She still had options, or did she? Lucy had said it was no problem for Niki to stay with her and Dex.
A memory popped into her head from long ago, grade-school days. Some girls on the bus were teasing Niki about her out-of-style clothes, her second-hand backpack, and her cheap sneakers. They said things like, “Niki don’t have a nickel.” She remembered wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her. Until Lucy got on the bus. Her sister had feared nothing and no one. She’d marched over and told off every one of those girls.
No, Niki couldn’t infringe upon this time in Lucy’s marriage. The right thing was to give her sister and Dex the privacy they deserved.
Oh boy. What had she just lost out on? She could have handled seeing Grant a few times a week and taking care of his thieving but pretty adorable cat. She had willpower.
Standing there dumbfounded, she fought back tears. Now what? Live at the Y?
…
Grant leaned against the door and shut his eyes. Why was Niki still out there on the porch? He thought he heard her sniffle, so he teased back the blinds and glimpsed her sitting on the loveseat with Sarge, looking kind of lost and miserable. His stomach clenched.
The only woman he’d ever shared quarters with had been his ex-wife, Carrie, and that hadn’t ended well, to say the least. Of course, this was completely different. This would be platonic, a straightforward roommate situation. Except for the glaring elephant in the room—the fact that he and Niki had shared one night of fantastic sex. And the little glitch that he still found her incredibly attractive.
They’d gotten through the awkwardness of the morning after okay—she hadn’t slapped him or cried, so he’d consider that a win. But what if temptation proved too strong—and mother of God, she was temptation personified—and they did it again? Didn’t living with someone and having sex more than once constitute some sort of relationship? He did not. Do. Relationships. At least not since the damn divorce. But where would she go if he didn’t let her stay with him? As newlyweds, Dex and Lucy needed their privacy. According to Dex, Niki didn’t have the money to rent her own place yet. And in truth, his friend was helping him out by paying Grant to store his accounting firm’s files in Grant’s spare room while Dex’s office was being renovated.
If Niki had any other options, she wouldn’t still be on his porch, all upset. He couldn’t just leave her homeless, especially when he had a perfectly good place for her to stay. Wasn’t as if there was anyone occupying his master bedroom anyway.
Oh, hell. Why did he have this stupid compulsion to save the day? She looked like a capable woman. He was sure she could save herself.
He inhaled the floral scent of her perfume she’d left in her wake. If he let her move in, he’d have to smell it all the time. Somehow he’d have to ignore those dazzling cornflower blue eyes of hers, the full lips, and perfectly turned-up nose.
And that wouldn’t be the only reminder of their night together. Each time he saw her in short shorts or a skimpy outfit, would his mind play images of their greatest hits? The silky feel of her dark hair sliding over his skin, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, the way her back arched as she’d climaxed.
He shook off the memories. And that just left him watching her looking like a homeless waif on his porch furniture, her manicured nails digging into her gloriously thick hair as stress obviously got to her. Even though she was in profile, he could see the tension on her face, between her shoulders.
She’d had the rug pulled out from under her when Dex and Lucy unloaded their condo in a rapid sale to that developer. Now she was practically rocking back and forth on his wicker chaise, looking about two breaths away from a panic attack. And he had the power to make her life a little bit easier—if only he could tell his libido to stand down.
Then again, she’d said she wasn’t interested in strings, either. Maybe it would be okay.
Pulling open the door, he feigned surprise. “So that’s where Sarge went.”
“He followed me.” Niki’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Niki, it’s going to be okay,” he said. A small trace of hope flickered in her eyes, and Grant knew he was doomed. Bracing himself, he made his decision and stepped aside. “Come on in. The mosquitoes will eat you alive this time of night.”
Pursing her lips, she nodded. “I’ve thought about it. I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“I figured. Welcome.” As she brushed past him, he drew a deep breath and prayed that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
Chapter Two
Grant maneuvered one end of Niki’s dresser through the doorway and into the master bedroom of his house while Dex handled the other side.
