Chapter 16 – Dylan
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DYLAN
Coffee.
I need coffee.
Half asleep, I roll out of the empty bed and shuffle toward the bathroom, my head down, my body sluggish from a sleepless night spent pressed against?—
Oh.
My . . .
A very hard, very wet chest cuts off my thoughts as Grady opens the bathroom door the same time I put my hand on its knob.
“Whoa,” he says with a laugh as I look down to avert my eyes, only to end up looking right at the bulge in the towel. Flustered, I look up. His eyes are amused. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” I pull at his shirt I have on.
“No biggie.” He shrugs. “It’s bound to happen in such close quarters.”
We stare at each other longer than we should. I’m embarrassed but still standing there, and he’s amused, obviously enjoying my mortification.
“Thank you for the clothes last night.”
“It was either that or let you sleep naked. I thought you’d prefer the former.”
“It was very considerate. All of this is. You letting me stay here. You not telling Jett to get out, even though you should have. You pretending?—”
“Not a problem.” He shifts his feet, and his eyes flicker to my T-shirt.
“Are we done here?” For some reason I follow his hand as he holds the towel together. But it isn’t his hand that wins my attention. It’s his dick, which is starting to fly half-mast against the thin piece of terrycloth.
“Yes. Sorry. I’ll let you go.” I snap my eyes up as his chuckle fills the room when he walks around me.
“Tonight I’ll make sure the window stays closed. That way you’re not so, uh, cold in the morning,” he says over his shoulder as he skirts past me and over to his dresser.
Cold?
It’s then that I look down to find my nipples hard and more than pressing against the fabric of his shirt.
* * *
With the buzz of coffee in our blood and the fresh air surrounding us, I’ve been able to shove down the tumult that Jett being here has caused and focus solely on the music.
If I keep my head down, if I don’t meet his eyes, if I don’t remember our past, I can keep this professional.
That’s a whole hell of a lot of if I’s and yet it’s what I need right now.
And so far it’s been successful since Jett and I have already powered through our second song of the morning.
It feels just like old times.
And yet nothing like it at all.
“I think we leave that one be, and we’ll polish it up when you come back next month,” Jett says as he flips the page of one of my notebooks and starts a fresh sheet.
“Next month?”
“Yeah. Didn’t Ava tell you?”
“I’m not coming back next month. More like two or three months.” More time away from you. But a call to Ava is needed and an explanation as to why she hasn’t told me any of this herself is required.
“Not going to happen. I told Callum you’d be there for the next scheduled studio time. In fact, he demanded it. It’s on the calendar so you better figure a way to get that cute ass of yours back to LA in time.”
“I’ll show up, but I’m not staying.”
“Yes, you will.”
“No, I won’t,” I groan. “Why is he so adamant I be there anyway?”
“He wants a progress report on what we have so far so they can direct us if they feel we’re off track on the vibe.”
“They what? Since when do they review the songs before they’re finished?” I’m trying not to get my hackles up here, but in all the time I’ve been writing for Excel, I’ve never had a babysitting meeting.
“Since you weren’t there and since I’m me.” He chuckles unapologetically like it’s funny when it’s anything but. “I had to promise. You know they have a lot riding on this release. With the state of the industry and singles selling far better than whole albums, they’re trying a new marketing scheme this time around. They want every song to be a hit.”
I look at him like he’s crazy. “Isn’t that always the goal?”
“Yeah, but you know what I mean. It’s a big?—”
“You need anything, honey?” Grady asks as he walks onto the porch and presses a kiss to the top of my head. He leaves his lips there for a beat longer than the kiss lasts, and the warmth of his breath heating my scalp only serves to remind me of the heat of his body as he cuddled with me during the night.
Something neither of us discussed after meeting each other the way we did earlier. With him almost naked and me horny .
“What are you guys up to today?”
“Writing songs,” Jett says as if Grady’s a dumb shit. The muscle in Grady’s jaw pulses as he clenches back the smartass remark I can tell is on the tip of his tongue.
“Great idea. The sooner you get them done, the quicker you can head out. I’m sure you’re dying to get back home to all of your adoring fans. I mean, you’re so very generous to let them in your house and to sleep with you, too.”
The two men have a silent pissing match through visual warfare while I sit between them.
“Do you have something to say, Grady?” Jett pops his neck to the side as if he’s prepping for a fight.
“No, he doesn’t,” I interrupt, not wanting anything to happen between them because of me. The easier this is, the quicker the songs are done, and the sooner Jett leaves. Besides, I have enough bitterness for the lot of us.
“Yeah,” Grady steps forward, ignoring my comment. “What’s that saying? One man’s fuck-up is another man’s good fortune? Thanks for fucking up, Kroger.”
“I don’t have to put up with this shit .”
“You’re right. You don’t.” Grady’s fuck-you smile is in full effect. “There’s a Best Western down the street if you’d prefer to stay there shit -free.”
Jett shakes his head, starts to walk away then stops, and turns back around with a smarmy look on his face. “Tell me something, Grady,” Jett says as he narrows his eyes. “You two sure seemed to get cozy awfully quick. So much so I’m wondering if you weren’t stealing my girl before she broke things off with me.”
Oh. Shit.
Why didn’t I think of this before? Because I didn’t have to. Spending most of my days holed up writing had allowed me to fly under the radar in Sunnyville. No one had connected the dots with who I was and how I was associated with Jett. I’d been free.
How stupid could I have been?
I stare at Jett, wide-eyed and flat-footed, and just as I’m about to open my mouth and say something, anything , Grady steps in without skipping a beat.
“I’m a friend of Damon’s. Dyl and I had met several times before, flirted, kissed.” He shrugs as if it’s a fact. “But we were always in different places, different paths . . . so thanks to your fuck-up, now we’re right where we need to be.”
Grady completely disregards whatever reaction Jett gives next, lifts my mug from my hands, and takes a sip. He fights the grimace at my blacker than black coffee, which is a far cry from the sugar-and-creamer-loaded mess he normally drinks.
“What are your plans today?” I ask him.
“Gotta help my dad with a few things. Then maybe go shoot the shit with my brothers, have a few drinks. You’re welcome to come.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my lips, which throws me off guard. I know this is all for show, but damn, it doesn’t seem to matter how Grady kisses—a peck, a brush, tongue, all in—because he makes my stomach flutter each and every time.
Even though I know it’s fake.
Because it is fake.
Someone just needs to tell my body that.
And my heart.