Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell

by Codi Gary

  “Yes, I am saving myself for Megan Fox.” He bounced up and snatched her iPad. “Now, what in the hell are you hiding? Porn?”

  “Uh-huh. Boring stuff. You’ll hate it.”

  “Nah, all porn is awesome.” Eric tapped on the YouTube video and froze. “What in the hell is…”

  Gracie snatched the iPad. “What?”

  “Are you watching people pop zits?”

  “Okay, yes, I follow Dr. Pimple Popper on—”

  “Dr. Fucking What?!”

  “Dr. Pimple Popper. She is a dermatologist that posts her videos up on her YouTube channel, which I follow. She posted a new one, and I figured while I waited for you, I’d watch.”

  Eric blinked at her. “You’re gross.”

  Gracie laughed. “Shut up, a lot of people like this stuff.”

  “Seriously disturbed people!”

  “Just try it! You might like it!”

  “Nope. Nope.” He took her iPad and set it away from her. “There are things I am willing to try, but this is not one of them.”

  Gracie climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. “You’re being awfully judge-y.”

  “I’m not judging. I just don’t want to be a part of your sick fetishes.”

  She leaned over and bit his ear. “It’s not a fetish. It is entertainment. A fetish is wanting to tie you to the bed and make you follow my every command.”

  Eric’s cock jerked in response to her low, sultry tone. “Now that I’m okay with.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “There is nothing quite like a dramatic exit. And no one knows how to do it better than our favorite barista.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.

  Two days later, Gracie’s hands were shaking as she put on her mascara. She hated to admit how nervous she was, but considering she was about to attend a huge, black tie party filled with sophisticated people and not one person she knew besides Eric, she was feeling a little queasy. She wasn’t the type to get stage fright, but this was almost overwhelming.

  Eric knocked on the door, making her jump.

  “You all right in there?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be out in a second. Just finishing my makeup.”

  “Okay, but we need to be out the door in fifteen minutes.”

  Gracie rolled her eyes in the mirror, and once her lashes were long, black, and declumped, she stood back and studied her handiwork. Her blonde hair was loose in fat, wild curls, and a black pearl choker adorned her neck. Her dress was a rich green taffeta that hugged her body, plunging between her breasts with a sheer green lace covering her bare skin. The skirt hit mid-thigh with a slightly asymmetrical hem that changed into a sheer vine-embroidered mesh skirt that swung around her legs, stopping at her ankles. She wore six-inch strappy black heels and had a warm black peacoat to go over it.

  “You’ll do,” she said to herself, feeling more confident.

  After a sheer red gloss was smoothed over her lips, she stepped out of the bathroom…

  And gulped.

  Eric didn’t look like James Bond in a tux. He looked like a damn sex god from every girl’s fantasy. He stood over by the window, looking out at the city, and she let her gaze trail over him.

  When they got back to this room, she was going to enjoy unwrapping him like a Christmas present.

  Eric whistled, and her eyes shot back up to meet his.

  “Damn.”

  Just that single word, spoken in a deep, awed voice, conveyed a thousand compliments, and she smiled. “You too.”

  He grinned. “Do you have stilts on? You seem taller.”

  She lifted her skirt and turned her ankle. “Six inches puts me at five foot seven. That way, I can look most women in the eye and I don’t feel like a dwarf next to you.”

  “Baby, you are the hottest dwarf I’ve ever seen.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet. But don’t ever call me dwarf again.”

  “I was just repeating what you said.” He prowled over to her, and slipped his arms around her waist. “And for the record, I said hot too.”

  “Yeah, keep making jokes and see what it gets you.”

  His hand slid down over her rear, and he pressed against her. “I’m hoping it gets us right back here.”

  She ran her finger along his smooth jaw and teased, “Play your cards right, and we might not have to wait that long.”

  His eyes darkened, but he didn’t speak.

  “Nothing to say?”

  “I’m trying to figure out how to hide a hard-on in these pants.”

  Gracie laughed, her hand drifting down to find out he wasn’t lying.

