In Shady Grove: About That Night Part 9

Ivy stepped out of the bathroom, the light illuminating her shape before she shut the door, enclosing the room in darkness again. He waited, hearing her move carefully, and realized she wasn't coming back to bed.

She was leaving.

He sat up and turned on the lamp. She whirled around, her shoes in her hand, and he saw a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. But then she blinked, and he wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing.

"Sorry," she said, her voice still sleep roughened. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Obviously," he said, wondering why he was so p.i.s.sed that she'd been ready to sneak out like a thief in the night. "Not going to say goodbye?"

She studied him. She should have looked haggard-neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep last night. After they'd had s.e.x the first time, they'd both dozed, but he'd woken up hard for her not two hours later. Still, there were no dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was a shiny ma.s.s waving softly around her shoulders, her face clean of makeup.

His groin tightened. h.e.l.l, would he ever get enough of her?

"I'm not big on goodbyes," she finally said. "And like I said, I didn't want to wake you."

"I'm up now." In more ways than one, har har. He patted the bed. "Come here."

She tipped her head. "I don't think so."

He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. Then again, she'd been right when she'd told the teenage waitress he wasn't used to being turned down. "Excuse me?"

Balancing on one leg, she put on her shoe, then switched sides to put on the other one. "I said I don't think so. You've got the look of a man ready for another tumble." She flipped her hair off her shoulder. "Afraid you're out of luck in that regard."

"I want you. I want to touch you again. Taste you. I want to feel your body tighten around me. I want to watch your face while I make you come."

"Your wants have been noted. They're also going to be denied."

His eyes narrowed. What kind of game was this? "We were good together."

"That we were, but it was a one-time thing. You see, I decide who touches me and when. And right now, you're not on that list."

He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood, his movements carefully controlled. "You wanted me to touch you last night."

"Right again, but now I don't." She slid her gaze over his naked body, his erection. Then she smiled at him. "Nice meeting you, cowboy."

And she turned and sashayed out of the room.

C.J. couldn't believe it. Who the h.e.l.l did she think she was? No one walked away from him.

They weren't done. Not by a long shot.

He strode into the living room as the suite door shut behind her. Fully intending to chase her out into the street if necessary, he made it halfway across the room before remembering he didn't have any clothes on.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h.

He rushed back to the room and grabbed his pants, was yanking them on when he went into the hall, his long, angry strides eating up the distance. But not fast enough.

She was already gone.

He jogged down to the elevator, jabbed the b.u.t.ton repeatedly. "Come on, come on," he muttered like a curse, like a prayer. He considered taking the stairs, but that would take too much time.

Finally, the elevator pinged and the doors opened. He leaped inside, pressed the b.u.t.ton for the lobby...and caught sight of his reflection in the mirrors.

Aw, h.e.l.l.

His hair was standing on end, his chest and feet bare, his pants not even zipped, his eyes wild.

He'd lost his ever-loving mind.

The doors started to close, and he stuck his arm out, stalked back to his room only to find the door had shut behind him, locking him out.

He glared at it. Considered giving it a good kick but he'd probably just break his toes. Now he'd have to go down the hall, knock on his mother's or Oakes's door, come up with some lie about how he'd locked himself out of his room at this hour, half-dressed.

Served him right for acting like an idiot. He didn't even know Ivy's last name, and yet he'd been chasing after her, ready to beg her to stay with him, just for another hour or so.

She was right. What had happened between them was a one-time deal. Just as they both wanted.

The sooner he forgot about her, the better.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Four months later "GRACIE, WAIT UP!"

Gracie stopped and turned, held her hand up to shade her eyes from the bright, midday sun. Only to slowly lower it when she saw Luke Sapko jogging toward her. She blinked, frowning. Held her eyes shut for a moment, but when she opened them again, he was still there, except closer, thanks to the jogging and all.

She glanced behind her and then rolled her eyes when she realized she was looking around to see who he was talking to.

He was talking to her, of course. Although, it actually would be more likely that there just happened to be another Gracie-one he'd said more than two words to over the past five years-walking down Blaisdell Avenue right now.

Biting her lower lip, she considered-briefly but with much relish-turning around and just...walking away. Pretending she hadn't heard him, that she hadn't seen him trying to catch up to her. But that would be rude. And she wasn't rude.

Too bad. It would probably come in handy at times.

Such as when a girl stood in the middle of the sidewalk, the sun burning her bare shoulders, sweat running down her back while she waited to see what the heck the captain of the football team could possibly want from her.

"Hey," he said when he reached her.

She dug deep to find a way to return his smile. Nope. Not happening. "h.e.l.lo, Luke."

Okay, that had sounded sort of prissy. And completely unfriendly.

Maybe she could be just the tiniest bit rude. Funny how, instead of making her feel ashamed, she was doing an internal celebratory dance.

She'd have to contemplate what that meant later.

"How's it going?" Luke asked, hands in the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts, his smile still on his face, as if he was really happy to be chatting with her.

Must be a slow day in the jock world in which he lived. No games on ESPN, weights to lift, protein shakes to make or half-witted teammates to hang out with.

She winced. Sighed so deeply she felt it all the way to her toes. Bitter? Her? Well, maybe a little.

It was all Andrew Freeman's fault. But that was no reason to take it out on Luke.

"I'm fine." Other than, you know, her head being hot-having thick, curly hair was like having your very own fur hat-and wondering why on earth Luke was talking to her. Yes, just fine and dandy. And because she hadn't liked her earlier mean thought about the half-wits, she cleared her throat and forced herself to ask, "How about you?"

"Everything's good, thanks." Well, there was a lesson in politeness right there.

