Go For It

by Selena Blake

  His brother’s laughed and he cracked a smile.

  “Maybe a few days’ worth of clothes,” he said to Ronny. “And my computer would be great.”

  She took a deep breath as relief poured through her. While a part of her was thrilled for her own sake, another part was glad he’d be well cared for. It’s not that his brothers would do a bad job, of course, it’s just that men (in her experience) had a way of goading each other into overdoing it.

  “Not a problem,” Thomas said, ever the take charge brother. In the pecking order, he was clearly used to being at the top.

  “We, ugh, I seem to have lost my cell during the accident.” He smoothed his hands down his thighs.

  “We’ll take care of it. Anything else?”

  “His shampoo,” Gretchen chimed in while she perused the latest issue of DIY magazine. “Unless he wants to smell like apples for the rest of the week.”

  That made the men snicker. “I thought it smelled like an orchard in here,” Ronny teased.

  “I was hoping it was apple pie,” Thomas quipped. “I was looking forward to a slice.”

  “Hey, I’m the injured one. I should be the one getting pie.”

  Gretchen sighed good naturedly and shook her head. Would this easy going camaraderie ever get old? Would she ever tire of having a house full of people, keeping her company, teasing her? She truly hoped not.

  “Sorry, gentlemen. It’s spaghetti and meatballs with chocolate cake for dessert.” She flipped the page and studied a blurb about replacing her hot water heater with a more efficient model.

  Around her, the room had gone quiet and she looked up slowly, glancing first at Ronny, then Thomas and finally Greg. All three men stared at her with matching expressions of surprise: brows lifted, lips parted ever so slightly.

  Why were they staring at her as if she’d grown an extra head?

  “What?”

  None of them spoke.

  “Is that okay? I can make something else.” Frantically she tried to think of what else she had on hand that would feed three hungry men.

  “That’s what mom used to make for Sunday dinners,” Greg said quietly.

  “That’s our favorite,” Ronny added, his voice sounding a little strange.

  Gretchen remembered, now that they’d mentioned it. She’d attended a few of those dinners during her college days.

  A tendril of unease slipped through her and her stomach did a cartwheel. It was Sunday. Was it taboo to fix spaghetti and meatballs on Sunday? Sacred or something?

  “That sounds wonderful,” Thomas said.

  Gretchen exhaled and all three Fairchild men smiled at her. Holy smokes, that was potent. She needed more oxygen. Space. Room to breathe. Why did her skin feel so tight? And why was Greg looking at her like he wanted to hug her?

  “Well, you’re welcome to stay for dinner. The more the merrier. I’ll go get started.”

  “We should run by Greg’s condo,” Thomas said, rising the same time she did.

  “Good idea.” Ronny pushed to his feet and joined his brother in the front hall. “Is there anything we can get you? I hate that we’re imposing like this.”

  “You’re not imposing. How about an extra bag of salad mix and some garlic bread. I have a feeling you three could clean out my breadbox.”

  Ronny smiled and nodded and then they were gone. She felt like she could breathe again.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  She spun around and focused on Greg who’d lifted his legs onto the couch and was massaging the muscle just above his knees.

  “This?”

  “Adopt my whole family,” he said flatly.

  If he’d thrown a glass of water in her face, she couldn’t have been more surprised.

  “Is that what I’m doing?” she asked as tears sprang to her eyes. Darn. She must be PMSing. Normally a terse word didn’t make her blink. But when those words came from Greg’s lips…

  So she was happy to have some company. To have someone to help and take care of. It made her feel useful. Why was that a bad thing?

  “Gretchen–” He broke off as she escaped to the kitchen.

  She was feeling punchy, a little bruised and didn’t want to say something she’d regret like ‘next time I’ll be sure to leave your fine fanny in the hospital to rot.’

  It wasn’t like he’d follow her. Greg wasn’t going to hobble down her hall and apologize for hurting her feelings. She had a better chance of winning the lottery next week.