  “I guess I shouldn’t mention then that I’ve got absolutely nothing on underneath this dress.”

  Eric groaned and squeezed her ass. “Maybe we should just skip the party and stay here.”

  Gracie pulled out of his arms. “Hell no. We came across the country to celebrate this huge accomplishment, and we are going to that party. We’re going to schmooze and drink champagne and have fun. Plus, I paid a hundred bucks for this dress, and I’m showing it off.”

  Eric held out his hand to her. “Then I suggest we get this over with.”

  * * *

  Eric tried to pretend that this wasn’t a big deal, but his nerves were on overdrive. He knew his agent and editor through email and after sitting down with them yesterday, but other than that, he felt like a pig wearing lipstick.

  At least Gracie’s hand in his kept him from backing back out the door.

  They approached the podium of the swanky restaurant, where a man with thick silver hair stood, eyeing them over his glasses.

  “Hello, can I help you?”

  “Eric Henderson and Gracie McAllister.” Eric handed the man their tickets and IDs, which he looked over carefully.

  Then he handed their IDs back with a wide smile. “Just head right, and take the elevator up to the roof. It’s the button labeled R.”

  Eric bristled, sure the man was making fun of him, but Gracie squeezed his hand. “Thank you so much.”

  When they were out of earshot, Eric asked, “Do I talk like an asshole or something? Why in the hell wouldn’t I know R stood for Roof?”

  “No, he probably tells everyone that because he’s had people ask. Don’t be so sensitive.”

  “I’m not sensitive. Pretty sure he was being an uppity son of a—”

  Gracie covered his mouth with her hand before he could finish and smiled at the elegantly dressed older couple who was already waiting for the elevator.

  “Good evening,” she said.

  “Good evening,” they said, eyeing them curiously.

  When the doors opened, he pulled her hand away and scowled at her. “What?”

  “Stop cussing and thinking everyone is out to get you. Try to act like a gentleman.” She sighed heavily. “Maybe I should have given you some etiquette lessons.”

  “The hell are you talking about?” he teased. “I ooze class.”

  Gracie rolled her eyes as they stepped onto the elevator. With just the four of them, the silence was deafening, so he broke it.

  “How’s it going?”

  The woman smiled. “It’s going very well. Where are you headed?”

  “The roof,” Gracie said, squeezing his arm. “This guy wrote a book, so we’re going to celebrate.”

  “Oh, how lovely. What’s it about?” the woman asked.

  “About the little town we live in,” Eric said.

  The elevator stopped, and as the two-people stepped out, the woman waved at them. “Good luck.”

  Gracie waved, then turned back to him with one eyebrow hiked up. “See, they were nice.”

  “Mm-hm.” Eric backed her up against the wall of the elevator and kissed the side of her neck. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and just as the elevator stopped, he pulled away.

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re such a tease.”

  The doors opened, and Eric took her hand, leading her out onto the roof. There was a table co
vered with name tags for them to pin to their shirts.

  “Your name?” the woman at the table asked.

  “Eric Henderson and Gracie McAllister.”

  The woman thumbed through the tags and held their badges out when she found them. “Here you go. Have fun, you two. Don’t forget to try the signature cocktail.”

  “What is it?” Gracie asked.

  The woman held up a glass filled with a bubbly red liquid. “They are calling it a New Year’s Dream. All I know is it tastes like heaven.”

  “Yum. I can’t wait.”

  Eric put his hand on her back to steer her away and into the crowd. He wanted a drink too, but something stronger than that girly concoction.

  “I feel like that guy in the song ‘A Jukebox and a Country Song.’”

  Gracie patted him on the arm again. “You’re doing fine. Relax. They’re just people.”

  “Not our people,” he grumbled.

  They reached the bar just as he heard his name being called. He spotted Neal hailing him and nodded. The other man started pushing his way through the crowd until he stood in front of them. Neal held out his hand in greeting.

  “Hey, Eric, you just get here?”

