I Can Fix That

I sniffled, trying to calm myself down. “No, it’s okay. I’ll drive there.”

“No. It’s dark out, and you’re crying. I’m not letting you drive. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there.”

Sure enough, nine minutes later, a concerned and disheveled Grant was at my door, ready to whisk me away.

Grant opened his arms and enveloped me as I fit formally into his presence.

I sniffed in his chest, hoping it wasn’t too obvious, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” He brushed my hair and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Shhh. It’s all right, Hart. Let’s go.”

We made our way to his truck, with his hands never leaving my body the whole drive to his home. Pulling down his street, he nodded his head to his home. He had a long gravel driveway to a vast house sitting at its end.

I followed Grant inside the oversized brick house in utter amazement, looking around the gorgeous interior. This sight put my apartment to shame, and I immediately felt insecure about the eclectic treasures in my place. “Grant…I…” I took a look around the open living space connecting the kitchen and the living room. The vaulted ceilings made the house feel bigger.

“I can’t believe you live here. This is gorgeous. I am so embarrassed about you even stepping foot in my place.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It wasn’t always this nice. I got a reasonable price and figured I’d flip it for a good profit. I ended up loving it by the time I was done, so I decided to keep it.”

The house looked like an interior decorator had furnished it. It held a masculine but modern look to it with contrasting colors of white and navy with wooden accents. It was so very Grant. I placed my jacket on the closest rack, leisurely walking through the house. There was one thing I noticed that was off.

“You have no pictures up?” The house was beautiful but almost cold. It held no personal belongings, no novelties or trinkets like my place. There was no personality to it; it was practically dry.

“I just never got around to it. I hired a staging company to come fix the furnishing and just never added anything to it.” He walked beside me, giving me a tour of the rest of the house. My heart dropped slightly, thinking Grant didn’t feel the need to personalize anything in the house. Everything was neatly placed. There was nothing awry or cluttered. If there weren’t any furniture, I would think the place was vacant.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?” I stilled, not wanting to give him all the details of my family issues. “My mom keeps pressuring me to sell the house, and she’s been harassing me harder about it lately. She thinks that I don’t understand the whole story. I ignored her calls, and she showed up at my apartment.” My voice was shaky, and I felt like I would cry again at any moment. I sucked back at my throat, trying to sound as normal as possible. “She’s just difficult, is all.” I won’t elaborate since she made terrible comments about him and his work.

He brushed my hair again, soothing me back into a calm state. Instead of pushing for more details, he quietly says, “Come on, I’ll show you around.” He placed my hand in his and proudly walked me through the house, explaining what used to be there versus what the room held now.

He demonstrated how he took out walls to open things up and how much work he put into the old electrical. We finished downstairs, and he pulled me up the stairs to show me his guest bedroom and office connected to a bathroom. The room was charcoal gray, and it reminded me of something I would see in magazines at the doctor’s office.

Finally, he walked me to the primary bedroom. The bed was neatly made. There were only two nightstands and a dresser placed perfectly against the wall. There was a mirror in the corner of the room facing the bed, and my mind immediately went to a dirtier place.

My cheeks flushed, thinking about the previous comments about Grant’s reputation. He has a new girl with him every weekend. He is known for his one-night stands. Don’t get attached; he won’t let you come over more than once.

Grant must have picked up on my discomfort because he stopped talking halfway through his explanation of where they found the fancy rug.

I masked my affliction with a slight grin toward him and decided to make a joke to cover the silence. “So this is where Grant Dawes takes all his latest conquests, right?”

Instead of giving me his bright smile or acting amused in any way, he quickly turned serious. “June. I have never brought a woman to this house. I hope you understand that.” My heart leaped out of my chest. Did he mean that? Or was this another pick-up line he used on his other…dates?

“Are you just saying that?”

He looked me in the eyes; his eyebrows came down, and worry spread on his face. “I would never lie to you.”

The promise ran deep for someone who claimed to not do relationships, but it was still comforting me.

“It’s just everyone says….” I lengthen my words, scared to finish the sentence and offend him.

He sighed deeply, “I know what they say, Hart. I haven’t been with anyone for… let’s just say in a long time.”

Guilt heated in my chest, I should have known better than to believe the Lakeshore rumors. But I had heard enough crazy stories through the town over the years that I was unsure of what to believe from the locals.

I slowly approached him and placed both my hands on his chest. He slid his palms to the edges of my hips. My fingers traced small circles over his collarbone and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I like having you here. It feels…natural.” I moved my hands up behind his neck and pulled him down to kiss me. His lips pressed against mine, and I suddenly felt at home.

His hands lowered down to my backside, and he drew me closer. I pushed my chest against his in desperation, and I earned a groan from his lips in return. I scrunched the bottom of his shirt in my hands and pulled, gesturing to him to take it off. He left my lips just long enough to reach his hands behind his shoulder to remove the garment. He placed one hand on my jaw and the other on my waist, kissing me harder than ever.