"Bathroom?" he asked huskily, returning his stare to my eyes.
"Huh?" I answered. His words shook me back to reality and my pressing needs. Crap, my teeth. He almost kissed me and I'm sure my breath was rank enough to turn Medusa to stone. I clamped my hand over my mouth.
"Is that some kind of hint?" he asked in a strangled voice
"I need to brush my teeth," I mumbled around my fingers.
"Are you still high on those pills?" he asked, waiting like I was going to spout out more gibberish like I did last night.
I groaned at his words. "No, I just hate morning breath," I said, flushing. I vainly hoped the dim light from the fire would keep him from seeing my embarrassment. "Please stop looking at me like I just climbed out from under some gross rock," I begged, hoping he would just let the whole pill thing go. Couldn't it be like going to Vegas? What happens when Jamie takes pills stays at blah blah blah.
He stared at me for a moment before coming to the conclusion that I wasn't high. I was getting close to the point of becoming defensive by the way he was looking at me, but something in his stare struck a chord in me. It was almost as if he cared, which confused me, but still fueled my feelings of desire for him. The desire that had been dormant for the past five years since we'd last seen each other was now smoldering.
We continued to stare, both nervously waiting to see who would make the first move. I felt something akin to pain with need. I strained closer, willing him silently to ease the burning inside me. A log in the fireplace settled loudly, startling us both. The moment was broken like coming to from a hypnotic trance.
What was I doing here? Talk about playing with fire. Everything in me knew I was asking to get burned. It was time to get a grip. "Um, bathroom," I reminded him, seeking to get a little distance between us. As nice as it was to languish in his arms while I admired his physique, it was hard to want to go any further without wondering if I would only get hurt in the long run.
"Right," he said, heading for the bathroom. It didn't surprise me to see how luxurious the bathroom was in our suite. Admittedly, I was a definite bathroom slut and this one didn't disappoint. A large granite counter with grey smoke-colored glass bowl double sinks lined one wall. The best feature was the old-fashioned claw-footed tub that begged for long bubble baths, especially for two, judging by the size. This whole suite was like an aphrodisiac.
Grant placed me on the counter between the sinks, pulling my eyes from the tub where I was picturing us naked together. I was acting like a walking sex-deprived disaster. If I didn't come to grips with my feelings I would drive myself nuts. "I'll get your bathroom stuff," Grant said, seemingly oblivious to my erotic thoughts.
"Can you manage okay, or do you need my help?" he asked, returning quickly. He looked comfortable with either answer.
"I got it," I gulped. Even if I did think sharing a hot bubble bath together was a possibility, I couldn't imagine the best way to get us in the mood would be for him to help me use the potty.
"Just be careful. With your luck these last few days, it wouldn't be a far stretch for you to fall and really break something this time."
"Bite your tongue," I muttered, even though it was hard to deny his observation. Never in my whole life had I ever had such a string of bad luck. Maybe it wasn't me. He could be the bad luck charm for all we knew.
He laughed at my words and closed the door to give me my privacy. It took a lot of hobbling on one leg, but I was finally able to brush my teeth, wash my face, use the toilet and fix my hair so it no longer resembled a bird's nest. By the time I finished, I almost felt like I had completed a workout. I was ready to cut off my foot so I wouldn't have to deal with the pain.
Grant was standing patiently outside the bathroom when I opened the door. I was both disappointed and relieved to see that he had put on clothes. He had also opened the heavy drapes that I didn't realize covered a long bay window with a built-in window seat. The sky was still covered in clouds, but I could tell the sun was beginning to rise. Of course, it was still snowing. Grant carried me back to the bed, which he had made while I was in this bathroom. It was seriously too bad he had commitment issues, because he would make someone an amazing husband someday.
"Are you hungry?"
My stomach growled in response to his question, making him smile. "I'll take that as a yes. You should be hungry since you snored through dinner."
"I don't snore," I retorted.
"Are you sure about that?"
"No one's ever mentioned it before," my voice trailed off. Did I snore? It had been a long time since I had an overnight guest.
