Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Grace
It was difficult for me to listen to Taz berate himself, especially where his daughter was concerned. I could tell he was still struggling with a lot of guilt and self-loathing, but I had to keep reminding myself, I wasn’t his therapist. I was his date, nothing more, nothing less.
I tried to focus on the house, taking in all the details that made it more than a cookie cutter house.
It made it… his. And I loved it. The upgraded baseboards and crown molding, painted creamy white.
The natural stone and hardwood floors, wood blinds, and cozy paint colors made it feel fresh and new, but decidedly masculine, which had probably been his intent.
“I love it,” I said, poking my head into two of the three unfinished bedrooms, before catching a glimpse of the large master, which had obviously been expanded to include a sitting area with fireplace, walk-in closet and ensuite bath.
“Thanks. I thought it would take me a year to finish, a bit at a time, but thanks to the advance from the record deal, I can have the crew here while I’m in the studio and on the road, to finish it for me.”
“You’re going on the road?” I asked, feigning interest in the main bathroom, which had sealed natural stone tiles, a navy vanity, and frameless shower. “When?”
“One of Mav’s opening acts needs minor surgery, so he needs to take a couple of weeks off. Luc asked me to fill in for him, so I guess I’ll be heading out whenever I get the call.”
“Oh.” I led the way down the narrow hallway, back to the main living areas, trying not to react to the news I wouldn’t be seeing him for a couple of weeks.
I shouldn’t care. This was our first official date.
It’s not like he was my boyfriend. But maybe that was part of the problem, knowing he’d be out on the road, with so much temptation, and no commitments back home.
“Hey.” He reached for my hand, turning me to face him. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, faking a smile. “Nothing. We should get started on dinner.”
“Dinner can wait. This can’t.” He curled his large, calloused hand around my cheek and kissed me gently before looking into my eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
I smiled. “What am I thinking?”
“That one-nighters are my thing, so of course I’m going to be screwing around with groupies on the road. I’m not. I meant what I said last night. I wouldn’t have asked you to come here tonight if I wasn’t serious about pursuing this.”
I wanted to believe him, but trust didn’t come easily to me. Probably because I’d been abandoned by my dad, the one man I should have been able to count on. I thought I’d worked through my daddy issues in therapy, but I had a feeling they’d be resurfacing a lot with a guy like Taz.
“I know I can’t convince you with words, Grace. But time will prove to you that I’m for real.”
He was right. Words were empty, especially when it was too soon to tell if the person in question had the character to back them up. “Let’s just focus on getting to know each other, having fun, and seeing where this takes us.”
Before I could walk away, his hands settled on my hips. “Wait, I—” He drew a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “I really suck at this, probably because I’m clueless when it comes to relationships, but, uh…”
He was adorable when he was uncertain. A big, tough guy like Taz exuded strength and confidence in so many ways, but when it came to the fine art of communication he was lost sometimes.
“What?” resting my hand against his chest. “Just say it.”
“I know I have no interest in screwing around when I’m on the road, but will you be? I mean, seeing anyone else?”
It seemed too soon to be talking about an exclusive relationship, but I’d never been the type to date more than one man at a time anyway. “No.”
He smiled. “Good to know.” He curled his hand around the back of my neck. “I hate games. And game-players. You’ll always know where you stand with me.”
“Same goes for me, Taz.” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s your real name?”
He chuckled, lowering his head. “Tane Azevedo. My folks are from Portugal. Immigrated here before I was born.”
“Ah, so Taz is just a combination of your two names. I like it. Think you’ll use your real name for music or stick with Taz?”
“Tane doesn’t even feel like my real name anymore, to be honest. People, even my sister, have been calling me Taz for years. Besides, some artists just use one name, right?”
I grinned. “Yeah, like Adele. My favorite.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute, you’re not a country music fan?” He took a step back, breaking all contact. “Girl, you could have told me that before. It may be a deal breaker.”
I laughed, rolling my eyes. “I didn’t say I wasn’t a country music fan. Just that Adele happens to be my favorite singer.”
