Marco remained quiet as we spoke, watching us both earnestly.
“Then we will bring the meal to you,” Mr. Casale said with a nod. “If you have no objection, we will have dinner packaged and brought here tomorrow night. Then you will have no need to cook after another long day, nor go out when you wish to relax at home.” He picked up one of the bags of groceries and started up the steps. “Marco.” He pointed to the other bag and the child grabbed it and followed. I had no choice but to follow as well.
I doubted he would take no for an answer so I agreed to his offer with a thank-you.
The crunching of glass had Mr. Casale stopping, lifting his foot. “What is this?”
Looking up at the front of my house, I saw that my outdoor lights were broken and the glass scattered on the steps and concrete. I had a small light by the door that was connected to a timer, turning on and off with dusk and dawn, but I also had a motion sensor light off to one side. Simon had installed it after he moved in so that it lit up the side of both of our houses.
“What on earth?” I said to no one in particular. Shit, what a mess! I wanted to swear out loud, but I was used to tempering those words around kids. “The lights are all broken.”
Mr. Casale frowned and Marco watched both of us, unsure.
I sighed, then remembered myself. “Here, sorry.”
I unlocked the front door, taking the grocery bags from both of them, sticking them inside the door.
“Has this happened before?” Mr. Casale asked, glancing down the street one way, then the other, his look shrewd.
“No,” I grumbled, tossing up my hands. “Just leave it. I’ll sweep it up so no one cuts themselves, but will get new bulbs after work tomorrow.”
Mr. Casale shook his head. “I will have this taken care of for you.” When I was about to object, he cut me off. “I will have my son, Frank, take care of replacing the lights for you while you are working. He will be here at seven thirty tomorrow night to make sure the work is acceptable and bring your meal. All right?”
Tilting my head, I eyed the man, trying to read him. I didn’t want to play poker with him. “I have a feeling you’re going to get your way, aren’t you?”
I glanced down at Marco for confirmation and he just grinned, a dimple creasing his cheek. “He always gets his way,” he whispered, but Mr. Casale heard and chuckled.
“Yes, I will have my way with this. You took care of Marco, so now we take care of you.”
***
By the time I’d showered, eaten and swept up the glass, it was nine. Throwing on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top in deference to the heat, I finally had time to check my phone. I stood at my kitchen counter and saw that I had another text from Gray. My heart rate sped up and I felt giddy at the sight of his name. I was smiling in my quiet kitchen. It was a new feeling for me, this excitement about a guy, and I liked it. It was thrilling, and definitely flattering. Gray was hot, a different league entirely than any other man I’d met, and he was interested in me. Me! Why, I had no idea, but I was going to see what happened, even though that concept was completely unfamiliar to me. I didn’t just see what happened about anything. I was a mother and a planner and…no, that was the old Emory. Now, I just went with it. With fumbling fingers, I eagerly pulled the message up.
Thor said I shouldn’t have given you crabs on the first date. I’m trying to figure out how that’s possible since we didn’t even kiss.
Eyes widening at his words, I covered my smile with my fingers. God, why did he always have to say just the right thing? I’d been unsure of what the next steps were with him, but he’d made it easy for me to respond. He wasn’t playing games, he was just going with it, too. I typed quickly, my thumbs flying over the screen, biting my lip I went.
Does this mean I can’t get that kiss I’ve been thinking about all day?
My finger hovered over the Send button only briefly before I scrunched my eyes shut and pressed down. There. I did it. I paced over to the cupboard and got down a glass, filled it with ice and water from the fridge dispenser. God, I wasn’t even thirsty! I paced back across the room and nibbled on my thumbnail, staring at my phone. I hadn’t lied to Gray. I had been thinking about kissing him through my entire shift. He’d said I’d be in his bed soon and the images that conjured had my nipples tightening and I felt my whole body flush at the idea. I ached between my legs in a way my vibrator was not going to soothe.
It was a miracle that my job was busy and distracting enough to keep my thoughts off getting in my car, driving over to his gym and jumping his bones. It probably wouldn’t look good for him to have a woman in scrubs come in and tackle him to the ground.
Although, in his job, being tackled to the ground was all in a day’s work. I’d done a search for him online and so much information had come up. His fights, every detail of his career, some bad stories with his father. Old photos, everything. It was obvious why he was wary of people knowing about him and their motives at meeting him. The media spun the information in ways to sell, including the baby with the film star, but I knew the real Gray, at least a little bit, to be able to separate fact from fiction.
Men sought his autograph and both sexes stood in photos with him. A picture with the champ. Women practically tossed themselves at him, scantily clad and eager to be seen and perhaps win the affections of the Grayson Green. The Green Machine. I’d laughed at that title because it didn’t suit the real him at all. A stab of jealousy had made me bitter toward the busty women in the pictures, but nowhere in his online profile did it mention girlfriends, past or present. These women, who tried to climb his body like a monkey, only had his attentions long enough for a photo. He wasn’t looking at them the way he focused his dark eyes on me. He didn’t even really see them. Just smiled for the camera, and after the brief amount of time I’d known him, I could tell the smile wasn’t even genuine.
He was good at what he did. Exceptional, actually. He was one of the best in the industry, if not ever, based on the articles.
My mind shifted to how good he was at tackling. I so needed to be tackled like he'd done in the gym, but perhaps in a bed instead. I’d been in a sex drought for years and hadn’t cared all too much. I’d had my vibrator to keep me company and been reasonably satisfied. I barely remembered when sex had been decent with Jack. Last night I’d tossed and turned, wondering what Gray’s lips felt like, whether he’d be gentle or demanding, if he’d press me up against the wall while he was kissing me and—
My cell rang and I jumped a foot. Gray.
“You want to kiss me?” he asked, his voice a deep grumble. I practically melted into a pool of goo at the sound and I loved the fact that he asked that without even saying hello.
“Um, crap.” I shut my eyes, took a quick breath and said the truth. “Yes.”
The line was quiet for a minute, but I could hear music in the background. Based on the crazy beat, I had to assume he was in the gym. Or out at a dance club, but I couldn’t picture that with him. “Shit, Emory. That one word is the hottest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”