"Probably because I made it up," he said grinning at me as he headed for the door. Grabbing a pillow off the bed, I chucked it at the door, even though he was already long gone. He would never outgrow teasing me.
I switched on the lamp on the table and picked up my phone that Grant must have charged for me since my battery was at one hundred percent. It was still too early to call my parents, but I would have to in a little while. I didn't relish breaking the news to my mom that for the first time ever, I would not be home for Christmas. Scrolling through my social media apps, I made sure I hadn't missed anything in my absence. For the most part, everything was quiet on that front. I guess everyone was in holiday mode, which was fine with me. It was kind of nice to take a break from it all.
Setting my phone to the side, I laid back on the pillows. It felt strange to not be obsessing over my blog. For two years, I had slept, ate and breathed nothing but my cooking show. Even when I agreed to come home, my plan was to work while I was there. I had an entire Christmas segment worked out with different holiday treats that were sure to woo your man. Now, it almost felt like my perspective was changing, or was at least blurred. Maybe it was the nearly life-altering plane crash or the car accident during a snowstorm that could have turned tragic, or my sprained ankle. Or for that matter, even the night in the roach motel. I could laugh now at how crazy the last forty-eight hours had been, but it also had me thinking about where my life was going. Of course, I neglected to add the most important thing to the list, which was Grant. Up until two days ago, I had been able to successfully make it through long stretches of time without giving him any thought. Even if he did come to mind, it was only the fact that he was probably married to Amanda with a couple of kids. Knowing that wasn't the case changed everything.
"Sorry it took so long. Maggie insisted on making you a full breakfast," Grant said, interrupting my thoughts. He carried a tray loaded with food.
"Holy gluttony. She didn't have to do that," I protested, although the tantalizing scents had my growling stomach thinking otherwise.
"I tried to tell her that, but I think she felt bad since you missed dinner last night. Which, by the way, might have been the best pot roast I've ever had," he said, placing the tray in the middle of the bed between us. He handed one of the loaded plates to me.
"So, tell me what's been going on in Woodfalls," I said, taking a bite of bacon.
"Doesn't your mom keep you up on everything?"
"Not really. Sometimes I think she's hoping that by being close-mouthed I'll come home more often. She'll throw out little teasers every once in a while, but won't embellish on them, even when I press her. She's a jerk," I said affectionately.
"Sounds smart to me. What do you want to know?"
"Everything," I answered.
And that's what he did. He filled me in on who was dating who, who had recently had kids, who had passed away, and of course, my cousin Tressa's latest scandals. I loved Tressa to death, but I swear, she wasn't happy unless she was stirring up something. Our conversation continued after we finished eating. He was turning into an easy person to talk to when he wasn't teasing me. I'm sure a lot of it had to do with our common bond of knowing all the same people. I was surprised to discover we shared a lot of the same likes and dislikes. It seemed crazy that even growing up around someone in the same small town didn't mean you knew everything about them.
"What about your dad? How's he liking retirement?" I asked, sliding my plate away so I would stop nibbling on the leftovers. My stomach was threatening mutiny if I tried to eat one more morsel of food.
"Well, considering he still comes in almost every day, I'd hardly call it retirement. I think he missed the memo on what retirement is supposed to entail. I guess I can't blame him though. The lumber yard has been his whole life since he was kid. My grandpa was the same way. I'm sure when it's my turn it'll be my son griping one day."
"Your son? You want kids?" I asked, completely floored.
"Sure I want kids. The more, the better as far as I'm concerned."
Seriously? Mr. Non-Commit wanted kids? Did he understand that kids were the mother of all commitments?
"What? You don't want kids?" he asked intently.
"Of course I want kids. I want a whole houseful, but I'm shocked you want them."
"Why? You think I'd make a lousy dad?" he asked, snagging the last piece of bacon from my plate.
"Of course not, but you do realize you'll actually have to bite the bullet and commit to someone?"
"Duh, really?" he said, looking offended.
"Hey, don't get all offended. You're the one who said you couldn't commit."
"What? When did I say something like that?" he asked incredulously.
"When you were talking about Amanda getting married," I answered, amazed at how dense he was being.
