought to be interesting.”
Sitting back on her knees, she found Grant standing beside a wheelbarrow, wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts and a navy-colored Mets baseball cap. Every tanned and toned inch of him glistened with sweat, his dark hair damp with it and a few strands falling in his eyes. A streak of dirt ran down the center of his belly, just above the waistband of his shorts, as if it was directing her gaze to the bulge between his legs. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
“Well?”
She startled at his demanding tone. With a sigh, she pushed herself upright and stood. He was really ridiculously good-looking. He probably thought she was here to stalk him, all of her talk of not wanting to get involved be damned. She did her best to move her face into something resembling bored nonchalance. “Your cat stole my…a piece of paper.”
Narrowing those brilliant green eyes at her, he set his hands on his hips. A smile played at the corners of his perfect lips, and she wanted to smack herself at the relief coursing through her that he wasn’t annoyed by her mere presence. “The cat that’s behind that door somehow managed to take what is apparently a very important paper from you?”
She gulped. This was just digging her in deeper. “If you’d open the door and let me get it, I promise I’ll leave and never bother you again. We can tell my family I was here, it didn’t work, end of story.”
He bit his bottom lip and smiled, a full-on, crinkle-the-stupidly-pretty-green-eyes smile, and she could feel the fake bored nonchalance literally melt off her face. Amusement shone in his eyes, making him look even sexier than usual. “Door’s open. Help yourself.” He reached around her to take the handle, turned, and gave it a shove. “Sticks a little, though.”
Open? Seriously? She mentally smacked herself.
Grabbing a towel from the handle of the wheelbarrow, he wiped those strong arms, that muscular chest, and handsome face.
She couldn’t look away. Since when was she incapable of controlling her own eyes? Ick. She really had to get a grip on her suddenly raging sex hormones.
“S
orry I wasn’t in front when you got here,” he said. “I got caught up in some gardening and lost track of time. I was weeding my neighbor’s flower bed.”
He’d been busy doing a good deed, and she’d assumed the worst. “It’s no problem. I shouldn’t have been so impatient.”
Unless… Yeah, he’d probably been helping some hot young coed. She drank in the sight of his perfectly toned, half-naked body. Had he been working on his neighbor’s flowerbed or the bed inside her house? Of course, he wouldn’t have a wheelbarrow and a bunch of yard implements with him if he’d been in some woman’s bed. And she couldn’t imagine what they would have done there to get so dirty. Or maybe she could…
“’S’okay. If you want to go before you even see the place, go ahead. Tell your family whatever you like. I’ll corroborate.” He strode past her to the door. “Just so you know, I thought about it, and we probably could have done this roommate thing. Would have been a win-win. I’m not home much, and I do need someone to look after Sarge when I’m at the station. He’s the paper-stealing cat, by the way.”
She had to smile at that.
“From what Dex tells me, you could have used a month or two of rent-free living, but I get that you might find it awkward.”
“You wouldn’t, after we—?”
“Want to go inside to have this conversation?” He waved to a couple walking past with a dog.
That would at least provide her the opportunity to grab the sadsack note from his cat. Not that it was that big of a deal now that he obviously knew she’d shown up. “Um, sure.”
Opening the door, he ushered her inside, through a foyer to a great room with a high, vaulted ceiling and parquet floors. To the right was an open–floor plan kitchen with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. This had to be the cleanest guy’s home she’d ever seen. It even smelled good.
The thieving orange cat strode past, tail straight up in the air like a periscope. Unfortunately, her note was nowhere to be seen.
She feigned a dry cough, put her hand at her throat, and did it again.
“Can I get you a drink?”
When she nodded, Grant headed to the kitchen. She took the opportunity to look around for her note in earnest. It wasn’t on the floor anywhere that she could see, or on any of the furniture in the room, so she darted back to the porch and searched it, then returned to peer behind some potted palms and under the leather and industrial chic furniture pieces that dotted the great room and kitchen breakfast nook. Darn it. Where had the kleptomaniac cat stashed it?
Grant came back a few moments later, holding two water bottles. He twisted the cap off of one and handed it to her then drank the other one until it was gone. Since when did she find the sight of a man guzzling water so incredibly sexy?
After taking a few sips of hers, she turned away from him and concentrated on the house instead. “You have a lovely home, but under the circumstances, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to move in.”
“That was my initial thought, too. Since I’ll be leaving Miami as soon as the house sells, why bother taking in a renter?”
Was that all she was to him? A renter? Not that it should bother her. They’d only known each other for a day, yet she knew things about him—intimate things. Like the taste of his kiss, the scent of his skin, and his throaty groan as his pleasure peaked.
She stuck her suddenly sweaty hands into her pockets.
“But the more I thought about it, I realized it could work,” he continued. “Like I said, I sleep at the station a couple nights a week. Sarge is fifteen, and he needs someone to be here with him. The lady who used to look in on him while I was working…well, she’s gone.” His eyelids drooped for a moment. After clearing his throat, he continued. “Anyway, if you’re concerned about you and me being here together, you shouldn’t be. Last night won’t happen again—”
Really? Against her better judgment, she felt herself bristle. Like her performance had been so forgettable he could just brush it off and live with her without their proximity affecting him at all?