Then again, Luke had always been nice. At least to her face. She had no idea what he said about her behind her back. And how egotistical was that? Luke probably never gave her a second thought.

Unless...unless Andrew mentioned her to him?

She snorted, covered it with a fake cough when Luke sent her a curious look. Why on earth would Andrew talk about her? Yes, yes, he and Luke were best friends, one of those bromances so popular in high school and cop movies, but Andrew hadn't wanted anyone to know he and Gracie hung out.

He'd been embarra.s.sed by her.

The back of her throat ached. Her nose tingled. No. No way was she going to get all weepy over him. She was over what he'd done. All the way over it. No grudges or bad feelings.

She was bigger than that.

Even if there were times she felt small. Small, petty and totally unlike herself. Unlike the person she wanted to be.

"Great," she said, realizing it was her turn to talk. She gestured behind her. "I actually have to get to work now, so..."

But when she started walking away, he fell into step beside her.

What good was all that positive karma she'd built up over her lifetime if it left her at times like this?

She snuck a sideways glance at him. He was tall, and his green T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the sleeves hugging his well-defined arms. He'd gotten a haircut sometime during the three weeks since school had let out, and the shorter style accentuated the lines of his face, made him look older. Less cute and more...va-va-voom.

If you liked that sort of thing.

"How'd you do on the SATs?" he asked.

"How did you know I took the SATs?"

"I took them the same day. Remember?"

Well, of course she remembered. She just hadn't thought he'd noticed her there that morning.

"I did okay." Actually, she'd done better than okay. And really, was it so horrible if she casually mentioned her score? He might be good-looking, popular and athletic, but she was smart. Everyone knew the teenagers deemed geeks and nerds by their peers ended up ruling the world as adults. She couldn't wait. "I got eighteen hundred."

It wasn't bragging. It was the truth. He'd asked. She'd answered. Simple as that.

"That's great," he said, sounding as if he really meant it. Not that she'd wanted him to be envious or anything, she quickly a.s.sured herself. "Me, too. Well, eighteen forty."

She stopped, her body slamming to a halt out of pure shock-unfortunately, she'd just stepped off the corner and into the road. An approaching car beeped, quite aggressively, if you asked her, and Luke took her arm. Waved pleasantly at the driver as he tugged her across the street.

"Congratulations," she managed. "On your score." The score that was forty points higher than hers.

Guess karma was working after all, giving her a good kick in the rear for being so mean-spirited. For a.s.suming he was some dumb jock.

He shrugged. "I did well on the math portion but just okay on the English. And I completely bombed the writing." He sent her another of those carefree, aren't-we-just-two-buddies-strolling-down-the-street grins. "Guess it's a good thing I don't plan on being a writer."

Gracie had aced the English and writing portions, but her math score was just above average. See? They were opposites, with nothing in common. She shouldn't feel bad about not wanting to walk with him.

A car went by, someone yelling Luke's name over the heavy ba.s.s of their rap song. He waved, apparently not the least bit worried to be seen with her. He sidestepped a mailbox, and she got a whiff of his cologne. It was subtle, not overpowering like Andrew's or a lot of the boys at school. What did they do? Bathe in the stuff?

Luke's was...nice...though. Soft and spicy but not perfume-y.

And why she was sniffing the boy and critiquing his stupid cologne, she had no idea.

Spying Bradford House, she picked up her pace, which he easily matched thanks to his longer legs. But it didn't matter, because in a matter of moments, she'd be going her way and he'd be going his-wherever that might be. The baseball field two blocks away or one of his friends' houses. Didn't his Mean Girlsclone girlfriend, Kennedy, live around here?

At the walkway leading up to the Victorian bed-and-breakfast, Gracie stopped. "Well, goodbye," she said so abruptly, so obviously wanting to get rid of him, she wondered if she'd suffered some sort of brain damage during her sleep last night. She considered softening her brusqueness by saying she'd talk to him later, but they probably wouldn't see each other until school started again, so why bother? "Have a good summer."

"Actually, I'm going in there, too," he said with a nod toward the house.

She had to tip her head back to see his face. "Why would you do that?"

He scratched the side of his jaw, and she noticed the stubble covering his cheeks and chin. "Because I work there. Here, I mean."

The birds stopped chirping, car engines ceased to rumble, even her heart quit beating. Everything went still and silent. Except for the roaring in her head, of course. That was loud and clear. "What?"

"I work here. Today's my first day."

Impossible. She worked at Bradford House. Had quit at King's Crossing and taken a job here as part-time housekeeper a few months back when Ivy took over as the chef. Now that summer was here, Gracie also babysat the B and B's manager, Fay Lindemuth's, two young boys three times a week and on weekends.

Gracie whirled around and almost ran up the walk to the porch, took the steps two at a time, well aware Luke was behind her. That he probably thought she was some sort of freak. Stepping inside, she hurried down the hall, through the dining room and into the small office.

Fay sat behind her desk, her almost three-year-old son, Mitch.e.l.l, on the floor playing cars. As soon as Mitch saw Gracie he jumped to his feet. "Gracie! Hi, Gracie! Hi! Want to play cars?"

"Maybe later, buddy," she said. Luckily, he was much easier going than his older brother, Elijah, who would have had a major fit at being told no.

Mitch just grinned. "Okay." And plopped down again.

Gracie went around the desk, lowered her voice as she spoke to Fay. "Did you hire-" the sound of footsteps behind her made her turn, and she pointed at Luke "-him?"

Standing, Fay smiled her soft, serene smile. "Yes, to help with the yard work, housekeeping and to pitch in with Ivy in the kitchen."

Then she skirted around Gracie as if she wasn't trying to ruin Gracie's life and make her completely miserable.