Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Ipadded down the hall to my closet where Frasier was measuring the space. I couldn’t stop myself from watching his forearms as they flexed. God, I loved a good forearm.
“Bryn?” Frasier asked.
“Hm?” When I met his gaze, he was watching me with a curious expression.
Crap. I’d been checking him out. Again.
His smile was bemused. “I asked what time you wanted to leave for the airport tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. Maybe eight? Hopefully evening traffic will have calmed down some by then.”
“Sounds good. Oh, I brought something for you. For the trip.” He stood and dusted off his hands before reaching into his tool bag to grab something.
He handed me a package in brown paper. It was clumsily wrapped, but I was delighted by the surprise. It was the size and shape of a book, and when I tore off the paper, I gasped.
“How?” I gaped down at it then back at him.
Frasier lifted a shoulder as if it was no big deal, but the tips of his ears were an adorable shade of pink. It was a huge freaking deal.
“But this is the new Meghan Hart and Penelope Glass book.”
I turned it over in my hands, admiring the cover and scanning the back. Not only that, it was the special edition version with foil on the cover, printed edges, and custom interior artwork. It was gorgeous, and I couldn’t wait to read it.
“It isn’t even officially published yet,” I said, astonished to be holding it in my hands. In fact, it wasn’t releasing for another week or two. It wasn’t even on the shelves.
I wasn’t surprised that Frasier had been able to score an early copy.
He was a celebrity after all, and it wouldn’t take much to pull a few strings.
But he rarely, if ever, used his status to get what he wanted.
And the fact that he’d gone to the effort—for me…
I blinked back a few tears, suddenly overcome with emotion.
“Check out the inside,” he said in a gruff voice.
I opened the cover and froze when I saw what was on the title page. My heart was pounding as I read the words.
Bryn,
The best love stories have no end. Here’s to your happily ever after.
Meghan Hart and Penelope Glass
The bridge of my nose stung at those words, scrawled in one of my favorite authors’ hands.
The best love stories have no end.
It felt like a message from the universe.
When I glanced up at Frasier, he was watching me with a wary expression. Was he worried about how I’d react? He shouldn’t have been. Not only had Frasier gotten me an early copy of a special edition book by my favorite authors, but he’d had them sign it to me.
“Oh my god. Thank you.” I nearly tackled him in my excitement.
He chuckled, and the dogs jumped at us, thinking it was playtime. Which had the effect of me tumbling forward and the four of us all but wrestling on the floor. Biscuit licked at my face, and I playfully tried to bat her away. And then Bacon joined in, and I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Oh my god.” I held my arms up to block my face, my stomach aching from laughter. Tears leaked from my eyes. “Stop.”
When the dogs wouldn’t stop, Frasier rolled so he was on top of me, shielding me from them. His muscular body was lined up with mine. Our eyes locked, and my breath caught in my throat.
Holy…
I licked my lips, and his eyes tracked the movement, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He stroked the side of my face, dragging his hand slowly down over my jaw and neck. My eyes fluttered shut briefly. Holy shit, that feels good.
When I reopened my eyes, his gaze was searching, questioning. He leaned forward ever so slightly, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Did I want him to kiss me?
He inched closer, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. I could see the golden flecks in his blue eyes. A starburst ring surrounded his pupil, and it reminded me of the time I’d seen a full solar eclipse. It had been beautiful and awe-inspiring, much like the man staring back at me.
One of the dogs barked, and I startled, nearly head-butting Frasier in the process. Luckily, he had quick reflexes, and he dodged me.
Frasier jolted upright. “I should take them out. I’ll be right back.”
It was almost as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He nearly tripped over Biscuit in his haste, and I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel rejected. Because what the hell was that?
I stood and smoothed down my hair, trying to calm my racing heart. I wondered what would’ve happened if we hadn’t been interrupted. I wondered—again—if Frasier had been going to kiss me, or if he’d simply gotten caught up in the moment.
I placed my hand on my neck, remembering the feel of his touch. The way he’d looked at me intently as he’d slid his hand over my skin. Sparks still danced from where he’d touched me.
I sighed and headed toward my bedroom. My hands were shaky as I placed my new book in my carry-on bag.
