“Not yet, I’m getting a few things ready for a new display.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. You can congratulate me in person.”
“Really? You’re coming here?”
“Is that okay?”
“Sure! I mean, of course.” Her voice goes squeaky. “My brother’s here. Is that okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well, I don’t want it to be weird… and he’s a little, um, I mean… Well…” The more she tries to explain, the more flustered she becomes, which is completely adorable.
“Grace, it’ll be fine. See you soon.”
The rest of the drive, I go over in my mind how I’ve decided to handle
this. Grace is an expert in the art of diversion. In the brief time we had two years ago, I didn’t notice because I had no idea she’d disappear. But now, I’m wiser.
The last few days, even though our conversations have been short, she’s actively kept the subject on my trip, the game, or me. The two times I’ve asked about her, she’s responded quickly and deflected.
That stops today.
We pull up to Monroe Gallery, and I wrestle with an unusual feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Is it nerves? What the hell?
“Mr. Bennett, would you like me to wait here?” The driver turns to face me.
“Yes, but I’m not sure for how long.”
“It doesn’t matter. The other Mr. Bennett requested my service for the day.”
Shaw is really aiming for the favorite brother award today.
“Thanks. I’ll be back in a while.” I shake his hand and get out, straightening my jacket.
I walk into the gallery with the unusual feeling rattling around my gut. As soon as I enter, I stop dead. The place is completely different than my first visit, and not in a good way. Boxes are piled everywhere with large crates lining every wall. There’s plastic covering the floors and the storefront windows.
All of that flies from my mind as soon as Grace steps into view. She’s wearing short cut-off jean shorts with denim fringe framing her legs. Her oversized t-shirt is hanging off one shoulder, exposing a bright blue tank top. Her hair is on top of her head with several small braids tied back off her forehead.
She’s staring at me with those violet eyes wide, biting her bottom lip.
On instinct, I hold out my arms, and she doesn’t hesitate, flying into them. I pick her up and hug her tightly as she squeals, “Congratulations,” over and over.
It feels natural to have my arms around her, holding her close. My head drops to her neck, and I inhale. The scent of body wash and lotion assaults my senses. It’s all Grace, sweet and intoxicating, and I hope like hell it’s soaking into my clothes.
She stops talking but doesn’t try to get loose. Her warm breath hits my cheek, and my cock starts to twitch, growing tight against my briefs. I try my best to clear my mind, but it’s impossible. It’s everything I can do not to start kissing on the soft skin under her ear.
“Jesus Christ, Grace, let the man go! He survived a field of men trying to take his head off. It’d suck for him to suffocate because you’ve squeezed him to death.” A deep voice comes from behind her, and she lets go, almost falling as she lands.
I recognize Logan Monroe standing in the archway with an undeniable smirk on his face. “Not to mention, you probably ruined his suit.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry.”
She makes an effort to step back, but I circle my arm around her waist, keeping her close. “Don’t apologize.”
“I’m covered in dust and spackle.”