She unwrapped her hair and wrapped her orange and purple scarf around the top of my head, tying it at the base of my neck, so it was held in place like a headband. I remember her words like they were spoken yesterday; she said, “Now don’t you go forgetting how pretty you are, Gracie, just ‘cuz I ain’t here to remind ya every day. And promise me you won’t stop dancing. I see the glimmer in your eyes every time your body sways to the music.” I can still see the sadness in her eyes when she bent to hold me in her arms. Her lips grazed the top of my hair that was pinned back in a tight French braid under the scarf. She said, “My little graceful mess, I will never forget you.” The thought makes tears swell up in my eyes, but I quickly brush them away remembering we are standing in the middle of a nightclub.
“Over here.” Maci guides us through the crowd of bodies as my eyes take in the surroundings. I’m no prude. I’ve been to a bar before, but it was nothing like this. The crowd is so big that people are rubbing and brushing up against me. I clench my clutch close to my body scared to death it will get stolen. Not like there is anything of importance in it, other than a tube of nude lipstick, my credit card, and a piece of spearmint gum, but still I’d rather not get mugged.
“Hey, look, there’s Spencer.” Her bronzed hand rises as she points to the corner of the dimly lit room. I notice two attractive men standing, surveying the room, their heads nodding to the beat of the melody being played by the DJ.
“Spencer Ramsey, as in the tattoo shop owner?” I see her eyes widen and then it hits me.
This was all a set up!
“You have got to be kidding me, Maci! You knew he was going to be here!” Taking a deep breath, I say, “Yup, you did, didn’t you? That’s who you were on the phone with earlier, isn’t it? Well played, Maci Barker. Well played. I thought you were reading that trash you call news!” I tease in defeat.
“Shh.” She doesn’t blink, as she stares past my head. Her glossy lips are pressed together, and I see her head slowly tilt to the side as her eyes grow wide once again. I turn to see what has caught her attention, as the two men walk towards us. I quickly turn back around to face Maci. I scowl at her, but she ignores me.
“Shh,” she whispers again, as her mouth opens slightly, allowing her tongue to glide across her bottom lip.
I shake my head. What else is there to do? She coaxed me into coming, now we’re here, probably about to hear the worst pick-up lines in history. I take a deep breath and I turn back around, facing the men that we came here for – unwillingly, might I add.
“Well, what are the chances of meeting you here, baby doll?” the taller one of the two, with short hair and a neck covered in ink, asks. His voice reminds me of a singer in a rock band who has played on too many stages in his time. I try to hide my distaste. He has tattoos all over the visible portions of his body and his lip has a strange metal ring sticking out of it. I bite the outside of my lip in a desperate attempt to prevent myself from giggling at her lover-boy’s appearance.
“I could have asked you the same question,” she replies in a seductive tone. The sexual tension in the air is thick enough to make me cough. I would normally feel like a third wheel, but in this situation there is another outcast: lover-boy’s friend.
“Ahem,” I say while clearing my throat. “Hi, I’m Grace. And you are?” The tall one whose eyes are locked on Maci’s stay in place; he doesn’t even blink as I ask him his name. I might as well be talking to a brick wall.
“Sorry about my friend.”
The other guy notices me talking and extends his hand in front of him. He is normal, at least from what I can tell. No visible piercings or tattoos, although his pants are a little baggy and I can see the top of his boxers sticking out. I try to hide my blushing face by secretly scratching my cheek.
“I’m Carson, and you are?” His expression now matches mine, curiosity overwhelming us both. Our hands meet in the middle as we shake.
I slowly pull mine back out of his tight grasp as I answer his question. “Like I said before, I’m Grace. It’s nice to meet you, Carson. Care to buy me a drink?” I might as well get something out of this little ordeal. Lord knows, it won’t be what Maci is getting, so a free drink will suffice. I can tell my bluntness shocked him. It did me too, if we’re being honest. I am normally very quiet, especially in the awkward situations I always seem to find myself in with Maci.
“It’d be my pleasure. What’s your poison?”
I stare at him dumbstruck for a few seconds.
