21. Monroe #2
“Yeah,” I finally said when I’d stared a beat too long. “I’ve been called that a time or two.”
“You’re not all that bad, actually.”
Her words were quiet, but damn did they hit me upside the head. I had the weirdest urge to smile and bask in the compliment. But all that evaporated with her next statement.
“We should probably talk about what we’ve got coming up for you and Itzel.”
There was a pang in my chest as I watched her drop a shutter over her emotions. An entirely too practiced smile replaced the open expression from a moment ago.
“Yeah, we probably should,” I choked out, trying to hide my disappointment.
The sharp scent of alcohol cleared my head as I took another sip. She was right. We were here for a job, not to explore whatever the fuck it was that had me feeling like a damned college kid.
“So, it looks like the photos were run in a few different media outlets. I approved the ones of you two at dinner. Same ones Itze posted to her socials,” she said, flipping through the pages, avoiding eye contact.
I had no clue which ones she was talking about. Didn’t even remember taking any that night.
Only photo my mind conjured was the one I’d snapped of her and Goldie coloring without them knowing. Second time today I’d added Graciella’s picture to my phone.
“Also, I’ve got some interview questions for you,” she said, cutting through my thoughts. Her pen checked off a box. “And we have to talk about your Draft speech this weekend.”
Ice slid down my spine. “What? Why?”
My attendance at the Draft wasn’t a surprise. My mom had planned her vacation around being back in time to keep Goldie for the weekend. But a fucking speech?
This was the first I’d heard about it.
Her head popped up. “Why?” she repeated, sounding confused. “Because we’re going to it. We leave on Thursday?”
I clutched the tumbler. “What do you mean we are going to the Draft?”
“You’d think that sentence would be simple enough for a man. We” — she motioned between us— “are going to the Draft. The thingy that happens every year where teams announce the players that they are selecting to join—”
Smart-ass. “Yeah, I know what it is, but why are you going? And what are you talking about, a speech?”
She ignored me.
“Should I say it in Spanish?” She cocked her head to the side, looking condescending as hell and unbothered by my glare. “Tú eres un tonto,” she said, enunciating each word.
I might not know much Spanish, but I was positive she’d called me an idiot.
Why did I find it so hot when she was mean?
“Always with the attitude, Graciella.”
I pushed off the washer, closing the distance in two steps and caging her between my arms.
I was being dragged in two different directions. Ping-ponging between exploring whatever this knot of desire in my chest was and shoving it back behind its icy fortress. Marbled cooled my palms, but the heat swirling in those brown eyes as she looked at me through a fan of dark lashes…
Hot enough to melt.
“That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble.” I ran my thumb along it, her tongue chasing it. I wasn’t sure she was aware she’d done it.
“Monroe.” My name was breathy on her lips, hooking me around the throat like a damned collar.
I cut the distance.
“Graciella?”
Her citrusy scent tempted me to close the last few inches between us. See if any of my flavor guesses were correct.
She dragged her eyes down my body and my cock twitched, wishing he could get some of her attention, too.
“You couldn’t handle the type of trouble my mouth is capable of getting into,” she said, voice low. Felt like a caress.
Fuck.
“Don’t assume to know what I can and can’t handle.” My words tumbled out, coated in suggestion.
At this point, I didn’t know where the fucking line in the sand was when it came to her. Or what we were doing.
What I was doing.
But I was out of control, unraveling at her feet without a clue how to stop it.
I shoved away the mess of thoughts, focused on the warmth under the tips of my fingers gliding along her cheek, on the little gasp that fell from her lips. On how silky smooth her inky hair was as I tucked it behind her ear.
That damn pink tongue of hers popped out again, and all I wanted to do was suck on it.
My dick throbbed. Everything in me screamed to slam my mouth on hers.
I leaned down, whispering in her ear, “I can handle an entire team. One brat is easy work for me, Trouble.” The little hitch in her breath made me smile as much as seeing her pulse pounding in her neck.
It was a Herculean effort to force myself back. Her expression almost made it worth pulling away. Wild eyes with those pretty pink lips parted, ready to say something, but nothing came out.
My chuckle sure snapped her out of her shock, though.
“Joshua Monroe.”
“Still not my name.”
“Stop talking to me like that, Monroe. I’ll think you’re flirting with me,” she said it as if it were a joke, but her eyes searched mine as she picked at her nail polish. Green today.
“I am, Graciella.”
She gave me a surprised look.
We stared at each other for a minute, silence settling over us. Nothing but the whirl of clothes and the blood pounding in my ears.
“Even though you don’t trust me?” she asked, vulnerability coating her tone. “And don’t tell me that it’s not true. I know you don’t and…” She folded her hands in her lap, kneading them. “Listen, I’m sorry for how I went about getting this position. That was wrong for me to do, desperate or not.”
I swallowed, looking away for a moment before telling the truth.
“I’m not used to people helping me without an ulterior motive. It’s happened a lot in my career as a player.”
“And I did exactly that,” she said, head hung.
I’d figured she wouldn’t feel bad about how she got this job, or she’d think I was being too sensitive. It chipped away at what little barrier I had left.
“Yeah, ya did. But I mean, you never lied about that,” I said. “You were pretty clear from the jump you weren’t doing this from the kindness of your heart.” It came out harsher than I’d intended.
She jerked her head away.
But I wasn’t letting her off that easily. Letting this go that easily. I cupped her face, running the pad of my thumb across her cheek, brushing the corner of her mouth.
That tempting fucking mouth.
“I don’t let new people into my life, or into ours. I’m the only parent Goldie’s got. It’s my job to think about what’s best for her.”
Her face flashed with an emotion I couldn’t quite figure out. “I used to only think of others’ wants when making decisions about my life. Never my own. And somewhere in my course correction, I yanked the wheel a little too far in the other direction.”
The smile she shot me was soft, the little flames back to stars.
Every time I thought I had her figured out, she surprised me. I wanted to dig into her past, discover all her layers.
Because, as it turned out, Graciella Xochitl Barerra had a lot of them.
Tension coiled around us, an invisible thread drawing our mouths closer. Us closer.
“Monroe…” She whispered my name like a plea. Only, I wasn’t sure what she was begging for.
My thumb rubbed her soft skin, fingers sliding to the nape of her neck. “Graciella, can I—”
“Daddy! Daddy, where are you?”
The bubble popped, and reality bulldozed its way to the forefront in the form of a little girl.
“In the laundry room, Golds. Go back to bed.” I held my breath, hoping she’d follow directions.
“But Sparkle Pants needs a bed, too, or we can’t fall asleep.”
Graciella’s head fell forward, landing on my chest, her shoulders shaking.
“Are you laughing?” I whispered. “Mr. Sparkle Pants’ bedtime routine is very important in this house.”
I tipped her chin, needing to see her face.
The overhead light highlighted the caramel flecks in her eyes, as she stared up through her thick black lashes at me with a look of longing.
Fuck. I pulled her pillowy lip out from between her teeth, wishing it was my mouth running across it and not my thumb.
Her pink tongue poked out, trailing after it.
“I should go.” Her throat bobbed. “Plus, dad duties call. They’re more important than being here with me.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before stepping away, already missing her warmth. “They are important.”
But I think you’re important, too.