  Eric shook his hand. “Yeah, we just walked through the door. Figured we would grab a drink and then make the rounds.” Eric slid his arm around Gracie’s waist. “Neal, this is my girlfriend, Gracie.”

  “How are you, Neal?” she asked.

  Neal took her hand in both of his. “Jealous of this man’s good fortune. You are absolutely stunning. And where are you from?”

  “Rock Canyon, same as Eric.”

  Neal’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh, you have to tell me all about it! After reading Eric’s book, I’m so curious to see how much is the truth and what’s exaggerated.”

  Eric did not want Neal talking about the book with Gracie, especially any of the parts about her. He’d changed everyone’s name, but there were obvious correlations. And when he’d written the first draft, he’d been angry and frustrated. Now that things were better…

  Well, even though the book was a work of fiction, there were some things he definitely wanted to adjust before she read it.

  “I actually haven’t read the book yet,” she said, tossing him a disgruntled look.

  “I can send you a PDF. It’s hysterical.”

  Eric shook his head, trying to catch Neal’s attention.

  “I’d love that! Let me give you my email—”

  “I think you should read it when it’s been professionally edited, babe. You already think I’m an idiot. I don’t really want you judging my grammar,” Eric joked.

  Neal laughed. “He’s pulling your leg. It’s not that bad.”

  “Hey, if he doesn’t want me to read it, that’s okay. I can wait. Impatiently.”

  She pinched his side playfully, and Neal wagged his finger at her. “This one’s got spunk. I like it.”

  “Eric!” His editor, Vanessa Hiller stepped up and kissed him on both his cheeks. She had a blunt black bob and red lips. Other than that, she wore no makeup, and her black dress draped over one shoulder and flowed to the floor elegantly.

  She pulled away and turned her focus on Gracie. Vanessa stood several inches taller and was about five years older. “And you must be Gracie. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Yeah, I am. And you are?” Gracie asked.

  “Oh, I’m Vanessa, his new editor. Do you mind if I steal him away? There’re a few people I want him to meet, and then I’ll bring him right back.”

  Eric didn’t like leaving Gracie alone. “She can come with us—”

  “No, it’s fine.” Gracie grabbed a drink from one of the passing waiters. “This is your night. Have fun.”

  Eric tried to protest, but Vanessa was already dragging him away, and soon, Gracie was lost in the crowd.

  * * *

  Gracie was on her third drink as she listened to the man in front of her go on and on about his nonfiction novel on the wolves of Yellowstone. Unlike Eric, the man hadn’t shaved his beard, and his long gray hair was in a braid longer than hers.

  “I just think that we need to stop screwing up the world and take responsibility, you know?” the guy said.

  “Right.” Gracie scanned the crowd again for Eric, but even with his height, he was nowhere in sight. The only person she recognized was Vanessa with the long legs. She caught Gracie’s eye and started through the crowd toward her.

  Gracie got a bad feeling about the woman. Not that she was a mean girl, per se, but that she sensed Gracie didn’t belong. Like a shark that smelled blood in the water, she was circling.

  “Gracie, I see you’ve met Hugh. Hugh, I do believe Caroline was looking for you.”

  Hugh lit up and, without even saying good-bye, took off.

  Vanessa smiled after him like a fond mother. “Hugh is a rather good writer, but if he corners you, the man won’t stop talking.”

  “Yeah, I got that. Have you seen Eric?”

  “Mmm, I think he was talking to Margo in publicity last time I saw him.”

  Gracie took a long drink, finishing off her glass.

  “Is it hard?” Vanessa asked.

  “Pardon?”

  Vanessa swirled her drink between her blood-red nails. “Is it hard knowing that soon there will be a book out there with little pieces of you in it?”

  “What, you mean the Miss Know-It-All columns? I’ve read all of them, and besides, Eric said he changed all the names, so no one will know where it’s based.”

  “Except—” Vanessa pointed one of her fingers at her, “—I knew who you were right off.”

  Gracie flagged down another waiter, ignoring the racing of her heart. The woman was just messing with her. “And why is that?”