“What would you like to drink, is what I meant?” Clarifying that issue, I crinkle my nose to think. I’m not a big drinker so I go with one I know Maci normally sips on.
“A Long Island Iced Tea, please.”
“Wow, I didn’t peg you for a feisty girl. One LIT coming right up, princess.”
I shake off his dumb remark because, frankly, he is no one, at least not to me. I’ll use him to buy me some drinks tonight, and I won’t ever have to see him again.
The bar is packed tonight, but I know the bouncer, Henry, from the gym so he ushers me in as I skip the long line waiting outside. Walking into the building I stand on the balcony so I can see everything, taking a moment to survey the area. My eyes find Spencer talking to a brunette, and then I see my brother shaking hands with a blonde.
Score.
Nodding my approval of his choice of woman for the night, I make my way down the stairs and approach the bar.
“What can I get ya, baby?” the bartender shouts over the music from behind the wooden counter.
“Whiskey and Coke, on the rocks.” I fumble in my pocket for my wallet, hand the girl a ten-dollar bill, and then make my way to where I saw my brother tucked away in the corner. As I approach Spencer and Carson from behind, I see the two females walking away in the opposite direction.
“How the hell did you run them off already?” I joke as I walk up from behind them.
“Ah, my long lost brother. I see you finally came out of hiding. And to what do we owe this pleasure tonight?”
Given the little punk he normally is, why would I have expected anything different from him tonight? I bite my tongue knowing this isn’t the time or place to get into it with his lowlife ass.
“Shut the fuck up, bro.” I eye him, seeing if he is going to erupt like the volcano I know he is.
“I’m just playing, Park. Just ‘cuz you went and got all old on me doesn’t mean you can’t take a joke, right?” He elbows me in the ribs, as amber liquid flows over the rim of his glass.
“Right,” I mumble under my breath. I wonder how long they have been here and how he is already toasted enough to be spilling his drink.
“Who were those chicks you were talking to?”
“I don’t know. Ramsey,” he says, referring to Spencer, “met the brunette one a few weeks ago at the shop, and the blonde just tagged along with her.”
I see the pair emerge from the ladies’ room a few minutes later. Recognizing her face, I am shocked, but my eyes are instantly glued to her. Her smile is so wide, the sounds of laughter coming out of her mouth echo in the small hallway. I raise my glass to my lips and take a draw. The burning sensation reminds me this isn’t a daydream. Although I wish it were. I can only picture the naughty positions I would lay her toned body in underneath mine.
“Which is fine by me because she is smoking in that blue dress. Wait, do you know them or something?” I hear Carson talking, but I don’t understand a lick of what he saying. The blonde captivates me in ways I thought weren’t humanly possible.
“Parker, what the fuck, dude. You listening?” he barks before he notices where all my attention is.
Forcing myself to look away a second too late, he catches me red-handed. “Sorry, bro, what?”
“Do you know that piece of ass?”
“No. Not yet anyway.” Remembering her beautiful face from the file, Grace, the woman I was hired to track, is now only a few feet away. Squinting my eyes, I wonder again if this is real life or a day
dream. Who the hell am I kidding? She is real and she is here. I can almost feel her presence, and then realization hits me. She’s here with Carson. How fucking stupid. Carson of all people? I look over to see him mind-fucking some redhead whose black skirt is so short you can see the bottom of her ass cheeks. Perky little ass cheeks, I might add, but that’s not my point. There is a blonde bombshell walking towards us and he is ready to dry hump some skank. She’s a sure thing, I know that, but nothing good comes out of mindless hookups. I’ve learned that lesson time and time again, ever since Kristy and I broke up.
My eyes watch Grace, step by step, as she draws closer. My throat feels dry, so I take a swig of my drink and allow an ice cube to rest on my tongue and then I suck on it. The coolness of the small square cube in my warm mouth does nothing to quench my thirst. I’d rather be sucking on her sweet little tits. I’m sure they are swollen with need. They probably haven’t been touched lately.
God, I hope they haven’t.
