We work for a couple more hours getting caught up, for the most part. The phone has finally stopped ringing and I’m doing my best not to feel sad about that. I can’t be. There’s no room for Gray in my life, even if he wasn’t a player.
“Want some lunch from the diner?” Jackson asks, and I’m not really in the mood, but I say yes anyway.
“Sure. Chicken salad?”
“Ugh, rabbit food. I expect better of you, Claude,” Jackson says, using my name because he knows it irritates me. In response, I flip him off. He’s laughing as he slams the door behind him. I busy myself picking up tools and trying to clear my head when the object of my thoughts makes an appearance.
“Your phone not working, sweet lips?”
My head jerks up at Gray’s voice. He’s wearing a worn Metallica t-shirt and jeans and he looks like anything but a golfer, which pisses me off. His hair is ruffled with these soft curls on top of his head that are starting to hang loosely because his close cut is growing out. Somehow, it looks even better on him now—another thing to piss me off.
“I hated that nickname back at the bar. It made me write you off immediately. I should have listened to my gut,” I tell him.
“Sweet lips? But it fits you, because woman, your lips are the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”
“I guess I should be flattered because from what I’ve read, that covers a lot of territory.”
“Aww. You’ve googled me. I guess I should be flattered.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, going back to picking up tools and ignoring him. It works pretty good until he comes up behind me and wraps his arm around me, pulling my back into him and not letting me move. I try to jerk away, but he still doesn’t let me go.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Asking you if your phone is working,” he whispers against my shoulder. I can feel the heat of his breath, even against my coveralls, but it’s not enough. I suddenly wish I didn’t have them on. I wish I didn’t have anything on. I wish it was just the two of us, skin against skin…
“You need to let me go. You’ll get filthy,” I tell him, stressing the word he used when I worked on his vehicle.
“But CC, I love getting dirty with you.”
The words piss me off because it sounds like a line. Then I realize who I’m dealing with and admit that everything out of his mouth is probably a line. We had a one-night stand and that was all it was and that’s over. Just because we had a good lunch date… an awesome lunch date… and just because he made me smile, and just because he makes me laugh and his kisses melt the clothes from my body, none of that means anything. It’s just a game. It’s meaningless and I might be tempted to bite for however long it lasts until he leaves, but I will not become one of his play toys. I am not my mother.
I bring my elbow back and deliver a blow to his gut. It’s weak and nowhere near what I’m capable of, but it’s enough so that he gets the point and lets me go.
“My phone works just fine.”
“Then why aren’t you answering it?”
“Gee. Maybe because I don’t want to talk to you?”
“Bullshit.”
“Whatever.”
“You wanted to talk to me enough to give me your damn number.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I…”
“Before you saw shit on the internet about me.”
“Maybe. Is it true?”
“What if it is? What’s it matter? It happened before I met you. Hell, we’ve only really had one date. Why is your nose out of joint about it?” he asks, sounding agitated.
“Maybe I just don’t want to see my picture on the internet as another notch in Grayson Lucas’s bed post.”
“I’m fine with that.”
“So, if you don’t mind—Wait. What did you say?”
“I don’t particularly want you to be plastered in tabloids either. Believe it or not, I don’t even enjoy that shit.”
“For a man who doesn’t enjoy it, there sure are plenty of them there.”
“And most of them are put up there by the women in question.”
“What? Why?”
“Because believe it or not, some women live for being seen as one of Gray Lucas’s exploits.”
“Gross.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, you know what I mean.”
“I do. Which is why I want to go out with you. Well, one of the reasons. I want to get to know you more, CC. Is that so bad? You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met and, more importantly, I actually like you.”
“And it has nothing to do with sex.”
“It has everything to do with it.”
“Which is exactly why my answer is no.”
He growls and moves back towards me, pushing me up against the concrete wall and holding my hands against it so I can’t push him away. My eyes are captured by his and I swallow at the look of intensity on his face.
“Gray…”
“Can you deny that you don’t remember the weekend we shared and want more of it? That the kiss we shared a few days ago doesn’t haunt you? That you don’t wake up in the middle of the night wishing I was there so you could wrap your legs around me and pull me deep inside of you…?”