  She crossed her fingers and said a quick little prayer for that. She’d love to be able to spend more time on her volunteer projects. And really start her business. It made her day to provide beautiful designs that made people happier in such simple ways.

  After a steadying breath that managed to hold the tears back a little more, she opened the pantry and stared at the contents. Stared and stared until her vision blurred once more and she couldn’t make out croutons from crackers. She bit the inside of her lower lip and told herself to get it together. She couldn’t be a wreck when his brother’s got back. She didn’t want anyone to see her with tears rolling down her cheeks like a ninny.

  What she wouldn’t give for a big bottle of wine right now. But there was nothing to be done about that now. She had dinner to make and getting sauced before using a sharp knife wasn’t a good idea.

  Luckily, spaghetti was one of her favorite things to eat so she always had a good stock of noodles on hand. And once every few months she’d make up a giant pot of sauce along with a few dozen meat balls and freeze them. She peered into the freezer, hoping that she still had plenty.

  The burst of cold air perked her up.

  She pulled three gallon sized bags of spaghetti sauce and another full of meatballs from the freezer and closed the door with her shoulder. After putting the bounty on the counter she used her fingers to count. Her, plus Greg, Thomas and Ronny. Four. But Trevor and JJ would probably get here right in the middle of dinner, so another two. Plus Joe. She couldn’t forget Joe.

  The bodyguard was a little brooding for her taste, but then, she supposed that being able to stare a bad guy into submission had its advantages. So, seven for dinner then.

  Once she had the sauce on to heat, she turned back to the pantry for the croutons and pasta but the tears were still in her way. She swiped at them impatiently, annoyed with herself. What was wrong with her tear ducts today?

  He’d been short with her. So what? She took a steadying breath and reminded herself that she was turning over a new leaf. She had no time for tears or regrets. No man was going to want a quivering, self-conscious woman.

  “Am I really so unlovable?”

  Greg’s voice startled her and she spun around, almost careening into him. He’d braced one hand against the cheap laminate counter top and was leaning on it heavily. Even in a set of slept-in-sweats with dishevelled hair, he was sexier than any man she’d ever seen. And three days’ worth of scruff on his jaw? Who knew she’d find that so attractive?

  But mostly, it was the pain in his eyes that drew her.

  “Wha-t?” Gretchen stammered.

  “Earlier, when you snatched your hand back and dissolved into giggles.”

  She stared deep into his eyes, took in the slight frown turning his lips down.

  “No,” she whispered honestly. “I think you’re perfectly lovable.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I’m sorry. I was an ass. You’ve been nothing but sweet and caring and I was rude just now.” He looked as miserable as she felt.

  He stepped forward slowly, closing the distance between them trapping her between the door and his impressive chest. She sucked in a startled breath when he reached out and swiped a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. The action was intimate, the air between them thick. Somehow she resisted the almost overwhelming urge to lean into his touch.

  “My brothers will damage my other leg when they find out I made you cry.”

  She closed her eyes and
her nose twitched. It must be nice to be so cared for. To have respect and honor demanded of you. To have so much pride in yourself and your family.

  It would be nice to have someone hold you and cuddle you and reassure you and wipe your tears.

  But the thought of any more harm coming to him, even if it was just a dress down...she couldn’t stand it.

  “Then we won’t tell them.” She opened her eyes and pegged him with a steady look that broached no argument. Quickly, she swiped at her cheeks until the last remnant of moisture was gone. Once that was done she pasted on a brave smile and licked her lips.

  Greg’s eyes tracked the movement and he leaned closer, crowding her, overwhelming her senses. He continued staring at her lips as his hand slid from her cheek into her hair. Heat and desire coiled in her belly and she lifted her hands to his chest. There was no way she’d push him away; she craved the promise in his eyes. A kiss. Passion. Fireworks.

  He ducked his head, blotting out the overhead light. As his lips touched hers every thought fled her brain. They stayed like that, lip against lip, for a long moment and pleasure ricocheted through her system.

  More.

