67. Then
SIXTY-SEVEN
then
I woke up with Grayson’s face nestled against my left breast and his snores feathering my nipple.
Did I fall asleep naked ? In my boyfriend’s parents’ house?
Lord. I couldn’t decide if his nudity made mine better or worse.
“Gray,” I hissed, shaking the thick ridge of his shoulder. “Wake up.”
But he only burrowed closer, pouting drowsily. “No. You’re soft and warm. And these floors are always fucking freezing. Plus, it’s early. The sun isn’t even all the way up. ”
“How do you know?” I demanded. “You haven’t opened your eyes.”
The veins along his forearms bulged as he gripped me tighter. “I know because I know you , Ellie. You’re always up at the crack of dawn when you’re anxious… no matter how thoroughly I wear you out.”
He had a point. Rather than debate a fact, I gave a resigned sigh. “I’m not wearing any clothes. I have to put something on.”
His biceps flexed. “In that case, you’re really not getting up.”
He liked to claim that I always cracked him up, but his dry wit and rueful expressions constantly wrung giggles out of me. My titter sparked into true laughter when he flashed a roguish grin and cocked one eye open, giving me a pirate smile.
A second later, he relented, rolling off me with a grunt. “All right, all right,” he yawned. “Get up. But I’m sleeping in and so is everyone else. We’re all on vacation.”
I had never excelled at being on vacation, even when I was a child. I always felt unsettled in new places… Even when my surroundings rivaled every Architectural Digest and Martha Stewart Home magazine.
“I’m a bad relaxer,” I owned. “I’ll be downstairs making coffee and possibly cinnamon rolls. Do you think your mom has yeast?”
Grayson huffed into his pillow. “I guarantee she does not.”
I kissed the back of his neck. “Then I’ll be downstairs making sub-par cinnamon rolls.”
While being naked practically gave me hives, dressing presented its own dilemma.
Should I put on a whole outfit? Proper pajamas so I’m not overdressed and weird? But what if I wear nice pajamas and they’re robe people? Will my pajamas make them feel weird about their robes? Or I could put on sweats. But I only packed a few sets, and I don’t know what activities we have planned….
I finally settled on a pair of Christmas-red pajama pants and a matching camisole, topping it off with a long, thick sweater I had knitted a couple of weeks before. I figured I could close the sweater up if I needed t o. Satisfied, I added socks and crept out of the room, browsing recipes on Pinterest while I made my way downstairs.
Just like their townhome, the Hamptons kitchen was a culinary dream. I found the cabinets stocked with every appliance, gadget, product, and practical tool imaginable. Even yeast.
Within twenty minutes, I slapped some dough together and covered it to let it rise while I made coffee. The espresso machine was a temperamental Italian beast, but I put my barista training to good use. Eventually, I emerged the victor with a latte for myself and piping hot water for the French press. I decided to bring Grayson a carafe of fresh coffee to drink when he woke up.
As I finished soaking the coffee grounds, I heard a thump behind me. Whirling, I found myself face-to-face with a completely unfamiliar man. He stood on the threshold of the enormous kitchen, wearing a black leisure suit and holding a newspaper under his arm.
I started to panic until I recognized a few small similarities between the stranger and Mr. Stryker. They had the same tawny eyes and comparable bone structures. Otherwise, the man standing before me resembled a blond, balding emperor penguin. Squat, with round features. Nothing like Grayson and Mr. Stryker’s imposing heights and builds.
“Theodore Stryker, dear girl.”
His voice gave me a chill. Anxiety snaked down into my stomach and coiled there, seething.
He didn’t notice. He smiled, revealing a row of falsely white teeth. “My brother doesn’t usually employ such young, attractive staff, but I see, in his old age, he’s learned the error of his ways. Are you our chef for the weekend, lovely?”
Yikes . When Gray described his uncle as “smarmy,” I somehow thought he had to be exaggerating. Apparently not .
I smoothed my hands over my messy bun, then forced myself forward to shake his hand. “No, sir. I’m Ella Callahan. Grayson’s girlfriend. ”
He eyed me in a new, shrewd way I didn’t care for. As if sizing up his competition. “Ah, yes. The famous Ella . I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I was tempted to tell him I’d also heard a lot about him … none of it good. Instead, I discreetly pulled the edges of my sweater together, hiding my cleavage from his overzealous appraisal.