I still couldn’t believe he’d given me a signed copy of an unreleased book by my favorite authors.
I couldn’t think of a more perfect gift.
And the fact that Frasier had known, had gone to the trouble, meant more than anything.
Why had he done that?
Because we were friends, and it was a thoughtful gift?
I was tempted to text Georgia to ask for her opinion, but I also didn’t want to read too much into the situation.
I hadn’t dated anyone since college, and that was nearly ten years ago.
I was out of practice. But Frasier’s and my wrestling match had sent my brain into overdrive, and now I was overthinking everything.
When Frasier returned a few minutes later with the dogs in tow, he said nothing and neither did I.
He merely resumed working on the shelving, acting as if the almost-kiss had never happened.
But my body was still tingling from his proximity.
From the way he’d looked at me, hovered over me, his eyes heavy with desire.
I rolled my lips between my teeth. If the almost-kiss had made things this awkward, I could only imagine how bad it would have been if we’d actually kissed.
“That escalated quickly,” I joked, feeling the need to say something about what had happened. “Sorry for tackling you.” I laughed nervously.
He chuckled, and it dispelled some of the tension inside me. “Maybe you should join Logan on the ice if you’re going to start body checking people.”
“Not sure I’m cut out for that.” I grinned.
“You’re tougher than you look.”
My chest warmed from his compliment. He always knew just what to say to build me up.
“Thank you again for the book.” I met his eyes, wishing I could convey just how much it meant to me. “It’ll be perfect reading for our trip.”
We were scheduled to fly from LA to Miami. After that, we’d board another plane to Anguilla.
He kept his attention on the shelves when he spoke. “I’m glad you like it.”
Biscuit nudged me with her head, begging me to pet her. We lapsed into a comfortable silence as I smoothed my hand over her soft fur. Frasier continued installing the organizers.
“This is going to look so good when it’s done,” I said, admiring the space. “It already does.”
I’d moved Derek’s clothes to the guest closet almost a year ago. I couldn’t handle walking in to get dressed and being confronted with the memories every day. But a half-empty closet wasn’t much better. Now, finally, the closet was going to feel intentional instead of sad.
Frasier nodded. “Hopefully I can finish tonight so you can put your closet back in order before we go.”
“No rush,” I said. “And you know you can come over just to hang out, right? You don’t have to work on a project.”
“I like doing projects.”
“I know, but…” I focused on Biscuit, forcing out the words. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”
The corner of Frasier’s mouth twitched. “Maybe I want you to use me.”
Had I imagined it, or was there a suggestive undercurrent to his tone? Either way, his words and the way in which he’d said them had flooded my mind with lascivious images of all the ways I could use him.
But when I glanced up at him, I quickly dismissed the idea. Frasier was just being Frasier. It was playful banter, nothing more. Just like our tussle on the floor was playful, nothing more. Right?
“I just…” I think I’m going crazy. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you or that this relationship is one-sided.”
“Bryn.” He looked at me, his eyes piercing mine. “Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you every time you make me a home-cooked meal?”
I frowned. “No. Of course not.”
I enjoyed cooking, and it was more fun to cook for someone rather than just myself.
After Derek’s death, there’d been a stretch of time where neither food nor cooking sounded appetizing.
It was easier now, but it wasn’t the same.
Food had become something that I ate because I had to, not because I wanted to.
I wasn’t motivated to cook for myself, but I was happy to cook for Frasier. It made me feel useful, good, especially since I followed the meal plans from the team’s nutritionist, Maggie. And in doing so, I fueled my body with healthy, nutritious meals.
“What about when you keep the dogs or take them to the vet?”
Was he kidding? I loved Biscuit and Bacon. I loved spending time with them, caring for them. I’d been skeptical when Frasier had first proposed the arrangement, but it had worked out great.
“I like doing that. I’m happy to do that.” More than happy. I loved Bacon and Biscuit; they made me feel loved and accepted and seen.
“Then trust that I like doing this for you. ’Kay?” He held my gaze, until I nodded.
“Okay,” I said, though I still felt like he was a better friend than I was. Or maybe I just felt guilty about the fact that I’d conned him into attending my sister’s destination wedding with me under false pretenses.
Tell him!
I can’t tell him, I argued with myself.