Chapter 14
fourteen
. . .
Grant
"Why is a reporter asking me if Sophia Ford is staying at your house?" Lucas leans his head around the doorframe of my office, his brow furrowed with a mixture of confusion and concern, maybe even a hint of suspicion.
I'm seated behind my expansive mahogany desk, covered with scattered scripts and budget docs, when he interrupts my morning. The memories of last night flood my mind—Sophia in my arms, her lips brushing across mine. God, I wanted more, but we can't. I can't.
"Because she is," I tell him, my voice deliberately casual.
Lucas has now fully entered my office, and he drops into one of the chairs facing my desk. I can feel his gaze—assessing, probing. He knows me too well.
"Why is she staying at your house?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.
I lean back in my leather chair and run my hands over my face before dragging them up to rest on the top of my head. "Her house flooded. The entire second floor is basically sitting in her kitchen and living room. I offered her the guest house until she can figure out what to do."
"You just offered…" Lucas leaves the sentence hanging, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.
I know exactly what he's implying. That this isn't just about helping a friend, that there's something more simmering beneath the surface.
"Hm," Lucas says, that single sound loaded with meaning.
"Hm. What?"
He rises from the chair, his professional mode switching on. "I'll let the press know what's happening, but I'll ask them not to print anything. Protect Sophia's privacy. She doesn't need random journalists camping outside her place, hoping for some tabloid-worthy story."
"Thanks," I mutter.
"You'll let me know if there's anything else there?" Lucas asks, and we both know he's not talking about the flood damage.
"What do you mean?"
I run my hands across the scruff on my face, a tell I've never been able to hide. I know exactly what he means, but there's no way I'm mentioning last night. That was a fluke, a one-time thing that shouldn't have happened and won't happen again.
"When's the last time you had anyone stay in your guest house?" Lucas probes.
"I've never had anyone stay in there."
"Hm."
"What?"
He stands there, glaring at me with that look—the same one my mother used to give me when she knew I was lying through my teeth.
"Just let me know if there is anything else going on," Lucas says. "It would not be great if the paparazzi or some nosy reporters fabricated their own version of the truth."
"There's nothing going on," I insist.
"Fine."
He leaves me alone with thoughts of Sophia, and my mind wanders back to her body pressed against mine. I'm getting hard just thinking about it.
I wanted to give in to her, sink into her lips, and run my hands down her body. I wanted to pick her up, carry her into the guest house, and lay her on the bed. I'm drawn to her. She has this magnetic pull over me; it's almost like a trance I fall into.
I shake my head like I'm shaking the thoughts of her off my brain, and as I'm attempting to get back to work, my phone lights up.
WYATT
Jake and I are nearby. Want to grab lunch?
The guilt and shame that wash over me are palpable. Wyatt is Sophia's brother and a really good dude. I also met him at the Pink Slip premiere last year when I accompanied Blair as her date. But they ended up disappearing together, and that's how I ended up getting to know Sophia better.
Since then, I've gotten to know Wyatt better, too—and, by extension, his best friend, Jake.
Our circles had overlapped before, given the kind of deals Jake brokers for actors and directors, but back then, he was just another name in the industry.
Now, after a few shared conversations and crossing paths at all the industry events, he's become a good friend.
He's sharp, quick with a comeback, and loyal to a fault.
ME
Yeah, tell me where and when and I'll meet you there.
It's probably better for me to get out of the office and reset anyway.
And I need nothing more than a stark reminder that trying to do anything with Sophia is a bad idea.
Between working with her, hanging out with her brother, and the huge age gap, the obstacles are high.
Not to mention that whole "I have a daughter" thing.
Sophia doesn't even know if she wants kids.
As I cross through the heavy wooden doors of The Smokehouse, I alert the hostess I'm meeting Jake and Wyatt.
She walks me through the maze of white tablecloths and past the old-fashioned red leather booths until we're on the other side of the bar, and I spot the two of them seated at the farthest table back, nearest the windows that face the studio lot.
The restaurant is iconic and popular with industry professionals, and there's always a chance you'll see a few celebrities with a basket of cheese bread and a few bottles of wine. I see the guys already have the cheese bread ready to go.
Guilt rushes front and center at the idea that I almost kissed—kinda kissed—Wyatt's baby sister. Does he even know she's staying with me?
"Jake, Wyatt, I trust you both are well?"
