Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
LEX
“Oh my fucking god. How have I never eaten cookies this way? It’s like having fresh-baked ones any time you want without having to actually make them?” Garrison’s eyes fell closed as he chewed, and a moan slipped out.
If he moaned like that one more time, my dick was going to beg to join the party. We were having a chill chat on the couch, not a conversational prelude to fooling around. Despite our crackling chemistry, this wasn’t a date.
“I’m glad to rock your world. Again.” I couldn’t help myself, so I leaned forward—inches away from kissing distance—and wiped the chocolate off his bottom lip.
As soon as I removed my finger, he traced the spot with his tongue.
I needed to move the conversation to safer waters before I hopped on his lap and licked chocolate from him.
“So, what kind of work do you do?” Despite having been to his office, I hadn’t paid attention to what they did there.
“Basically, a project manager for big tech projects. I spend a lot of time nagging people to get things done, reminding them what they promised to do, trying to keep us under budget, and explaining to leadership why we’re running behind.”
Clearly, he was drastically oversimplifying things. Unless he came from a wealthy family or sold off some sort of tech business in college, he had to have a pretty well-paying job to afford this house and his car. It was refreshing that he wasn’t droning on about his work to try and impress me.
His underselling it made me want to know more. “That’s interesting.”
Garrison tilted his head back and laughed. “No, it’s not. But that’s okay. It’s interesting to me but doesn’t need to be to everyone. I like juggling a lot of things and monitoring a complicated web of tasks. It works for me.” He chewed another piece of cookie. “Do you have any other jobs I haven’t encountered this past week?”
I really liked his sense of humor. “I haven’t given you a ride yet or delivered your takeout order, but other than that, you’ve seen them all.”
Garrison whistled, and I tensed, bracing for judgment or, worse, pity. We lived in wildly different circumstances. He had a nice house and car and appeared to live alone while affording it all. I could barely pay my bills, let alone splurge on anything, and I had to rely on the kindness of a friend for a cheap place to live. I begged my car every day to keep running smoothly.
“You must have incredible time-management skills. I’m impressed. If it wasn’t for my Google Calendar, I’d be a mess.”
I searched his face and only found earnestness. “I’ve had to get good at that quickly, but I’ve always been pretty good at juggling things. Like you.”
His smile was warm.
“In high school, I was in theater, choir, and president of the high school’s environmental group. My academic planner was complicated and color-coded.”
Garrison chuckled. “I pegged you as a theater guy.”
I dramatically leaned against the couch and gestured to myself. “What gave me away?” I overacted the words.
His easy grin drew me in.
“Do you work all the gigs to keep things interesting? One of my buddies does that because he gets bored easily and likes working for himself. It suits him.”
I relaxed even more at his lack of judgment. He got it. So few did. “It’s more of a necessity, but I do enjoy the variety.”
Garrison tilted his head but didn’t push. That made me comfortable to share more.
“I used to teach anthropology at a university, but I lost my job. I’ve tried to find something else, but people like me are a dime a dozen.”
He frowned. “There’s nothing common about you.”
I preened shamelessly. Sue me.
“I appreciate that, but people with PhDs unable to find work in their academic areas are all too common these days, unfortunately. I couldn’t find a tenure-track job with security and benefits, so I accepted a part-time adjunct teaching job. The problem is those positions are the first to get cut. It’s hard as hell to get a job in academia anymore, especially one with the security of tenure.”
Garrison placed his hand on my thigh.
“I’m always searching for an opportunity, but in the meantime, I do gig work to make money.” I broke off a piece of a double-chocolate cookie. “I’ve been thinking about trying to find a random office or retail job, but part of me is holding out hope for an academic job in anthropology. It’ll be easy to stop all these gigs quickly if I find something.”
“I bet it’s more entertaining than sitting at a desk all day.”
I flashed a wry smile. “That’s true.”
He squeezed my leg. “I’m sorry that’s happening with your career.”
I covered his hand with mine. “Thanks. Me too, but I’m not done trying.” I chewed the cookie piece as we fell into a contemplative silence for a moment.
Time to lighten the mood again. “You were the last person I expected to see at the club last weekend. It was a nice thing you did for your friend—suffering through a dance with me.”
Garrison snorted. “If that’s suffering, then sign me up for more.”
I took a drink of my beer and darted my tongue out to catch the drop on my lip. Garrison tracked each movement.
“It’s not unusual for a member of the bridal party to take one for the team. There’s always one pushy person at the bachelor or bachelorette party.”
“Just like Chett.” Garrison shook his head as he leaned forward to snag a sugar cookie from the container.
I chuckled and tried to ignore the pang in my chest from already missing contact with his hand. “He’s the troublemaker in your group, huh?”
“Oh yeah. He’s threatening to set me up with random guys at the wedding because I don’t have a date.”
“What’s wrong with going solo to the wedding?”
Garrison animatedly gestured toward me. “Thank you! That’s what I said.”
“Are you part of the wedding party?”
“Yeah, I’m a groomsman.”
I hummed. “When I was a groomsman, the groom—my cousin—was giving me shit about not having a date, so I met someone on Tinder and took them to make him happy. It was a nightmare. My date kept getting pissed because I was called away for photos, dances, speeches. What did he expect? But I get it—it’s not an ideal first date when I was pulled into a half dozen directions.”
Garrison studied me. The attention made my skin tingle.
“It’s like you’re reading my mind. Yes! Exactly.” His expression turned serious as he stared off into the distance for a moment. Then his attention snapped back to me. “Actually. Do you have plans on Friday night? Would you consider going with me? The catering is going to be amazing. Cuban-Korean fusion. No sandwiches though.”
