CHAPTER 17
GRAYDON
“Dude, you look like secret service, ready to murder with your own hands,” OC says as he comes up to me, wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, the top few buttons undone.
Next to him is, fuck, what is his name? Trevor?
He’s wearing a full-on safari outfit minus the hat.
But he’s making khaki his bitch tonight, that’s for damn sure.
“Don’t call me ‘dude.’” I sneer at him.
OC winces, then directs his attention to Maple. “How do you deal with the grump on the daily?”
She takes a sip of her champagne. “Alcohol.” This causes OC to let out a wallop of a laugh.
Fucking idiot.
Bennett isn’t here because he’s out of town for an away game, but his zookeeper is zooming around from group to group, chatting it up while I stand off in the corner with Maple, trying to avoid talking to anyone.
Gretchen would have a fucking fit, but I don’t give a shit. The last thing I want to do is engage in small talk, especially with a bunch of people I don’t know or care to know.
“Oh, there’s Wallace. I’m going to go say hi,” Khaki Man says before he takes off, leaving me with OC and Maple.
OC rocks on his heels, hands in his pockets, looking around with what seems like a million questions on his mind, but for once, he’s reading the room as he says, “You know, I think I might go get a refill on my drink.”
He takes off, leaving me alone with Maple.
Maple in a short, tight red dress.
Maple in heels that define her legs in a way I didn’t even know was possible.
Maple with her blue eyes looking like endless pools of solitude.
And those goddamn red lips.
Like a siren, calling to me, testing me.
It’s driving me fucking nuts.
When she opened her door, I honestly didn’t know what I expected her to be wearing, but that dress…I swear she’s taunting me. Not that we’ve ever interacted in a way that involves sexual taunting, but it fucking felt like that.
She’s basically giving me a middle finger about my high-water pants comment. The way the fabric hugs her curves, making my vision go dizzy as I narrow in on her waist, her hips, and her ass…fuck, when she turns around I’m going to have to look away.
It’s taking me fucking effort to keep my eyes straight ahead.
To not drool.
To not constantly check her out every goddamn second we share the same air.
It’s been an effort since day one, when I first met her, but I’ve been able to control it—for the most part. Now that she’s in that dress, Jesus, it’s as alluring as the goddamn yoga pants. At least she was sitting down when she was wearing those, hidden under the table.
She’s not hidden at all tonight.
Nope, out in the open for my goddamn wandering eyes.
And I hate myself for it.
I really fucking do.
I wish I had more goddamn control.
But I don’t. The only control I had was exerted when zipping up her dress in her apartment and not taking it off. I also was able to hold back the onslaught of drool and inappropriate compliments that rolled through me. Like…
Christ, you look hot.
And…lock the door, get undressed, you’re not leaving this apartment.
And…bend over, ass up, underpants off.
Maple clears her throat, waking me up from my red-dress reverie. “You know, I think we’re supposed to mingle, talk to people, not be silent brooders in the corner of the event space, but what do I know about fundraising events?” she asks, a bit of snark in her voice.
“Then go mingle,” I say, nodding toward the crowd.
“It would help if my celebrity counterpart came with me.”
“Wouldn’t that require you to drink more alcohol…spending that much time with me?”
Her eyes fall on mine. “Yes, it would, but I don’t believe emptying the adult watering hole is going to help the situation, therefore, I shall suck it up and stick to this one drink.”
“That’s awfully big of you.”
“Well, someone has to be,” she says with a shrug and then takes another sip of her drink.
I step toward her, my voice dark as I say, “Pretty sure you can guess how big I am.”
At a snail’s pace, her head tilts as her eyes scan me. When our gazes meet, she wets her lips. “That’s…that’s not what I meant.”
“Seems as though you don’t mean a lot of the things you say when you’re around me.” I reach out and take her glass of champagne, only to down the rest of it.
“Hey, I was drinking that.”
“And I finished it,” I say, setting it down on the tray of a server going by. I place my hand on her lower back and add, “Now, you want to talk to people, so lead me to people to talk to.”
“What are you going to say to them?” she asks, worried.
“I’m going to talk about the stilt-legged dipshits…Is that what I called them?”
Her eyes narrow, and she fully turns toward me, rage simmering behind those stunning eyes of hers. “Don’t you dare.”
“Or was it knobby-kneed nitwits?”
She backs away from me, her finger ready to rise as she prepares to lecture me.
