Chapter Twenty-Four MADISON
Chapter Twenty-Four
MADISON
After Graham and Allie left, I found myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling above me. With the small night-light in the corner, I could just make out the knots in the wood. I counted them again and again, trying to determine if they formed anything resembling a constellation.
It didn’t help derail my train of thought.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the look in Graham’s eyes in the kitchen—that dark flicker of desire that sent fiery heat sliding through my veins.
Without thinking, I was slipping my hand over my belly and dipping my fingers between my thighs to find myself slick with need for him.
After I brought myself to a quick orgasm, I felt unsatisfied. I knew just how much better it was with him.
I didn’t see Graham for a few days—not at the coffee shop in town and not driving by on the road—but it didn’t matter.
He crowded every corner of my mind. I wanted to see him again, and I knew it wasn’t practical.
I knew he had to think I was ridiculous.
The homecoming queen who didn’t know how to start a fire.
I was a quick study, though. Since he’d shown me how to start one, I’d had several fires in the fireplace.
I’d also taught myself how to split wood.
One evening, with a fire snapping and crackling in the fireplace and Wilbur dozing on the floor in front of it, my phone vibrated. I glanced down to see a text from Graham.
Graham: Mind if I stop by?
My thumbs were typing out a reply before my brain could catch up.
Me: Of course not.
As soon as I hit send and lowered the phone, I smacked the heel of my hand to my forehead. You never play it cool. It’s ridiculous for you to seem so eager. He’s probably just stopping by to…
I didn’t know why he was stopping by and couldn’t come up with a benign reason. My hopeful hormones had an idea, though. Maybe it’s a booty call because we would totally love a booty call.
I was a little worried. I’d never even been in a casual relationship at all.
Except for Graham, I’d gotten engaged to the only other guy I’d done more than kiss.
I leaned my head back with a groan, and Wilbur looked up from his perch.
My phone vibrated in my hand again. I glanced down to see Graham’s reply.
Graham: Okay, be there in a few.
I leaped up and dashed down the hallway, practically skidding into the bathroom.
I flicked on the light and stared at myself in the mirror.
Snatching a brush out of the drawer, I ran it through my hair quickly.
I debated putting on a swipe of lipstick, but that seemed ridiculous.
I was just hanging out at home by myself because that was basically all I did these days.
I heard a heavy knock on the front door. Eyeing myself critically, I shook my head. I was being silly for worrying about my appearance.
Wilbur let out a bark, and I heard the sound of his claws as he crossed to the entryway.
Turning the light off in the bathroom, I forced myself to walk at a normal pace down the hallway.
I didn’t need to seem too eager. My pulse ignored my orders, beating out a wild staccato rhythm, the echo of it resounding through my body.
I felt hot and tingly all over. When I reached the door, I forced myself to take a deep breath.
Another moment later, there was another knock, and I felt foolish.
When I finally opened the door, my breath seized in my lungs, and my pulse skidded out of control.
Sweet hell. Graham was just standing there.
He had a hand hooked over the upper door jamb.
With his arm lifted, his Henley shirt rose slightly.
My eyes landed on the thin strip of skin exposed just above his jeans.
I wanted to lean down and lick it. He was very lickable, all of him.
Unfortunately for me, I knew he tasted good.
My hormones were making a messy racket—overexuberant like an eager puppy—at the sight of him.
“Hi,” I said, rather breathlessly.
“Hi.” He was curt and not breathless.
His eyes swept over my face, dipping down and then back up. I wiggled my toes self-consciously. “Can I come in?” he prompted.
“Oh, right. Of course.”
I stepped back, and Wilbur circled his ankles in greeting.
My little heart swooned when Graham knelt to give him a proper hello, scratching him under the chin and letting him lick his cheek.
My former fiancé had never loved Wilbur all that much.
Graham’s kindness toward Wilbur was like catnip for my libido.
He straightened, and I opened the door wider.
“You can hang your jacket up.” I waved vaguely in the direction of the hooks on the wall nearby.
Without a word, he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it.
My eyes greedily soaked up the sight of his broad shoulders shifting under his shirt as he moved.