"I said she wanted things from me I wasn't willing to give."
"Exactly. Considering she got married to someone else, I'm guessing what she wanted was marriage."
"Right," he answered, looking at me like I was the one talking in circles and not him.
"Which would mean you were unable to commit," I said through gritted teeth, plopping back on my pillows. He was so infuriating at times. I couldn't tell if he was messing with me.
"Commit to her being the point."
"Ooooh, you didn't want to marry her," I said, finally understanding. I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth, mulling his words over. He wasn't the commitment-phobe I had portrayed him to be. He just hadn't found his "someone." I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. It shouldn't matter to me. But it did.
"Ding ding ding. I don't remember you being that dense in school. Have these highlights messed with your brain?" he teased, tugging on a lock of my hair.
"Funny. I thought you were deliberately trying to be obtuse."
"Why do you care so much?" he asked, scooting the tray to the foot of the bed and moving closer to me.
My body reacted to his close proximity. "What makes you think I care?" I said breathlessly as he inched closer.
"I think you care a lot," he said, dropping his eyes to my mouth.
I swallowed hard as his mouth hovered close to mine. "Tell me you haven't been thinking about this," he said, stroking a thumb over my bottom lip.
"Have you?" I whispered.
"Jams, I've been thinking about this longer than I can remember," he said, crushing his lips to mine. His words rang through my head, but there was no way I could make sense of them when his lips felt so good. I responded with a small moan when his tongue trailed across the same spot where his thumb had been. My pleasure filled acceptance affected him and he dragged me into his arms, deepening the kiss. A shiver rippled down my body as our tongues found each other. I gripped the hem of his shirt, wanting him closer. Hearing my unspoken plea, he settled the upper half of his body on top of mine. I gasped with pleasure, running my fingers up under his shirt. I could feel the firmness of his muscles and smoothness of his skin. It was almost my undoing when I felt him tugging at my shirt moments before his hand glided over the sensitive skin of my ribcage. My blood roared through me. His hand moved farther up to my breasts and I bowed my body, whimpering against his lips. I wanted his touch everywhere on my body.
"Jams, you're seriously killing me," he said raggedly against my lips. He pulled back slightly.
"Is that good or bad?" I asked, running my hands up his torso. My fingers trailed to the small patch of hair that disappeared down his jeans. Ever since I'd seen him in nothing but his jockey shorts the other night, I've fantasized about that small trail of hair.
"So good it almost hurts," he said, leaning in for another kiss. Before his lips could reach their destination, a beeping noise from downstairs followed by the sound of voices in the hallway interrupted us. "Really?" he asked incredulously, climbing off the bed. I couldn't help giggling. Of course something was going on. With our luck lately, I could have almost set my watch by it.
Chapter 10
Grant helped me put my boot on my one good foot and slid his feet into his own before he reached for me. His eyes were amused as he scooped me up into his arms yet again. "Nice timing," he joked. "I better think about baseball and hope it works quickly."
"What?" I asked, not getting what he meant.
"You know—we were just doing some stuff that may have caused something," he said, nodding his head downward.
I burst out laughing after finally realizing his problem. "So, I shouldn't tell you how hot you were making me?" I said, adding fuel to the fire.
"Please no," he pleaded as I reached out to open the door.
In the last twenty-four hours, I had been held by him a number of times, and yet this time it felt different as he cradled me tenderly against his chest. We followed another couple down the stairs and outside. Smoke was drifting from the back of the house, which alarmed us both.
"Where's Maggie?" I asked, scanning the small crowd outside.
"I don't know," Grant said, looking worriedly back inside.
"Put me down, I can hang on to the post," I said, hearing sirens in the background.
"Don't move," he said, setting me down.
"I promise not to run any marathons. Now get in there."
A woman I didn't know came over to stand beside me. "Are you okay?" she asked as I hobbled on one foot while I held the banister.
"Yeah, it's just a bad sprain. Do you know what happened?" I asked.
"I think it's another one of Maggie's mishaps in the kitchen," she laughed.
"This has happened before?" I asked, feeling somewhat relieved.