I decide right then to lock down any mention of Sophia. If she wants Wyatt to know she's staying with me, then she can tell him. I'll let her handle that conversation.
"Living the dream. Literally," Wyatt says. He's beaming, and I have no doubt it's because of Blair. I can't imagine what it must feel like to have love, lose it, and then find each other again. It sounds painful.
The server arrives and takes our order, and we slip into the small talk. That's better than what's really on my mind.
"Did you settle on a venue yet?" Wyatt and Blair are finally getting married.
I'm pretty sure he would have married her the minute they agreed to move in together, but she was focused on opening her new agency, and Wyatt finally left the chains of his father's law firm to work over at Hays and Cole.
They both decided to tackle one big life change at a time.
"We're close. All the places we like are either way too big or way too small."
"There's a joke in there somewhere," Jake says as he reaches for another slice of cheese bread.
"What about you?" I ask. "How's wedded bliss?"
A deep sigh escapes Jake before he answers, and I worry it's not going well.
"Fantastic. I love being married. Someone to come home to and share your day with.
A hand to hold, a body to love. I love the idea of having someone to share my hopes and dreams with or being able to share the details of a hard day.
" He trails off as if he's remembering a recent conversation he had with Lauren.
I'll admit, all of that sounds nice.
"Sounds like you're still in that honeymoon phase."
"One year coming up in July."
The server interrupts the love fest at the table and delivers lunch, and I brace myself for Manmorial weekend planning.
It's the annual guys' trip to San Diego to play golf.
I'm sure it may have been a little wild in previous years, but I have a feeling it's tamed quite a bit.
I'm just excited to be included in the fun this year.
However, we don't talk about the trip. Instead, I'm blindsided by Wyatt's question.
"What about you, Grant? Think you'll ever get married? Would Hazel be ok with a stepmom?"
My immediate reaction is no—at least, no to ever getting married.
Would Hazel want a stepmom? Maybe. The way she was instantly drawn to Sophia and led her around our house like she was her best friend did something to my heart.
It made it ache with a little concern that maybe I'm depriving her of another woman's influence because I'm so comfortable without it.
"I think that ship has sailed."
"Are you kidding me?" Jake says. "You are in your prime. Most eligible bachelor in town and a single dad. I can't imagine the numbers you must get."
"It's also hard to tell the seriously interested from the seriously deranged."
We all nod in understanding. This town is full of superficial and selfish people. Even if I wanted to date, it would take a serious amount of time to ensure I was dating someone with all the right intentions. There are agents and PR reps setting up love matches for a reason.
"That's how Sophia feels, too. I imagine you both have the same issues. I guess I'm lucky I was just a boring lawyer who worked for his dad."
"You're lucky you knew Blair," Jake says. "Dating is hard. I remember a time when I didn't think I was going to find anyone. It's hard to trust people in this town. But when I met Lauren, she didn't even ask what I did for a living until our third date. It was nice."
I catch a sour look on Wyatt's face and wonder what that is all about. But I want to hear more about Sophia.
"I don't think I've ever seen much about Sophia dating," I say, digging into my salad to appear unattached to this conversation.
"She doesn't date at all now," Wyatt says. "She was burned pretty bad by her co-star in Code Crusaders. I'm not exactly sure what happened; it's probably better I don't know."
He fucked her over is what happened. But I don't say that out loud.
I remember the headlines when they got together, but there weren't many about the end.
That's why I was so surprised when she shared what really happened.
From what I saw, the show ended, and they fizzled out.
I want to ask Wyatt more questions, but that wouldn't be appropriate since I'm not interested in Sophia in that way.
In fact, I shouldn't even be wondering about her love life at all.
She's a colleague and friend who needs a place to stay while she sorts out her home catastrophe.
"She's young. She has plenty of time to date," I say casually, but the thought of her dating makes the salad settle like lead in my stomach. The fact that someone else might be on the receiving end of her eager kiss or have those legs wrapped around their waist annoys me.
"Ok, enough about the women. Let's talk golf," Wyatt says as he rubs his hands together like he's an evil genius.
"Let's talk handicap. I'm going to need an advantage for my first Manmorial weekend." I laugh, and for a minute, I wonder what it would be like if I were sitting here with Wyatt and Jake, knowing our women would be getting together the same weekend to celebrate girl time without their men.
For the first time in my life, the idea of someone waiting for me at home doesn't sound so terrifying.