  She flexed her fingers against his chest and he groaned. Gretchen pulled back immediately, an apology tumbling out.

  “Stop apologizing,” he muttered and sought her lips again.

  The dark, demanding tone allowed no rebuttal, no back tracking. Just complete obedience. Did he know she would follow wherever he led? Did he know all he had to do was ask?

  Her shoulder blades touched the pantry door and he braced a hand against it, just to the left of her hip. He trapped her there with his body; the close proximity left nothing to the imagination. His muscles were as hard and built as she’d always suspected.

  He deepened the kiss, not so much asking for entrance as storming his way through. Seeking, searching, invading her senses until there was nothing left but him. Him and his hands, his mouth and tongue. And heaven help her, she was right there with him jumping head first into lust.

  Why didn’t he touch her? Didn’t he want to? She was dying to get her hands on him, to explore as she had in her fantasies but settled for one hand lightly braced against his magnificent chest while the other curled around his lower back. She held him carefully, ever aware of his accident even though he seemed like he’d momentarily forgotten all his injuries.

  He severed the kiss and took a stiff step back. Gretchen sucked in a lungful of air and saw him do the same. Blue eyes blazed into hers and she wanted to call him back, to feel his lips on hers, his hands on her skin. But he braced a hand against the counter and pulled the other down his face.

  “Sorry. I got–”

  “Who’s apologizing now?” she asked, almost choking on the words. He couldn’t apologize for one of the best moments of her life. He just couldn’t.

  The shaky breath she inhaled was sharp and made her lungs burn. He stared down at her, his gaze searching her face and by the look of his chest rising and falling, he was just as out of air as she was. A half a dozen heartbeats later he took a single step back. He was maybe a foot farther away but that distance was like a chasm.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked.

  Though he sounded completely sincere, his gaze was locked on her lips.

  “Rest. Your brothers will be back to wear you down shortly.”

  He stared at her for a long moment before he nodded and turned for the door.

  She watched his retreating back, alternately astonished that he’d followed her to apologize, that he’d kissed her so thoroughly and then apologized for that too. It wasn’t a simple attraction like she’d felt before. His closeness had made her whole body flush with heat. That had never happened before, not with her first boyfriend and not with that mistake two summers ago. No, this was different, purely physical of course. But the kind of thing she’d only read about in books and then snickered at the ridiculousness of it.

  The water had just come to a boil when she heard Ronny’s voice in the entryway. It didn’t surprise her how much she adored the chaos. Just the sound of voices coming down the hall eased the tightness in her chest.

  “Salad and garlic bread delivery,” Ronny called as he stepped into the kitchen. She swiped at her cheeks to make sure that all remnants of her tears were gone and turned toward him. His arms were laden with bags.

  She turned from where she’d been stirring the sauce. “Are you planning for an army?”

  Ronny chuckled in that happy go lucky way of his and proceeded to unload bags of chips, another twelve pack of beer, two baguettes of French bread. Was that salsa? And ice cream? Had she been starving Greg and not even realized it?

  “And this is for you. You might need it.” He handed her a bottle of wine. “I don’t know if it’s any good or not. You know, I’m a beer guy.”

  She felt a little like she’d been caught up in a whirl wind. Ronny had so much energy.

  He opened the fridge and started piling stuff in. On one hand, she liked how he made himself at home. Easy going people like him were always fun to be around. But on the other, her system was a shocked and overloaded by so much…testosterone.

  “Hey Greggo. You want a beer?” he called once the counter was clear and everything was put away.

  “Ronny–” she scolded.

  He turned toward her with an eyebrow quirked up.

  “He’s on pain medication.”

  “Oh.” He grabbed a brew for himself and called “nevermind. Like your hair by the way,” he said just before he stalked back down the hall.

  Gretchen shook her head, clearing the disbelief. Mixing, adjusting, or failing to complete a dosage of medication was not something Gretchen messed around with. But to be fair, Ronny probably hadn’t known that Greg had a prescription.