I was slated to dance on Friday night and could really use the tips. But as I took in Garrison’s hopeful expression, the prospect of seeing him in a tux was a hell of a lot more appealing than work. Even work I enjoyed. If I got lucky, I might get a few dances in. I wanted to see Garrison in his element and with his friends. I just wanted to know more about him.
I’m in so much trouble.
I didn’t want to leave the club in the lurch, but there were a couple of guys who danced occasionally who might jump at the chance to take over for me for the night. The tips would probably be killer for the Valentine’s holiday, so I’d get a taker. And I could pick up more dog-walking gigs to make up for it. I’d been working my ass off for months, and I’d earned an evening of enjoyment for myself.
“Sure. Sounds like fun.”
Garrison balled his hand in a fist and jerked his elbow back in a victorious gesture. “Awesome.”
I wanted to know what he expected, and I’d learned long ago it was worth a moment of awkwardness to make sure we were on the same page if it meant avoiding anxiety down the road.
“To clarify, am I going to keep the meddlers out of your hair, or is it a date?”
Garrison’s mouth formed an O. “Shit. Sorry. I fumbled that. Lex, would you be my Valentine’s date to my best friend’s wedding?”
I scooted closer on the couch. “I’d love to. You won’t have to worry about me at all. Do what you’ve got to do. I can entertain myself.”
He let out a relieved breath. “Thanks. I promise I won’t ignore you. And maybe you should go ahead and agree to a second date that’s just us to make sure we get quality time. First dates on Valentine’s Day are tricky, you know?”
I bit my bottom lip. That was smooth. But I got it. Way too much pressure and expectation.
“If you’re planning it, then yes. And don’t worry about me at the wedding. Worst case, I’ll start giving lap dances if I get bored.”
Garrison’s genuine laugh told me I’d made the right decision. I hadn’t done much dating since I’d started dancing, but plenty of guys I worked with complained of going out with guys who thought our work was hot at the beginning until jealousy inevitably took over. I hoped Garrison would be different.
We kept talking. I had no idea how much time had passed, and honestly, I didn’t care. I didn’t need to be anywhere tonight, and hanging out with Garrison was the most fun I’d had in a while.
He was easy to talk to, insightful, and listened to what I had to say. There wasn’t a hint of faking interest long enough to get laid. We talked about my academic background and he asked good questions about my research, and I learned more about Garrison’s job and friendship with his best friend getting married.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but there might actually be something here. Whatever it was, it was definitely worth exploring.
Garrison yawned into his fist. “Oh god. I’m sorry. Ignore that. I’m not tired.” He yawned again.
“Didn’t you say you just got back from traveling?”
He nodded as his nostrils flared from biting back another yawn. “Eastern Time isn’t that different.”
I patted his leg. “Different enough. Why don’t you get some rest? You’ll need it for Friday night.”
“And the rehearsal dinner tomorrow.”
I stood, and he followed. He put the lid back on the cookie container and handed it to me.
“Keep them. You have a lot of years of nuking cookies to make up for,” I said.
Laughing, he followed me to the front door. The shape had a charming curve at the top. It really was the perfect house. I couldn’t see outside his bay window because night had fallen, but the space was cozy and inviting. I didn’t really want to leave, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Leave them wanting more.
We both reached the handle at the same moment, and our fingers brushed. A jolt raced up my arm. He sucked in a breath and locked eyes with me.
On second thought, leaving them wanting more could mean multiple things.
I turned toward him and closed the distance between us. I licked my lips and gripped his shoulder as Garrison squeezed my hip. My heart thundered as I leaned in and brushed my lips against his. It was a breezy touch, a tease of more to come. Please, let there be more to come. As I was about to pull back, Garrison deepened the kiss, pulling a moan from me. Our bodies slotted together naturally like we already knew each other intimately. I tilted my head, and he eased his tongue into my mouth.
He pushed me until my back hit the door—taking what he wanted. There was so much desire in the way he handled me, but it was laced with a gentleness I hadn’t expected.
I teased my fingers into his hair and held him there, lips and tongues moving in sync. Even when he pulled back, he didn’t go far. Garrison rested his forehead against mine as we shared breath. His smelled like chocolate and brown sugar.
If it wasn’t for him clutching my hip, I could’ve floated away. I hadn’t felt this kind of swirl in my stomach since my first date in college.
“I owe Scout the most gourmet biscuits I can get my hands on.”
I laughed. It was throatier than my usual one. “You’re telling me.”
“Is it bad if I say I’m even more excited for our date now?”
I brushed my fingertips across his cheek and traced the flush spreading. “If it is, then I’m bad too. I forgot to ask, where’s the wedding?”
“Portland.” He licked his swollen lips. “I’ve got a hotel room.”
“Yeah?”
“We can carpool if you want to crash with me or stay with someone else in Portland. Or we can meet there if you want to drive back to Dahlia Springs after.”
Even with a half-hard dick pressed against me, he was thoughtful.
“Let’s carpool.”
Fire burned in Garrison’s eyes.
I’d pack a bag. If it went well, I’d stay with him. If it didn’t, I’d crash with Bug. “So I’m prepared, what’s the dress code?”
Laughter danced in his eyes, replacing the flames. “Peacock.”
“Like the bird?” There had to be a story there, and I couldn’t wait to hear it.
Garrison’s grin was even more devastating now that I knew how it felt against mine. “Or the shrimp or spider.”
“There’s a peacock spider?”
“You gotta look up its mating dance.”
I leaned in and brushed my lips against his. “You should practice your mating dance. We’ll be on the dance floor in less than forty-eight hours, and I’m a professional. You’ll need to keep up, handsome.”