“It’s so good to meet you,” I fibbed, pasting on a smile and glancing behind me at the messy kitchen. “I apologize for just helping myself. Grayson told me his parents would still be sleeping for a while yet, and we weren’t expecting you until this afternoon…”
Theodore’s sharp smile reappeared. “As soon as I got my son’s travel arrangements worked out, I came right over. Got in late last night.” A wholly inappropriate gleam lit his gaze. “Very late… Although, I don’t believe I was the only one awake. The guest wing was far from quiet.”
He capped his observation off with an exaggerated wink. Shock stabbed into my throat, rendering me speechless.
Did he seriously just imply that he heard Gray and I when he got here?
Much to my mounting mortification, his insinuation made sense. When Gray joined me in our suite after dinner, he came straight at me.
The fierce lines of his face betrayed a wealth of emotion—pain, longing, adoration. I didn’t know why, but I knew he needed me. And I fell right into his arms, all too happy to spend the rest of the night making love until we both drifted off.
Still… even if Ted overheard us… wasn’t it unspeakably rude to mention it?
“Ellie?”
Gray’s voice filled me with relief. I cleared my throat, hoping to sound somewhat normal. “In here! With your uncle!”
He appeared behind Ted, wearing only a pair of navy sweats and some socks. The second his gaze touched me, his face folded into a frown. When he no ted the shame blazing on my neck and chest, his eyes hardened into emeralds.
Ignoring his uncle, he sailed over and stepped between us, giving Ted his back. His hands flew up to hold my face. “What’s the matter?”
I paused for a beat, debating the wisdom of lying to him. I hated to be dishonest, but I didn’t want us to get off on the wrong foot. We had a lot riding on mending fences with his uncle.
“Nothing!” My voice sounded too bright. “We were just getting acquainted!”
Gray didn’t buy it for a second. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. I widened mine slightly, shooting a fretful look around his arm and giving him a glare.
Be. Nice .
With a quiet sigh, Grayson pivoted, positioning himself beside me. He reached across my back to grip my hip and dropped his face into my hair, nuzzling me instead of meeting his uncle’s expectant eyes.
“Good morning, Ted,” he rumbled into my crown, veiling disdain with a tissue-thin layer of apathy. “Nice to see you.”
Either Theodore didn’t take the hint, or he wanted to push Gray’s buttons. “Grayson, my boy!” he crowed, surging forward to clap my boyfriend’s bare shoulder. “Last time I saw you, you were scrawny as all hell. Good to see you finally filled out.”
He waved at the mess behind us, adding, “And you put your little woman to work, I see.”
Gray’s fingers dug into my side, his expression darkening. For some reason, the moment suddenly struck me as hilariously hopeless. I had to swallow the incorrigible urge to laugh in Ted’s face.
A squeak slipped out before I could squelch it. Gray caught my gaze, reading the amusement there. We had a silent moment where we agreed not to let some casual sexism ruin our morning. Or our vacation.
His lips turned up at the corners. “Ella is wonderful, and we’re lucky to have he r,” he said, still gazing at me. “Though we weren’t expecting you until later in the day.”
When he finally met Ted’s eyes, Gray’s stance altered. He drifted partially in front of me. Shirtless, with his shoulders rolled back, and his hands all over me; he presented the very picture of confidence.
Making it clear that I was his . That their house was his . And, I suspected, Stryker I wouldn’t give his uncle the satisfaction of my agreement.
“Oh, he did,” I insisted, then canted my head at Ted. “It’s so generous of Mason and Jacqueline to get us all out of town for a bit. They mentioned you used to have a home up here, too, but wound up selling it for some reason…”
Ted visibly quailed. “Yes. Well.”
He snatched the French press off the counter, along with the mug I had laid out for Gray. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll read my paper on the deck.”
After he walked off, I turned to my boyfriend. “Well, there goes your coffee. Out into the cold. Whatever. I can make some more.”
He cupped my face again, bending to lay a warm, chaste kiss against my lips. “No. I will make my own coffee. And then I’ll help you with whatever you’re doing in here because—once again—you are not the caterer, Ellie.”
I kissed his chin and squirmed away. “Fine, make your coffee. But then you need to sit at the island and let me look at you while I work because: one—you’re handsome as hell, and two—you cannot cook.”
Gray raised a sardonic brow. “Yes, ma’am.”