  She debated taking Greg a fresh drink but was having enough trouble controlling her emotions without being in the same room. Giving herself a few moments, she stirred the sauce, pleased that the packages of frozen sauce had melted so quickly.

  “Everything all right in here?” Thomas asked from the doorway.

  She shot him a quick smile and noticed his gaze on her hands where she was ripping open two boxes of pasta. Or trying to, rather. Her hands shook but she chalked it up to the fact that her body was still zinging from Greg’s kiss.

  “Everything’s dandy. Should be ready in twenty minutes,” she told him.

  She felt his gaze on her but refused to give into the urge to glance over her shoulder at him. The middle Fairchild brother was far too watchful and all-seeing. Of the three, he was the most quiet and reserved. And she often noticed him sitting back and taking stock of everything. Being the only person in his line of sight was a bit disconcerting.

  “You’ve been crying,” he murmured. Not accusing, but simply stating a fact.

  She wasn’t going to deny it. Facts were facts. “It’s just PMS.” And a whole host of other things she didn’t want to examine today.

  “Something Greg said?”

  She sighed as she straightened her shoulders, ready to defend the man on her sofa. “He’s injured, on heavy medication and not thinking clearly. I think we can give him a pass, don’t you?” she asked, raising a brow.

  Gretchen wasn’t going to mention the kiss. She shouldn’t have gotten so carried away or let emotions enter the picture.

  He studied her for another long moment and this time she met his gaze head on. His eyes were lighter and greyer than Greg’s and his brows were a little thinner. There seemed to be a constant pinch between them as if he was always thinking hard about something.

  He nodded slowly, as if he was still convincing himself. “What can I do to help? I’m pretty good at toasting bread.”

  His offhand comment surprised her and she laughed softly. “By all means. Help yourself. I was just about to start on the salad.”

  They worked side by side for the next few minutes. Him, warming the oven, slicing it into hunks, slathering it with
butter. And her washing lettuce, slicing veggies, tossing it all together while she carefully sidestepped one Thomas Fairchild.

  As he waited for the butter to melt, he leaned against the doorframe. She glanced over at him as she tossed the salad with her hands. He was right off the cover of a GQ magazine. From his dark jeans and laceless sneakers to the sweater and button-up shirt. He kept his hair on the short side and didn’t have a single strand out of place.

  He projected an aura of control and intensity. From what she knew about him, he was a sought after accountant and was the youngest partner in the firm.

  “You got your hair cut.”

  It was a statement, not a question. The lettuce fell from her fingers.

  “I’m surprised you noticed,” she murmured, tucking a sheaf of the newly colored locks behind her ear. Greg hadn’t commented on her new do and he’d been living under her roof for two days. But then again, Thomas seemed to see everything. Even Ronny had noted the change which made her wonder if Greg was simply that aloof or maybe…maybe he didn’t like it?

  “That story earlier,” he said, stepping closer.

  She knew exactly what he was talking about and used salad dressing as excuse to escape his scrutiny.

  “It was true, wasn’t it?”

  Gretchen knew what he was asking but kept her gaze carefully fixed on the salad.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes.

  She glanced over his shoulder at the empty hallway. It wasn’t that she thought Greg would be standing there or could hear her from the living room…

  “Don’t tell him.”

  “Why haven’t you?” Thomas pressed, hedging closer.

  She took a step back and put the spaghetti noodles into the boiling water. Once that was done she wiped down the countertops. They didn’t really need cleaning, but she needed to focus on something other than the disturbingly observant man in her kitchen.

  He covered her hand with his, halting her movements. She closed her eyes, knowing there was no escape.

  “I was going to. At the Super Bowl party. But…”

  “But?”

  “He chose Baby,” she whispered. She’d meant to say that he’d left with Baby before she got the chance. But her mind kept going back to that day and she watched him walk up the stairs, Baby’s hand in his, over and over again. Greg had said nothing happened but that didn’t change the crushing fact that he’d been attracted to her best friend.