She started when she realized he was staring at her, a worried expression on his face, waiting for her to respond. And she was scowling.
“—as we talked about?”
She relaxed her forehead, trying mightily to ignore how much his reference to last night sent her into meltdown mode. “Oh. Great. That’s great. I’m sure we’d be great friends. That’d be great.” Oh God. Could she be any more ridiculous?
But he was nodding vigorously, like she’d just made an actual intelligent and coherent point. “You’re leaving town; I’m leaving town. You just had a breakup. I don’t do relationships. So you have nothing to worry about there.”
Good to know, she supposed. “So what happened? You broke up with a girlfriend who used to take care of the cat?”
His lips flattened. “It was an elderly woman, my other neighbor. They moved her to assisted living recently.”
Oops. “I’m sorry. Although my great aunt is in assisted living, and she loves it. Free bingo every day.”
He smiled. “Listen, why don’t you take a look around? Your room would be the master at the end of the hall. I’ve got softball practice in an hour, and I need a shower, which’ll only take me five minutes. Think about it. We can talk after I shower, okay?”
He wiped a hand over his chest, and all that tanned skin and rippling muscle and hot-as-all-get-out flashbacks made her forget for a moment that they were wrong for each other. “Yeah, sure. But why don’t you use the master bedroom?”
Tiny muscles around his jaw ticked. “After my wife left…I didn’t want to be there. Then I got used to one of the other bedrooms.”
A lump formed in the back of her throat. That’s right, before the wedding Lucy had told her that he’d married young, his wife had cheated, and they’d divorced. She didn’t have the heart to say anything negative now, so she just nodded. “I’ll look around.”
A minute later, she heard water running. Her mind drifted to Grant and formed a mental picture of him in the shower—water and soap suds sluicing over every sinewy inch of him.
She set a hand over her racing heart and forced the image away as she checked out the master bedroom, which was huge with an enormous attached bathroom and two walk-in closets. All for free. But she couldn’t. It would be uncomfortable. Being around Grant would be too tempting.
So on top of the fact that she was planning a move across the ocean, and he’d made it clear he didn’t want a relationship, there was the fact that he’d been so broken up about his marriage ending that he couldn’t even sleep in his beautiful master bedroom. Which meant his next girlfriend would be Rebound Girl. She had no desire whatsoever to be Rebound Girl. Been there, done that.
Much as she hated taking backward steps in her life, she had no other alternative. She had to stop picking the wrong guy and start making the right choices for herself. She pulled out her cell and phoned her mom, keeping her voice low. “Hey, do you think I could stay in your guest room for a while? It would only be until I get established at my new job. A couple of months tops.” Maybe she could rent a storage unit for her clothes.
Her mother hesitated. “Uh, I’m sorry, hon. Jack’s son beat you to it. Eric’s moving in next week.”
“Eric? He doesn’t even live in Florida.” A headache started behind her eyes. She liked her stepfather Jack a lot, but she couldn’t help but feel a childish twinge that his son was occupying the space in her mother’s home that she needed.
“Apparently he and his mother aren’t getting along, so he’s decided to spend the summer here and possibly do his senior year of high school in Miami. Jack’s excited, since he hasn’t spent much time with him recently.”
Great. Just great. Now what was she supposed to do?
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“I understand.” She talked to her mom for a bit longer before disconnecting. Pacing the hall, she racked her brain. There had to be someone she could stay with for a
few months. Too bad her best friend Amy lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Niki had no desire to try Amy’s patience by making her trip over her every day after work. And on weekends.
Grant exited his room, dressed in a purple jersey and shorts, smelling like a pine forest, looking even better than he had a few minutes earlier. She dragged her stare away and pretended to inspect the framed Harley Davidson poster in the hallway.
“Sarge brought me a present.” He handed her the note she’d slipped under his door, then folded his arms over his chest. How was she supposed to think with a set of biceps like his staring her in the face? And those pecs. Holy cow.
She licked her lips then realized he was watching her ogle his muscles. Damn it. What had he been saying? Memories from the night before filled her head. The best sex of her life. “I appreciate your offer to let me stay here, but after last night…”
Amusement shone in his eyes. “I had a good time last night.”
So did I. She swallowed and stared at her feet. “It was…nice.”
“Just nice?”
Her pulse leaped as she met his stare. “Better than that.”
One corner of his mouth slowly lifted to form a lopsided grin. “We’re cool. Not a problem if you don’t want to live here.” He turned and started toward the front door.
Could be that this was her best option after all. Or her only option. “Well, I mean, I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything. You have a gorgeous home. Maybe I’ll think about it.”
In the foyer, he grabbed a catcher’s mitt from a hook on the wall. “Don’t worry about it. Hell, for what your brother-in-law’s paying me to store his files here, I can have my house to myself and hire a cat sitter a few days a week, right?”
She managed a chuckle. “I guess so.”
He opened the door, she walked through, and then he said good-bye and closed it gently, leaving her on his glassed-in porch. And she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She slumped down onto one of the patio loveseats, grabbing a bright yellow throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. Sarge the sneaky, paper-stealing cat hopped up next to her, and she absentmindedly scratched his orange kitty head while she thought over her situation.
The Best Man's Proposal (The Hamilton Sisters) Page 2
