Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
GRACE
Trying to ignore the doll in its plexiglass prison clearly built for the sole and sinister purpose of being creepy AF, Grace stared at the textured ceiling.
She didn’t normally sleep in the kind of T-shirt fired from a cannon.
Scratchy. White. “Cruisin’” splashed across her boobs, with no indication whether it promoted a love of ocean voyages or trolling for sex with strangers.
She didn’t even normally sleep outside her own bed, and never without a travel bag.
But of course, even dropping off a freaking pumpkin pie had upended Grace’s plans.
She shut her eyes tightly enough to see a million points of silvery light, and they each judged her for letting Alix’s trip spiral into disaster. God, Alix. She’d probably go back to LA with a hundred stories about the weirdo she met on an app.
Rolling onto her side, Grace tried to convince herself that nothing was as bad as it looked.
That she had a habit of catastrophizing.
Naomi had happily agreed to pop by her condo to take care of Icarus and Sheila.
It was just a few days, and Alix was either an award-winning actor, or she really didn’t mind sleeping in Marie Kondo’s personal hell.
The memory of Alix smiling at Sylvia’s collection of weird-ass rocks triggered something bright and fizzy in Grace’s chest. There was no better sport on the planet than Alix.
She’d rolled with every unexpected turn like she was excited to see what was next.
Grace couldn’t imagine that level of patience, but she’d empty out her 401(k) for it.
Once she’d conjured the image of Alix in her mind, she couldn’t think of anything else.
Her cool hair and easy swagger and mesmerizing eyes and those fucking dimples.
Grace groaned into a lumpy pillow and resisted the urge to scream.
She couldn’t be attracted to her. That was creepy and embarrassing.
Worse, it fed into the stupid stereotype that lesbians couldn’t be just friends.
Plus, there was no way that Alix would be attracted to her in return. Alix’s aura was blindingly bright. She was sweet and thoughtful and so comfortable in her own skin… skin that was tanned and flawless and tattooed and — no.
She couldn’t let herself develop a stupid crush. Alix was the only person in her life she could be herself with, and that was irreplaceable. She couldn’t mess it up. It was probably just her brain confusing her excitement about a new friend with something else.
Sleep wouldn’t show up no matter how hard Grace tried. She blamed it on not having her green noise machine, lavender pillow spray, or weighted blanket. Although, her sleeping pills strong enough to knock out a rhino would’ve been clutch.
Grace’s mind was drifting somewhere between the warm brown of Alix’s eyes and interrogatory responses she had to finish drafting for a client, when an ear-piercing alarm sent her flying to her feet.
Scrambling in the unfamiliar room in the dark, Grace slammed her toes into a dresser before finding the doorknob.
No smoke, that was good. Was it carbon monoxide?
Grace sniffed the air like the damn gas wasn’t famously odorless.
Racing down the narrow hallway, she didn’t feel like she was going to pass out, which she decided was a net positive.
In the overstuffed living room, the sofa bed was empty and Alix was nowhere to be found.
Grace looked outside in time to see Alix running seconds before a splash joined the screaming alarm. Bolting for the patio, Grace’s heart stopped when she saw Alix struggling to get Baby out of the pool. The blaring screech must have been the pool surface alarm.
Instinctively, Grace leapt in behind Alix to save the dog from drowning.
The initial shock of the cold water chased away any lingering drowsiness, and Grace immediately positioned herself at Baby’s side across from Alix.
Having jumped in the deep end, Grace struggled to keep Baby above the surface.
As soon as she could feel the bottom with her tiptoes, she panted to catch her breath.
“Give me your hands,” Alix said, eyes wide and face etched with worry. “We can make a float.”
Standing on the balls of her feet, Grace grabbed Alix’s forearms. As soon as they put their arms under Baby, he started to paddle smoothly rather than flail.
Holding him up like the strangest flotation device, they crab-walked all the way to the steps, where Baby mercifully got himself out of the pool.
Kickboxing class had not given her the ability to carry a soaking wet fur factory out of a body of water.