“Better check the body language, Baker. People are watching, and they might think we’re in a lovers’ quarrel. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Her back stiffens, and she tucks her finger back into her tiny fist before moving closer to me. I keep my hand on her back but tug her in just a hint closer so she’s almost pressed completely against me.
She doesn’t smell like her normal lavender self tonight. Instead, she must have sprayed some sort of fancy perfume, something feminine that I can’t quite put my finger on. Whatever it is, it smells phenomenal.
So fucking good, I’m tempted to run my nose along her neck to try to pinpoint exactly what kind of scent it is.
Between the dress, the way she highlighted her eyes, and her perfume, she has me wrapped around her angry little finger, and it’s taking everything in me to attempt to remind myself that I’m not interested.
That nothing good could come of making a move.
That this is strictly business.
But…fuck…why does she have to smell so goddamn good tonight?
To my surprise, her hand lands on my chest as she looks up at me, a smile crossing her red-painted lips.
But the darkness in her eyes says she’s anything but interested.
“We are here to bring awareness to flamingos. It’s part of the deal.
Now, if you don’t want me posting embarrassing things about you on Flock and Tackle—”
“I’m not hiding anything embarrassing.”
“Oh yeah, then why won’t you let me google your name?”
My entire body shifts, like an earthquake of fear and anger colliding together. All thoughts of how she smells and how beautiful she looks quickly vanish. “Do not fucking joke about that,” I sneer.
“Body language,” she singsongs.
I’ll show her fucking body language.
So I lay my hand on her cheek, pushing her chin up with my thumb as I lower ever so slightly. I’m mere inches away from those red-painted lips. “Do not fucking threaten me, Baker.”
“Isn’t that what you were just doing to me, St. John?”
“I was joking.”
“Ooh, that joke fell flat. You should try—”
“Maple?” Someone interrupts us.
Together, we turn to the side, where a nerdy-looking man grins excitedly, wearing a simple suit that unfortunately fits him poorly. He has brown hair with a middle part falling over his forehead, while stupidly thin-framed glasses sit perched on his nose.
Maple gasps as she turns. “Oh my God, Hank? What are you doing here?”
Who the hell is Hank?
I can barely process the question before Maple is dropping me like a piece of trash and securing her arms around the strange man’s neck, pulling him into a hug. I watch as he loops his arms around her waist, picks her up, and starts spinning her around.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Spinning her? Seriously? He has about two fucking seconds to put her down before I do it for him.
“Holy shit,” he whispers while he sets her on her feet and looks her up and down. “Wow, Maple, you look incredible.”
“Thank you,” she says, beaming. Like, actual light is seeping from every pore in her face as she stares at this fucking nimrod. “You, wow, have you been working out?”
Have you been working out?
Uh, fucking excuse me?
He shamelessly flexes his bicep. “Oh, you know, a little.”
“Well, you look great.” She wets her lips, letting her eyes roam over him.
“So do you.”
He does the same, staring far too long at her curves for my liking.
And then silence falls, an unspoken exchange passing between them.
He smiles.
She smiles.
He shakes his head in disbelief.
She coyly tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
I stand there watching the entire exchange, my fist clenching at my side, ready and willing to break bones.
What the fuck is going on?
He laughs. “Wow, when I moved here, I thought—”
“You moved here?” she asks, bouncing on the goddamn tips of her toes.
“Yeah, about a week ago. I thought about calling you, but I didn’t know…wasn’t sure of your situation.”
“There’s no situation. I’m totally—”
“Unavailable,” I say as I step in, only towering over this guy by a few inches. I wish it was fucking more. I wish I was so much bigger than this fuck that when I stepped up next to him, his stupid little fucking knees quivered with fear.
“Yeah, I was going to say, looked like you were very much…unavailable.”
Maple stiffens next to me as I slide my arm around her waist, letting my fingers dig into the fabric of her dress.
“I’m available for coffee, though, with a friend,” she says, hope in her eyes.
“I’d really like that.” He then lifts her arm and asks, “What happened?”
“Oh, you know—”
“Things got away from us one night,” I answer for her. “Not going to use those handcuffs again, right, babe?”
I swear I can actually feel the heat building under her skin, ready to explode on me. It’s practically burning my palm and melting my fingerprints off my fingertips.
Glasses Boy looks between us, his cheeks flushing as he clears his throat. “Well, lesson learned,” he says awkwardly. “Anyway, I have an interview on Monday with your zoo.”
Maple grows stiff. “Wait, are you serious? To work with the flamingos?”
A large smile crosses his cheeks as he nods.