“That goes to the left of the bookcase, please.” Niki added another throw pillow to her bed. The brightly colored accessories were her only purchase for her new room, but they lent a fresh, tropical feel and hadn’t broken her budget.
Niki directed an army of Grant’s buff fireman buddies, each loaded down with drawers or boxes that they placed where she told them. Each man was attractive enough to grace the pages of a sexy fireman calendar, but only one made her knees weak every time he came close to her. But surely she’d get used to being around Grant. She had to.
An hour later, she’d already treated everyone to pizza and beer and was in the process of filling goody bags with homemade cookies to send with each of Grant’s friends as a thank-you for their help.
Lucy showed the last of the guys out, then high-fived her husband. “That was pretty damn quick. I’ve never seen such hot moving men.”
Grant hauled a load of broken-down boxes toward the garage. Seeing him in a sexy uniform would only amp up Niki’s libido more, which was not a good idea. She sank into the sofa. “Need help with those?”
He waved away her offer as he set his burden outside the door.
Dex placed his empty beer bottle on the breakfast bar. “You realize we’ll be roped into doing this again in a month or two when your house sells and she moves again, right?”
Grant shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s days like this that keep me from having to pay for a gym membership.”
Dex frowned. “I still can’t believe you’re willingly leaving Miami for rural New York. Who are you going to play ball with, the cows and chickens?”
“What can I say? I’m a country boy at heart.”
Niki couldn’t help but butt in. “Cows and chickens? I thought you were just looking for a fresh start here in Miami?” She’d just assumed that the house had too many memories of his ex-wife, so he wanted to find a new one.
He hitched a broad shoulder in a half-shrug. “I’ve never been fond of Miami. Plus my folks are getting older. They need help managing their farm. So as soon as the house sells…” He let his voice trail off.
He’d head to a farm. To live with pigs and chickens. Which was pretty much her definition of hell.
Wow, the signs just kept coming that she and Grant were Meant to Not Be Ever. Clearly their goals were at opposite ends of the spectrum. She could never live in the country. Not even if some producer wanted to make a sad fish-out-of-water reality show out of her experience for a million dollars.
Another reason to keep things between them in the friend zone, no matter how much her traitorous hormones kept messing with her.
“Call me tomorrow,” her sister said as she and Dex headed toward the door. “Amy reminded me that we’re overdue for a girls’ night out.”
“I promise,” Niki said as they left. She locked up and swallowed, realizing she and Grant were alone together. Glancing toward the kitchen, she found him filling a filtered water pitcher from the sink. His T-shirt clung to his back and shoulders, highlighting every muscle there.
His cat wound around his shins, meowing. “Time for Sarge’s dinner.” He waved Niki into the kitchen. “Let me show you where his food is.”
“Yeah, sure.” She followed him to the pantry, where he retrieved a can of cat food and mixed it with some broth he kept in
the fridge.
“I make up a batch of the soup every few days. It’s good for his bones.”
Niki sat at a barstool at the breakfast bar. “You seriously do this every day for a cat?”
“He’s fifteen years old.” Grant scratched the top of Sarge’s head and pitched his voice comically high. “We are an old cat, and we need our special soup. Yes, we do.” Sarge purred and lifted his shaggy head, and darn if it didn’t look like that spoiled kitty was almost smiling. “Who’s a good boy? That’s right, who’s a good boy?”
Niki smothered a laugh. Wow, he was adorable.
The cat. She’d been referring to the cat.
Grant gave her an exaggerated sheepish look and took his hand away from Sarge, then set the food bowl on the floor. The cat hopped down and shoved his face into it, making little smacking noises as he ate.
“In cat years, that’s about as old as your Aunt Bev,” Grant said, his voice back to its normal low timbre.
“Wow.” Who’d have guessed that Mister Hot Fireman could be so tender toward animals? “You completely just lost all dignity around the cat.”
