Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Grace
I’d just painted my nails and toes, and laid out my dress for work in the morning, when someone tapped on my door. It was moments like this when I wished I could afford to live in a building with twenty-four-hour security. But student loans prevented that luxury, for now.
I peeked through the peep-hole and my heart immediately started racing when I saw who was standing on the other side. Taz. I’d avoided calling him because the man was so damn hard to resist, and here he was standing at my door, with flowers, no less.
I could pretend I wasn’t home, but I wasn’t a coward. And since he’d become friendly with my sister and brother-in-law, I knew I’d have to face him eventually. Besides, I was always encouraging my clients to face their problems head on, so I had to be willing to take my own advice.
I took a deep breath and opened the door, but the exhale came out on a whoosh when I saw the look in his eye. It could have melted chocolate. And me.
“Hey,” he said, smirking as he handed me a large bouquet of multi-colored roses, tied with a bright pink bow.
“These are for you. I hope you like them. I can honestly say it’s the first time I’ve ever bought flowers for a woman so…
” He shrugged, looking gruff and adorably uncertain at the same time.
“I love them. Thank you.” I sniffed the blooms, closing my eyes. “Would you like to come in?” I asked, opening the door wider and taking a step back.
His eyes travelled leisurely over my body. “If you’re sure you want me to?”
I was wearing tiny black cotton shorts and a matching cropped tank top he seemed to like.
“Quit looking at me like that,” I whispered, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I sure as hell hope you don’t open the door to all visitors dressed like that.” He stepped inside, closing the door with a little more force than necessary.
“I would have run to get a robe, but you’ve already seen me in a lot less, so it seemed pointless.”
“Girl, you don’t make it easy,” he said, curling his hands into fists at his side.
“I don’t make what easy?”
His eyes finally found mine before he said, “Being a gentleman.”
My breath stuttered before I huffed, trying not to laugh. “I swear, you have no filter.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“I’m not.” Why play games? I loved how bold he was, and might as well admit it. It was one of the many things that set Taz apart from every other guy I’d ever dated. “Come into the kitchen. I need to put these in water. Do you want a beer?”
“Sure, thanks.”
My galley kitchen had never seemed smaller than it did with him in it. “Um, could you grab that for me?” I asked, pointing to a glass vase on a top shelf.
He crowded in behind me, his chest against my back and his hand on my hip as he easily plucked the vase from a top shelf and handed it to me.
“Thanks.”
He braced his hands on either side of me at the counter while I filled the vase with water at the sink. I could feel the moisture pooling between my legs as I tried to resist the temptation to turn into his arms.
“Why didn’t you call me back?” he whispered, skimming his lips down my neck.
I shivered, letting the vase overflow with water in the sink before he reached around me to turn the tap off.
I swallowed, trying to remember how to speak. I didn’t know what the hell it was about this man, but he seeped inside of me. Every time I got close to him, I couldn’t speak or breathe. And I just wanted to get horizontal.
My nipples were pebbling against the tight cotton shirt and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so aroused. Yes, I could. Just over two weeks ago, when I brought him home.
“Are you gonna answer my question, gorgeous?” He was sliding his calloused palm across my bare stomach, making me whimper as I leaned into him.
No! I was stronger than this. I couldn’t turn into a mushy mess every time he touched me. I’d gotten pissed off at him for a reason. I hadn’t called him back for a reason. I had to remember that.
“Um, help yourself to that beer,” I said, sidestepping him. “While I put these in water.”
“Sure.”
I pointed to a drawer next to the fridge. “Bottle opener is in there.”
“Thanks. You want one?” he asked, holding up the bottle.
“There’s an open bottle of white wine on the side of the door. I’ll have a glass of that.”
“Okay.” He set both bottles on the counter and opened two cupboards before finding the wine glasses.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him pour, trying not to focus on his hands. The way they’d made me feel. The music they’d made with his guitar. The markings they bore of his past.
Forcing myself to focus on the task at hand, I set the roses in the vase and carried them into the small living room. After shifting some magazines, I set them in the middle of the coffee table.
