Chapter 11 Grayson
grayson
Now that is what I call a productive morning.
I left the hotel room before Kat could come back out—I knew I had the upper hand after my not-so-accidental shower move—and headed down to the coffee shop at the hotel.
I found the perfect booth, got a sandwich and the best Americano I’ve had in a while, and put together a presentation that’s going to wow Declan and Howard.
From the second I sat down, the ideas started pouring from me. Podcasts. YouTube channels. Travel channel shows. That’s what’s going to put the Timberline on the national map. Unfortunately, I know who I work for, and they’re going to want to make sure I include the tried-and-true methods.
Or as I call them, boring. Local media buys. Making the rounds with the local television and radio stations. That kind of approach. I hate having to keep going back to that, but when your boss tells you to include them, you do.
Hopefully, it doesn’t put me behind whatever ideas Kat’s coming up with.
No, I’m not going to worry about her. I can only control what I’m doing, and what I can do is give them the best options—or as I’m calling it, a little bit of everything—and head into the holiday with a win.
And if it’s a win that makes my family partially proud of me and beats Kat—wait, Katherine—than all the better.
With a huge feeling of confidence, I close my laptop, knowing that it’s time to get a move on for my meeting. It’s just before noon, and as long as the restaurant isn’t too busy, I’ll be able to grab a sandwich before heading back to the room to get ready.
“Sit wherever you'd like," one of the waitresses says. "It's open seating at lunch."
"Thank you.” I look around the restaurant, eyeing my choice of tables. I spy one along the window, giving me a fantastic view of the mountains, but then I realize who’s also grabbing a bite.
Kat. Who’s having lunch with Declan.
What. The. Fuck.
I glare at the two of them, who I don’t think have realized I’m here, as I pull out my chair and take a seat. Though, I should invite myself to sit with them. Declan had no problem doing it last night, might as well repay the favor.
I don’t. No, I opt to sit six tables away and just glare. Not something I should be doing to the man I need to like me and my presentation in an hour. Or something I should be doing to a woman who has said loud and clear that we don’t have a future together. Yet, I can’t seem to help it.
The feelings I have for Kat, Katherine, whatever the hell her name is, are conflicting as hell.
Because how do I in one breath want to beat her professionally, but in the next, pull her into my arms and never let her go?
I know she said that in professional settings she goes by Katherine, and part of me wishes that’s how we could be.
That Katherine and Grayson could be rivals by day, but Kat and Grayson could be together by night.
It sounds like a storyline out of a fantasy book. Then again, that’s all Kat and I can ever be—a fantasy.
"What can I get for you?" the waitress who greeted me earlier asks.
“Club sandwich and an iced tea,” I grit out, my eyes still trained on the two of them.
Luckily, the waitress picks up that I'm not especially chatty and walks away. For real, though, what the hell are they talking about? Why is she laughing? He can’t be that funny.
Did they move up their meeting? No, that wouldn’t make sense, as Howard’s nowhere to be seen.
Are they friends? Did they have a relationship before this past weekend?
No, I remember them saying that he knew Logan, but the two of them had never met.
I watch them closely, trying to get a read on their body language.
Is he hitting on her? I mean, I get why if he is.
She's a beautiful woman. I thought he was flirting last night—it’s why I’ve been acting the way I have—but looking at them now, I don’t get that vibe.
Neither of them are leaning into each other.
Sure, she’s laughing at something he said.
He’s smiling as well as he cuts up a piece of his chicken. Nothing seems out of line.
Then again, if he is, it’s wildly inappropriate.
She’s presenting to him later. He’s a decision-maker for this business.
It’s an imbalance in the power dynamic, and it’s shitty if he’s trying to exploit her as a woman to use to his business advantage.
I’ve seen men in my own company do this, and it’s fucking horse shit.
If I knew that someone ever did that to my sister, I’d tear them limb from limb.
Then again, my sister would stomp on their dicks, tie them up in lawsuits, and smile about it as she walked away in ridiculously high heels.