He toed off his boots and followed me into the living room.
His eyes landed on the fire and bounced to me as his lips curled in a slow grin.
His grins were dangerous. This one sent my belly spinning.
“I see you started a fire yourself.”
I nodded. “I even chopped the wood.” I felt ridiculous as soon as I said that.
If Graham thought I was foolish, it didn’t show.
He nodded firmly as if he were proud of me.
That gave me a little flush of pride followed immediately by that foolish feeling again.
There were few areas in my life where I felt competent.
Aside from my work, I’d felt like a desert of cluelessness over the past year.
It hadn’t helped to have my fiancé dump me and watch as the friends I’d thought were my friends blow away like tumbleweeds in the wind.
I took a breath. That wasn’t my life anymore.
I didn’t need to worry about it. While I felt foolish and insecure around Graham about a whole host of things, I didn’t worry at all that he cared one iota about my financial situation or my father’s business and connections.
He would probably find it hysterical that I’d once cared about it.
I gave myself another mental kick. For crying out loud, all I could focus on was the negative.
I spun away, waving at the fire. “Thanks to you, I know how to start a fire. Anyway,” I said brightly, “what were you stopping by for?”
Graham suddenly looked uncomfortable when I turned to face him again.
It was then I noticed he held a plastic bag in his hand.
What with all his hotness distracting me, I supposed I could be forgiven for my weak powers of observation.
He let it slide into his other hand as he opened it.
He cleared his throat when he looked up at me, an endearing uncertainty entering his eyes.
“Allie wants to dye her hair. I don’t know if I got the right stuff. ”
He handed me the bag. “You want my help?” I pressed, unsure what he needed. “Is Allie with you?”
He shook his head quickly. “No, she’s on a camping trip. She’ll be back the day after tomorrow, and I wanted to surprise her.” He gestured at the bag. “Did I get the right stuff?”
Peering inside the bag, I saw not one but four boxes of hair dye, the kind one would get at a pharmacy. I pulled a box out. “What color does she want?”
“She said burgundy and pink.” Graham ran a hand through his hair.
“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the couch.
The poor man looked lost. He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees when I sat down nearby. “Looks like you’ve got the right colors.”
“Is that temporary?” he prompted.
I nodded. “Most everything you get at the drugstore is temporary, I promise. Even when it’s done professionally, nothing’s permanent. If it looks awful, it won’t last very long so you don’t need to stress.”
“Should I have gotten something else for her?”
As I sat there, I mulled over what to say. In my old life, I used to spend a lot of money on my hair.
“You seem like the kind of person who would know about hair,” he added as if he’d read my mind.
I shrugged. “Maybe.” My stylist in Houston would’ve thrown these boxes away. I wasn’t going to share that with Graham.
I couldn’t believe I ever thought the brand of hair dye mattered. It was sweet that he got them for Allie, especially knowing he initially told her she couldn’t dye her hair. “This will do the trick for her.”
“But is it what you would get?” he pressed.
I brushed my hair over my shoulder, letting it slide over my hand as I lifted it. “My hair’s really dark.”
He cleared his throat, his eyes darkening slightly as his chin dipped. “Right. You have dark hair,” he said, stating the obvious.
“My hair’s not easy to color, so when I do it, I have it done professionally because they have to lighten it first and so on.” I let my fingers slide through the locks as I looked back toward him.
“Allie’s hair is brown.”
“I know, but it’s definitely lighter than mine. I’m sure these will work.”
“Maybe I should try something different.”
I shook my head quickly. Before I realized what I was doing, I put my hand on his thigh. “She should try this first. Stop worrying so much.”
His shoulders rose with a deep breath, falling as he let it out in a whoosh. “Can you help her with this? This is out of my league.”
“Of course I’ll help.” My heart squeezed tightly. This side of Graham, the uncertain father trying to help his teenage daughter dye her hair, was too sweet for words. He was a good man, the best kind of man.
He let out another sigh. “Thank you.”
My hand was still on his leg, and I realized it in a split second. The heat of his thigh radiated into my palm, and I couldn’t bring myself to move it away even though I tried to tell myself I had to.