As soon as Baby was out and shaking forty gallons of pool water from his coat, Grace found the source of the unholy noise.
Just as she’d thought, it was a sensor that alerted every person on earth that something had gotten in the pool.
She hit all the buttons on the contraption mounted to the ledge until it finally went silent.
“What happened?” Grace asked, chest and arms burning from playing lifeguard. “Are you okay?” She rested her hands on her hips where the water lapped at her waist in the shallow end.
“He was whining so I thought he had to pee, and I let him out, but he just cannonballed into the pool and—” Alix stopped short, her attention fixed on Grace’s torso. “Uh, what are you wearing?”
Grace looked down at herself. At the stupid Cruisin’ shirt plastered to her body. At just how see-through it had become in the water. At her own nipples staring back at her like she might otherwise forget it was cold.
Dropping into the water, Grace’s embarrassment flooded her skin with enough heat to turn the pool into a hot tub. “I wasn’t expecting not to go back home, okay?” Shame made her pitch high enough to crack a snow globe. “My aunt had this—”
“You could have borrowed something of mine,” Alix replied with a lopsided grin. “Although, I mean, it’d be hard to top such an iconic design. Cruisin’…” Alix laughed.
Grace wanted to respond, but she couldn’t exactly form words when Alix was moving toward her, water gently breaking around her.
When her hair was slicked back and her eyes were reflecting the moon.
When her black muscle tee outlined the soft curves of her body and revealed just how many more tattoos painted her skin.
She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she saw that Alix was wearing only boxer briefs and a T-shirt right before she jumped in the pool.
Curiosity pulled her gaze toward Alix’s legs, trying to see just how covered that skin might be in ink, too.
Relief from having saved Baby was replaced by a new adrenaline spike. Pulse pounding in her throat, Grace couldn’t stop her gaze from moving toward Alix’s lips. Lips that were parting as Alix neared.
“I’m so sorry,” Grace said, teeth on the brink of chattering. “This is not going at all how I planned.” She swallowed hard, like that might flush the shame from her system. “You must think I’m such a mess.”
Alix smiled slowly, revealing a single dimple at a time. She lowered herself to be neck-deep in the pool and at Grace’s eye-level. Gently, she reached out and brushed something from the top of Grace’s cheek. Mascara, Grace guessed, since she didn’t have her makeup removing products.
“That’s not what I think of you,” Alix whispered, her voice reverberating in every part of Grace’s trembling body.
It was a suspended moment. One Grace wished she could freeze. She didn’t want Alix to take her hand away, warm and sure. She wanted her to move closer until she was only a breath away.
Grace could nearly taste the yes of Alix’s kiss on her lips. She could close her eyes. Could give in. God, for once, she could give in just because it felt good. Because she wanted it. But her brain slammed on the brakes hard enough for whiplash.
You only fall for women who don’t pick you. Julie never had. It was as nauseating as it was true. Why would Alix ever choose her? Alix who was three time zones away and hadn’t once hinted at being open to dating after Kirstin. Grace wasn’t even sure that Alix was over Kirstin.
Alix was smart and funny and kind. Grace told herself it wasn’t attraction — that she was just desperately clinging to the friendly attention Alix gave her. It was pathetic and she needed to stop before she humiliated herself.
But Alix was still looking at her, and the moon’s reflection was dancing all around them, and all Grace wanted to do was stop. Stop thinking. Stop resisting. To let herself float toward something without fighting to control the current.
Another splash ripped through the silence. Grace turned to the noise, but this time she had a clearer picture. This time, she realized that Baby had jumped onto the diving board before belly flopping into the pool.
Baby, the terrorist, could not only swim just fine, but he was happily paddling toward them with a plastic duck in his mouth. Motherfucker.
Instead of being upset that they were cold and freezing in the pool in the middle of the night for absolutely no reason, Alix threw her head back and laughed. Struggling to find the will to be angry at the dog, Grace bit the inside of her cheek and couldn’t help chuckling.