Now that I calm myself a bit, I don’t see Kat allowing that to happen either. She’s a smart woman. Quick to pick up on things. And clearly can hold herself in the business world.
Wait…why do I care? I shouldn’t. Sure, I want to make sure their meeting isn’t giving her an unfair advantage in the business sense, but personally, I shouldn’t give two shits.
Except I do. Because as much as I know things could never work between us, I can’t turn off the switch when it comes to this woman.
I shake my head a bit, trying concentrate on anything except the two of them. I get lost in the notes I left for myself on my phone when I hear Kat’s laughter coming toward me.
“Oh! Grayson!” she says cheerily. “When did you get here?”
“Few minutes ago,” I say through gritted teeth. Because apparently I have no other way of talking when the two of them are together. “You two had lunch?”
Declan holds up his hands in surrender. “She was eating alone, and I thought she could use some company. I promise we didn't talk about anything to do with the job. That wouldn't be fair.”
My gut reaction is to believe him. I should be happier about that than I am. “So what did you two talk about?"
My pettiness might be able to take a back seat, but my curiosity can't.
“I was telling him about my trip to St. Lucia for Christmas,” Kat says. “Turns out he’s been there and he was giving me some sights to see. Well, the ones that don’t have me going on an all-day excursion.”
“Do you know this woman isn’t an excursion girl?” he asks. “She’d rather lay on the beach all day then go hike the trails and mountains.”
“I did,” I say, puffing my chest out a little. “I believe she likes to call herself ‘outside-y, not outdoorsy.’”
The smile she gives me hits me square in the chest. Neither of us say anything as we share a knowing look, until Declan breaks the silence.
“I need to get back to the office. See you both shortly.”
I nod. “See you then.”
We both watch Declan walk away, but neither of us go anywhere.
“You remembered.”
I could play it coy, but I chose not to. “I remember everything.”
My words seem to surprise her as our gazes lock. The heat and want and desire that passes through us in this moment is overwhelming. I know she can feel it. I see her eyes swirling with emotion. I imagine it’s how mine look.
We both want each other. But we both know the line in the sand is drawn. We can’t.
And it fucking sucks.
I want to kiss her. I want it more than my next breath. I want to say fuck our jobs, fuck everything that I thought, fuck whatever is holding her back, and just kiss her. Take her in my arms and never let her go. Run off to that beach in St. Lucia and start a life selling rental chairs on a beach.
And I’m about to. I’m this close to taking a step in when the sound of Santa Claus breaks our spell.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!”
Kat and I both turn to see Howard coming through the lobby, Santa suit on, despite it still being three days before Christmas.
I’m distracted for just a few seconds, but it’s long enough to give Kat an opening to leave.
When I notice, she’s already half way to the elevator, power-walking away like her life depends on it.
I want to run after her. I want to recreate the elevator magic that I know we have.
But I can’t.
I have a job to do.
And for the first time in my professional life, I want to say “fuck the job.”
Nailed it.
I don’t know how a presentation could’ve gone any better.
I even genuinely smiled at Declan and had a great discussion with him about utilizing influencers.
It spun off into a conversation about all the things people can do in the Smoky Mountains that I had no idea about.
The Northeastern guy in me just thought it was hiking and horseback riding.
He’s not so bad I guess. At least, when Kat’s not involved.
I walk to the elevator to head back to the room riding a high, but as soon as the elevator door closes, I feel the crash from the adrenaline wearing off starting to hit.
It’s been a chaotic forty-eight hours, and all I want right now is a hot shower and a solid nap.
I barely slept last night and have a feeling the same will be true tonight.
I check my watch to see that it's just before four o'clock. My guess is that Kat is probably in the room—AKA the neutral zone—getting ready for her presentation. I should leave her alone. When she ran from the lobby earlier to the elevator, I assumed she’d be here, but I didn’t see her when I came up to get ready.
But I have no plans on messing with her, or even engaging in conversation.
She can do what she needs to get ready as long as she’ll let me borrow the bed for two hours to take the best nap of my life before I have to drive to Knoxville to catch my flight to Connecticut.