I want to cup her breasts in that tight blue dress. She has got to know what she is doing wearing that damn thing, yet her face looks lost, like she’s scared of even being in this place. Her innocence radiates off of her like a neon sign. Horny, male eyes travel down her long, slender legs, and I notice a dude standing against the wall, eyeing her a little too hard. He has a tattoo covering the hand that is holding the neck of a beer bottle. My hand tightens around my glass as the ice cube breaks into two pieces in my mouth from the blunt force of my teeth. I’d like to break that moron’s jaw. And I might just get the chance if he keeps drooling over her like a dog. She deserves way better than that chump, and way better than Carson too, that’s for damn sure. I drink her in as she strolls towards us. I don’t know why, but I can’t force my eyes away from hers. The moment she stops checking me out and her eyes travel to my face, my breath catches in my chest.
What the hell is wrong with me?
If I thought I was in trouble before, I should be locked away now just from the thoughts of having her under me racing through my mind. Her picture doesn’t do her justice, and now here we are, face to face. Dad warned me, and I seriously cannot mess up this case. I’ll try to play it cool tonight, although I want to pull her into my arms, slide off her dress and mark her as mine. I saw Carson looking at her when she came out of the bathroom, and he had the same glimmer in his eye. It makes me want to kick his ass, but on what grounds? It’s not like I can be like, “Back up, bro, she’s mine.” He would call my bluff, and laugh in my face. The reality is she is nothing and everything in the same being. She is Grace, and she is my client’s long lost love child. The thought makes me sick so I drink it away with the Jack.
We walk out of the tiny, disease-ridden bathroom as Maci chants, “Carson and Gracie sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” We both start laughing and then realize our drinks are empty so we walk in the direction of our new friends. I am surprised by my sociability tonight. I guess that’s why they call alcohol “social lubricant.” The thought of fawning all over a man just for a free drink repulses me, but I don’t work and I’m on a budget, so I follow Maci’s lead.
“Do you remember there being three of them?”
I half think she is seeing things; I mean, she has had several drinks in the short amount of time we’ve been here, and I know if I’m feeling a head change then she must be. Her statement urges my eyes towards the small table we were at only moments before. I gasp as my eyes take in the new addition.
He is standing in dark jeans with a light blue and white striped button-up. The first two buttons are undone, exposing a white V-neck T-shirt underneath, accompanied by a hemp necklace with a metal emblem on it. My eyes take in his height before they travel down his legs – legs that I imagine are built –to his feet, which are covered in a pair of chocolate, leather Doc Martens. His brown, shaggy hair is a little long for my liking, but it isn’t long and gross like a skateboarder or surfer, all greasy and wild. He is too big and muscular for that. You can tell he works out, that much is obvious by the broadness of his shoulders. The five o’clock shadow on his jawline gives him a scruffier appearance, and I really want to reach out and run my hands down his unshaven cheeks. Suddenly my cheeks feel flushed, which isn’t a feeling I’m used to, and I question my own sobriety as we stroll closer.
Glancing up, we make eye contact. I think his eyes are a light hazel, but it’s hard to tell from so far away, and the dim lighting isn’t helping, but somehow they are so enticing. It’s like I am looking into a different person’s eyes; what I mean is they don’t seem to match the massively built man in front of me. Where his body is strong and defined, his eyes are much different; they look softer and tell a story of their own. I instantly wonder who he is and why he is here, at our table, with our new friends. He tilts his head slightly to the side. It looks almost like he is squinting. I turn my head to look behind us, but there’s no one there.
Is he squinting at me?
Before I realize I’m staring, Maci pinches the inside of my forearm. “Like what you see?” she smirks.
I shake my head, trying to clear the mischievous thoughts that are overwhelming me. I’ve never felt like I could attack someone before, at least not sexually, but I feel a sudden urge to tackle him. I don’t know what has come over me, so I try to brush it off, knowing that this rush of desire has to be the result of the alcohol.
“Ahem,” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Do I need to spell it out? You know what I asked.” She giggles into her empty glass.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just staring off into space,” I lie, knowing with one hundred percent certainty that if I told her what I was thinking moments before she’d never let me live it down.