  “The way he describes you. Short. Blonde. Beautiful.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Gracie said.

  “Oh, it’s not. The book paints you in a very favorable light, for the most part. Then the ending…”

  Gracie, new glass in hand, paused with the drink halfway to her lips. “And how does the ending leave me?”

  “Oh, you haven’t read it?” Vanessa quirked her perfect Liz Taylor eyebrows. “I wouldn’t want to spoil anything. I just assumed that since you were his girlfriend, you’d have read it.”

  “Well, I haven’t, so why don’t you stop playing games and be straight with me.”

  Vanessa, for the first time, seemed uneasy, which was good. It meant the witch wasn’t stupid. “It’s just a work of fiction—”

  “Then you should have no problem telling me.”

  The woman gave her a one shouldered shrug, as if she couldn’t even muster the energy to life both. “Fine. At the end of the book, Eric leaves town…and you’re heartbroken.”

  Anger coursed through Gracie, pouring out of every pore. Which was why the steady calm of her voice was so surprising to her own ears.

  “Does he, now?”

  Chapter Thirty

  “A man’s pride can only take so much.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.

  Eric couldn’t believe he’d lost Gracie in this madhouse. When the band had started playing, he’d thought the crowd would thin a bit and he’d find her green dress like an emerald amongst the coal. But nope, and he was getting impatient. Ready to step up onto the stage and steal the lead singer’s mic in order to start calling her name.

  He walked through the doorway toward the restroom, and that was when he saw her. She was sitting on a settee, reading something on her phone. He strode over to her, elated.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Without even glancing away from her phone, she said, dryly, “Well, now you’ve found me.”

  Eric frowned at her sarcasm. Was she upset because she thought he’d ditched her? “Sorry I got pulled away and when I tried to find you, the crowd was too thick.”

  “Mmm…mmm.” Was all she said.

  Irritation swept over him. He was
already in a uncomfortable social situation; he didn’t need her getting butthurt with him because he’d gotten lost for an hour or so.

  “What are you doing? Bored with the party already?”

  Gracie’s voice came out high, almost sing songy. “Oh no, the party has been really interesting. Everyone seems reeeeally excited about your book.”

  The hairs on the back of Eric’s neck stood up at the way she drew out every word. “What have you heard?”

  Finally, her eyes met his, and he saw the hurt, the anger, and the betrayal, and cursed. “It’s not what you think,” he said.

  She slipped her phone into her clutch and shot him a disgusted look. “Really? It’s not what I think? Because what I think is it’s a revenge piece.”

  “A revenge piece? What the hell is that—”

  She broke in before he could even finish asking his question. “It’s something you write in order to inflict the maximum amount of pain on someone without actually using their name. It’s just a work of fiction, right? Not based on anyone?”

  “That’s right, I used my Miss Know-It-All column as inspiration, but the whole book is made up.”

  Gracie’s skin had taken on a crimson hue as she spoke. “Then why did your fucking editor feel like she knew me?”

  Damn it, why were women so crazy? Why would Vanessa even bring up the book with Gracie. “There was a character who’s short and blonde, but that’s all she is—”

  “No, no, that’s not all. She is also a ‘man-eater’ who toys with the hero’s emotions. She is a horrible, selfish person, and when she finally admits she’s in love with him, he leaves her. Hell, even I was cheering for him to dump her ass and the character is based on me!”

  Eric could feel other people’s eyes on them and the murmurs of a crowd forming, but he refused to look. “Gracie, please, let’s just go somewhere and talk about this.”

  “Talk about what? How you made your brother look like an idiot? Or how the majority of the town are terrible people who treat you as if you don’t matter?”

  Unable to hold his temper in check, he exploded, “It’s just a book! Just a stupid fucking book.”

  Gracie stepped into him and shoved him. “It’s a portrayal of the way you see us. Using our lives in your column was one thing, but this, right here, it’s mean. And wrong. You’re not Taylor Swift, Eric. Nobody broke your heart or laughed at you. People like and respect you. And you stomped all over them. All over me.”