When I open the door to our room, I’m immediately struck by music playing from the bathroom.
I don’t know why, but I expected that if Kat was listening to music while getting ready for a presentation, she’d have on some sort of rap music.
Maybe a pregame warmup kind of playlist. But no, the song that’s playing now is a sultry one, deep tones that hit you square in the chest.
Or maybe it’s hitting me because of the vision I’m looking at.
I don’t mean to stare at Kat through the crack in the bathroom door that gives a view of the mirror, but it’s the first thing I see when I walk in the room. She’s wearing nothing but a nude color bra and panties while putting on her makeup—though she doesn't need an ounce of it.
The makeup reminds me of the first night we met. It’s subtle. Her eyeliner isn’t as drastic as when I saw her here at the Timberline that first day. Her lipstick isn’t bold at all, yet still has a power to it. Her hair is back into a tight bun, screaming queen of the board room.
And then it hits me. This is Katherine Smith.
This is the persona she wears when she’s in work mode.
First I thought Katherine was just her more formal name, which is why she went by it professionally, but now I’m thinking it’s much deeper than that.
That this woman keeps business and pleasure so separate that she has to go by another name to help her compartmentalize.
I wonder why? Is it just a preference? Did something happen? Is that why she has the rules in place? Holy shit…that first night…she introduced herself as Kat. Her hair was down. But it was this subtle makeup. Beige lingerie.
That night I was with both these women. One my nemesis, the other my obsession. And I don’t know which one I’m more attracted to.
Transfixed by the scene before me, I drop my bookbag at the doorway, my idea for a nap long gone.
It’s like I can’t stop myself from walking toward her.
She’s a magnet pulling me in. I’m almost to the door when she finally makes eye contact with me, but she doesn’t tell me to stop.
She doesn’t tell me to stay away. She doesn’t say anything.
She doesn't need to. Our eyes do all the talking.
We want each other. We want each other so fucking bad neither of us can stand it.
But more than that, we want to win. It's where we're both alike. Neither of us are going to give in; neither of us are going to cross that line. But dammit if we’re both not going to walk that line like the tightrope it is.
I push open the door, and she makes no attempt to stop me.
I step behind her, taking in her perfect body through the mirror, like it’s on display just for me.
I can’t help but look straight at her chest, her full tits propped up perfectly in a nude lace bra.
The boy shorts she’s wearing match, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to rip them down her legs so I can see if she’s wet for me.
I’m not even touching her, but I can see the goosebumps forming on her skin.
I can tell from the defiant look in her eye that she’s trying to will them away, but it’s a losing effort.
“How’d it go?” she asks in an attempt to reclaim the upper hand.
“Good,” I say as I step closer, allowing our bodies to touch ever so slightly. Just enough to ignite the spark that always lies between us without setting the room on fire.
“Enough to win?”
I know she’s trying to taunt me with her question—it’s what I would do if the roles were reversed—but I know how well I did. Which is why I can play this cool. “I like my chances.”
I step closer into her, allowing my hardening cock to barely rub against her.
God, what I wouldn’t give to bend her over this counter and fuck her from behind.
Be able to watch her face as I drive into her.
Take that bun out of her hair while my dick is buried inside of her, wrapping her black hair around my hand and pulling on it, arching her back as she screams my name.
But I don’t. I don’t cross the line. As much as I’m dying to.
“We can’t do this,” she says.
“I know.”
My voice is low in her ear, barely above a whisper. We’re still not touching, but the heat radiating between us is enough to start a fire that would set this hotel into a blaze.
“We should walk away.”
“I know.”
But neither of us do, not until the timer goes off on Kat’s phone, which I’m guessing is the alarm signaling that she has to go to meet with Declan and Howard.
I step away, allowing Kat to exit the bathroom before I lock myself inside. I don’t even wait until she leaves before I turn on the shower to the coldest setting I can stand. I pray that she’s left when I start jacking off, needing relief because of the woman who’s going to be the death of me.
She’s my competition.
She’s my dream woman.
And I have a feeling she’s going to be my biggest heartbreak.