“Yeah. I did for a minute there, didn’t I? Don’t tell anyone.” He shot her the sweetest, crooked half smile. “Oh, I got you something.” He strode past her into the living room with a slow, masculine gait and picked up a DVD from the wall unit. “Have you ever seen Swing Time?”
Niki widened her eyes. “I love that one.” And he’d bought it for her? Her stomach did that fluttery thing again.
“Shall I put it on?” Nudging her toward the couch at her nod, he slipped the disc into the player and turned down the lights. Despite the fact that they were both tired from moving Niki’s things in, this was starting to feel like a date. And she was torn between stopping it in its tracks and letting things move forward as they would.
Niki retrieved a carton of coffee ice cream she’d stashed in the freezer and grabbed a spoon from the drawer before sitting next to him. “Did you know that Ginger Rogers did so many takes for ‘Never Gonna Dance’ that her shoes were filled with blood by the end of the day?”
“Damn. That’s some serious commitment.”
“Like running into a burning building isn’t?” She stretched her legs out on the sofa, intending only to put some distance between them.
Shrugging off her comment, he slid closer, lifted her feet onto his lap, and started rubbing one as the movie began playing. It felt so good. Which reminded her of the other ways he’d touched her after Lucy’s wedding. The room grew warmer as he worked his magic on her heels, toes, and ankles.
If anyone deserved a foot rub, it was him. She’d barely had to lift a finger in the move. Not only had he provided all the manpower, now he was treating her as if she was the one who’d exerted herself.
There was no denying that Grant was a genuinely nice guy. That was clear from the way he cared for his cat to the sheer number of loyal friends he had at his beck and call.
She took a bite of ice cream and surreptitiously skimmed her gaze over his big hands and his muscled arms as they massaged her feet, up to his broad shoulders, and, finally, those incredible green eyes.
God, they were gorgeous. She let out an audible sigh before she could stop herself.
Grant looked at her with a question in his expression.
Digging the spoon into the ice cream carton, she repeated the sound. “This is amazing stuff.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Can I taste it?”
“Sure.” Her pulse leaped like a jackrabbit as she slid the spoon into his mouth then watched him lick his lips.
“You’re right. It’s amazing.” His gaze refused to let go of hers.
She gave him a good-natured eye roll. “Player,” she said softly.
He smiled. Or at least, she thought he was smiling at her. Maybe he was baring his teeth. “I mean every word, Niki. It’s been a while, other than when we were together. Maybe I’m rusty.”
“You aren’t,” she murmured. Suddenly, she was engulfed in estrogen, as if her inner thermostat had been turned up to heat wave.
No, she had to shut this down. He was all wrong for her. London. New York. Rebound Girl. Country Boy. So wrong on so many levels. Yet being this close to him turned her inside-out.
“Grant.” She pulled her legs off of him and hugged them to her chest. He sat up, giving her a puzzled look. “If we’re going to be living together, we should probably keep things platonic. Neither one of us wants a relationship, so this is bound to get awkward before our arrangement ends.” She gave a hollow laugh. “Knowing my luck.”
“Right.” He inhaled deeply and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Whatever the lady wants. Friend zone it is.”
She tried to convey her appreciation with her eyes. “Thank you.”
“I want you to be comfortable here, Niki.” He sat back and put a throw pillow over his groin, looking chivalrous but decidedly uncomfortable. She really had to help him out with that.
She backed to the end of the sofa. “So…tell me about your ex-wife. What was her name again?”
Grant stiffened, and the muscles around his jaw visibly tightened. “Carrie.” He tossed the pillow to the side. Mission accomplished.
“Right. I knew it was something from a horror movie.”
That earned her the briefest grin, but all humor disappeared from his expression in a moment and was replaced with a roadmap of pain. He was so young to have been married and divorced already. What kind of monster hurt and dumped a sweet firefighter with good manners who loved cats?