I turned around and let out a little yelp when I realized he was standing behind me, glasses in hand. “Sorry,” I said, taking the wine glass from him. “I guess I’m a little jumpy tonight.”
“Must be the unexpected company.” He watched me sit down on one end of the small sectional, and use the pillow as a shield to cover my body. “Grace, if you don’t want me here, just say the word and I’ll go.”
“No!” I pinched my lips together, annoyed with myself for not playing it cool. “Sit down.”
He nodded before sitting down a foot away from me. “Are you gonna tell me why you didn’t call me back?”
I considered what I would tell a client faced with a tough situation. Get it out there. Talk about it. Write it down. Process your feelings. Advice I now had to act on. “There were a lot of reasons, I guess.”
He brought the bottle to his lips and tipped it back before he said, “Okay, let’s hear them.”
I was surprised Taz was so willing to talk about my feelings. He didn’t strike me as someone who would be big on the art of communication. But in my line of work, I’d learned I shouldn’t make assumptions about people.
“You hurt my feelings when you assumed I slept around.” He’d already apologized and I knew it was silly to hold on to the resentment, but his opinion of me mattered more than I was willing to admit.
He reached for my hand. “I’m really sorry. I’m an idiot for saying that, and I swear to you, I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
His apology was heartfelt. I could see it in his eyes, and I coached people to let things go, when they had closure. “I accept your apology. I just want you to know, asking you out, and to come home with me, was really out of character. I just felt something when I met you and I had to act on it.”
He smiled, kissing my hand. “I’m glad you did. Best night of my life. Bar none.”
I returned his smile. “It was pretty epic.”
“Yeah, it was. So, was that the only reason you didn’t call me back? You were still pissed about that stupid comment I made?”
“No, it was more than that.” I didn’t know how to tell him the truth without sounding judgmental or insecure. “You made it pretty clear that you’re not into relationships. One-night stands are more your thing. But they’re not really mine. Like I said, I’ve never done that before.”
“One-night stands have been my thing because…” He sighed. “I really didn’t want to get into all this tonight, but you deserve to know the whole truth.”
I inched a little closer, trying to encourage him to open up to me. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”
He smiled. “I feel like you should be sending me a bill for this.”
I didn’t know why, but I wanted to get to know this man better. To learn what made him who he was. “This one’s on the house.”
Sighing, he set his beer down on the coffee table.
“Like I told you, I was only nineteen when my daughter was born. I went away for twelve years, and since I’ve been out, I’ve been trying to get my life together and make up for all the mistakes I’ve made.
That didn’t leave a lot of time for relationships. ”
“Fair enough.”
“Besides, the kind of woman who might be able to overlook my past wasn’t really the type I wanted to get mixed up with.” He raised his hand. “I know that sounds bad. Who the hell am I to judge, right?”
“What kind of woman did you think would be willing to overlook your past, and give you a chance?”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. Someone like me, maybe. Who’d been mixed up with the law or struggled with addictions or… just didn’t feel great about themselves because of shit they’d done in the past.”
There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions I wanted to ask. But I had to remind myself I wasn’t his therapist and this wasn’t a session. I was just a woman interested in getting to know him better.
“I know about your past, and I’m not running scared. But I am curious.”
“About why I went away?”
I nodded. “If you don’t mind talking about it.”
“No, I don’t mind.” He released my hand and rubbed his palm against the seat cushion. “It’s a typical story. Running with the wrong crowd. Drugs. Theft. Getting kicked out of my house. Being homeless. Finding a street family who took me in.”
“A gang, you mean?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, looking pensive. “I was a messed-up kid. Turns out, getting put away was the best thing that could have happened to me. I figured shit out in prison that I never could have if I’d stayed on the streets, with those people.”
“What did you figure out?”
“Who I was, what I wanted.”
I inched closer still, curling my hand around his leg. I knew how difficult it was for him to open up and I wanted to support him. “And? Who were you? What did you want?”
“I was a dumbass kid who didn’t know who he was. That’s why I started taking drugs and hanging with gangbangers. It gave me an identity, as messed up as that sounds.”
“It doesn’t sound messed up at all. I’ve heard similar stories from a lot of young people.”