“Come on, Gracie,” she slurs. “If you’re going to be a big, bad attorney one day, you really should learn to lie better. Frankly, your poker face sucks!”
I make a pouty face – Maci’s signature “I get what I want” look. “Can we please just drop this? It’s not like you’ll remember tomorrow.”
“At least you learned from the best. But seriously where did my shy best friend go, and who is this girl who replaced her? Tonight you’ve proven you can hang with the best of us. I think I took your bar virginity,” she teases as our heels click on the concrete floor.
“Okay, fine. He’s attractive, okay? You caught me. I was checking him out.” I blush at my own admission.
“Well, if all it takes for you to let your guard down is a sexy as hell, brunette man, I should have dragged you out sooner!”
“Whatever, come on,” I plead. It’s not that big of a deal. One night, out of my entire life, I’m acting a little of out the norm. No need to call a psych ward; I’m just having a little fun. Plus, Maci knows my gawking is innocent. She knows I haven’t been remotely close with a man in years and she knows why.
We walk the few feet left to the round table, where there are three sets of eyes watching us. I don’t know who this guy is or why my body suddenly feels like Jello, but the moment our eyes connected, I felt a yearning all the way to my core. He blinks a few times, but each time his hazel eyes open they land directly on mine. I can feel them and their energy, silently pulling me towards him. As we near the table, I can hear him clear his throat. His lips are slightly parted and I think I can see a piece of ice in his mouth. When he opens his lips to inhale, I see a small cube. His tongue slowly slides over it as he closes his mouth. I wish I was that piece of ice right now, in his mouth, being licked by his sweet tongue. My thoughts alone are enough to make my nipples harden.
Oh. My. God. Are my nipples hard right now?
I quickly look in another direction trying to distract my mind from the heaven-sent man they have been glued on.
“Hey, boys,” the brunette says as she walks over to Ramsey’s side and wraps her arm around his waist. He casually wraps his arm around her shoulder, and I know she is a sure thing. Hell, I’m not even sure he hasn’t already hit it once or t
wice. That’s how Spencer Ramsey is. He lures women in with his bad boy, tatted-up style, gets what he wants, then sends them packing with their tails between their legs like some cheap tramp. He is the epitome of a royal cock, pun intended.
“Grace, what do ya want this time?” Carson asks and the sound of her name rolling off his tongue makes my skin crawl, so I clench my jaw and bite the inside of my cheek, praying to God I don’t lose it, right here, right now.
“Umm, surprise me.” Her voice is almost so low it could be mistaken as a whisper.
“Oh, you like surprises, do ya?” he says with a playful wink, a wink that makes me want to punch my own brother, my own flesh and blood, in the face. She smiles, then casually turns her head and tries to join in on the conversation at the table. The dark-haired chick and Ramsey don’t even seem to notice her standing there.
What a wing-woman she is.
“Hey,” I say to break the silence. She hesitantly turns around to face me.
“Hello.” Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. I look over her shoulder and see Carson standing at the bar, impatiently waiting for his turn. This may be my only shot to talk to her. I know I shouldn’t; she technically is my person of interest, in more ways than one, now. But the moment I looked into her striking baby-blue eyes, I was a goner.
“I’m Carson’s older brother, Parker.” Holding my hand out in front of me, she reaches across the small, black, circular table that separates us.
“I’m Grace. It’s nice to meet you.” I grasp her hand and shake it. Her skin feels so soft compared to my callused hands. Lifting weights day in and day out has definitely taken a toll on my palms. I look up to see her staring at our exchange. I’m not sure why she looks as though she’s nervous. Her appearance is deceptive. On the outside she screams “I’m a beautiful, blonde goddess,” but on the inside I can tell that it’s an entirely different thing. She is definitely out of place here, and her body language tells me that she isn’t comfortable. I know this is wrong in more ways than one, but I want her. More than I have ever wanted someone before. But she seems so fragile standing in the crowd of rowdy onlookers, like a damsel in distress. Instead of feeling guilty, like I know I should, I feel like Superman about to rescue her and whisk her away.
A Graceful Mess Page 3