Grant tipped his chin toward the television as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced through an Art Deco Venice. “Wouldn’t it be nice if happily ever after was really like that? All champagne and dancing and…”
Niki set the ice cream carton on the coffee table. “And what?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. I don’t like talking about myself. Definitely not about my marriage.”
“Sorry I brought it up.”
Sarge jumped up on the back of the sofa and settled near Niki. Good Lord, he was fat. She didn’t know how he managed to leap onto the couch so gracefully despite all that furry bulk. She rubbed the side of his face, which started the cat purring.
“It’s okay,” Grant said. “It gets a little less painful every day. I chalk the whole thing up to the ignorance—or idealism—of youth.”
Despite his pronouncement to the contrary, she sensed he needed to talk about it, so she channeled her college psych professor. “How do you feel about that?”
Sliding her an amused glance, he exhaled deeply. “Well, doctor, mistakes are a lot easier to handle if they don’t have far-reaching consequences.”
“Like what?”
He bunched his lips to one side. “Leaving my family and the only place I’d ever lived, quitting a great job, moving to a noisy, overcrowded city.”
“Aw, Miami’s a great city.” She swiped a drip of ice cream from the side of the container and let the cat lick it off her finger. She probably wasn’t helping Sarge achieve his ideal weight, but he looked so cute.
Grant combed his fingers through his hair. “When we met, we both lived in the Hudson Valley, a rural part of New York. No traffic jams or air pollution. I thought we both wanted that simple kind of life. I’ve always planned to take over my parents’ farm someday.”
After setting her ice cream on an end table, Niki reached for the remote and muted the TV. “She wanted to move here, huh?”
“The company she was working for closed its office outside of Poughkeepsie. They offered her a raise to relocate to Miami. We planned to eventually go back north, but she fell in love with city life.” He leaned back against the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. “More than that, actually. All the nice things her new salary bought were very appealing to her. When I found out she was sleeping with her boss, I divorced her.”
What kind of person cheated on a sweet firefighter with good manners who loved cats? A weight pressed on
her chest. “I’m sorry.” Niki placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I can’t stand people who pretend to be one thing or want something then turn around and completely change their mind. Do you think she just said she wanted to do the whole farmer’s wife thing so you’d marry her?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now.”
Clearly he was still hurting, which made Niki despise Carrie even more. “Well, it pisses me off that she treated you that way. Then you end up moving your whole life down here, and for what?” She jabbed her spoon at him. “You have every right to hate her. I totally get that she didn’t want to do the farm thing. I wouldn’t, either. I’m a city girl through and through, but I’d never tell a guy I wanted to if I didn’t.”
“Hmm.” The end credits started rolling on the movie, so he shut off the TV and got up—all without making eye contact. Obviously he wasn’t used to all that emoting. “I should get my uniform ready for tomorrow. My shift starts early.”
“Oh, okay.” She wondered if she’d spoken out of turn about his ex-wife. The notion that she might have touched on his sore spot cut through her. “Maybe we can watch another movie on your next night off.”
“Sure.”
Although she’d have to be careful about having him rub her feet, or touch her at all. Way too dangerous.
…
Tristan gestured at a dog turd on the curb in front of his South Beach night club. “Clean that up, would you, love? Everything must be perfect for the club’s opening. We can’t have our guests ruining their designer shoes as they wait in line to get into Heatwave tomorrow night.”
A protest was on the tip of Niki’s tongue. She was a college graduate and Tristan’s assistant manager, not a janitor or a maid. What if this was yet another of her boss’s tests? She’d been on the job at the trendy Heatwave nightclub a mere two weeks, yet she’d seen him fire more than one person who’d failed his impromptu challenges. In order to be a team player—one of Tristan’s favorite catch phrases—she had to prove she was up for anything, no matter how difficult or menial.
The Best Man's Proposal (The Hamilton Sisters) Page 3