He grunted. “I’ll have to see what I can do about that. I’m pretty sure the guy you’re sleeping with has to be your favorite singer. If there’s not a rule about it, there should be.”
I loved that he also had a playful side, and didn’t take himself too seriously.
“Slept with,” I said, raising my index finger. “One time. I’m not so sure that warrants top billing on my favorite artists list.”
“Oh, it’ll be more than one time, I can promise you that,” he said, curling his arms around my waist while nuzzling my neck. “It’ll be so many times you’ll lose count. And trust me, I’ll be topping every damn one of your lists.”
“Ohhh, confident, aren’t we?”
He pulled back to look me in the eye. “You tell me, do I have reason to be confident?”
“Oh yeah.” He was the best lover I’d ever had. There wasn’t even a close second, not that the list of past lovers was a long one.
“Good to know.” His hand drifted to the swell of my bottom and he sighed heavily. “Alright, let’s get dinner started so we can get to dessert.”
“Did you get the strawberries and chocolate? That’s what I had planned for dessert.”
He spun me around, pointing me towards the kitchen as he whispered in my ear. “I got them, but I have very different plans for dessert. We might still be able to use the chocolate though.”
Over dinner, we’d talked about all the things Taz claimed he didn’t need to know during our first meeting at Jimmy’s: favorite food, favorite movies and our childhoods.
His seemed more stable than mine, with two hard-working parents and a younger sister he clearly adored, though he claimed she was a nosy pain in the ass most of the time.
But by the time we’d retired to the living room for coffee, he was obviously thinking about all the ways he could put that melted chocolate to use.
The way he watched me was intoxicating, like he couldn’t wait to lose himself in me.
No man had ever looked at me that way before.
Every guy I’d been with cared more about his ego and his gratification than making me feel good.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, taking my coffee mug away and placing it on the chunky wood coffee table as he inched closer to me on the cushy navy sofa.
I sunk into the oversized cushions at my back while wrapping my arms around his neck. “Just thinking how different you are… from every other guy I’ve ever been with.”
“Hmm.” He started kissing a path down my neck, making me shiver. “Not sure how I feel about you thinking about all the guys—”
“Three.”
He was still kissing and I was hoping he’d realize I’d worn the dress with a necktie for a reason. Easy access.
“What?”
“Aside from you, I’ve only been with three guys.”
I didn’t know why I felt the need to confess.
Maybe it was because of the comment he’d made our first night, or because I wanted him to know that I took sex seriously, or perhaps it was because he’d opened up to me at dinner and I wanted to reward him by letting him know that he mattered to me and I wasn’t taking this lightly.
“Really?” His smile was slow but the flash of white teeth made it worth the wait. “I like knowing that you only sleep with guys you care about. Assuming you were in relationships with those three other guys?”
I nodded. “Yeah, one was senior year in high school, one was in college, and the other was Brandon.”
“Huh.” He sank back against the cushions, breaking contact. “Then why the hell would you want to sleep with me? It wasn’t just an impulsive decision that you felt you had to go through with because—”
“No!” I wasn’t even sure I could make sense of it myself. “I’ve just never been drawn to a man like that before. The way you looked at me… I knew you could make me feel incredible. I wanted to know how you kissed, how you tasted, how you’d sound when you ca—”
He cut me off with a lingering kiss before finally looking into my eyes. “I’ve never felt like this either, Grace. It’s wild. When I’m not with you, I’m thinking about you. Wanting you. Fantasizing about you. That’s never happened to me before.”
I loved that he thought about me when we weren’t together.
But was it all about the sex for him, or was there more?
When I thought about him, I imagined how we could fit into each other’s worlds.
I imagined date nights. Concerts. Movies.
Vacations. All the things real couples do.
But if he only thought about all the things he’d like to do to me between the sheets, we were in real trouble.
He traced the line between my eyebrows with his fingertip. “You’re frowning. What’s that about?”
I didn’t want to come on too strong, ask for too much of him too soon, but I couldn’t help leading with my heart. It’s who I was. “Um, you said you fantasize about me. Does that mean all your thoughts of me are sexual?”
“What? No!” He leaned back, tipping my chin with his fingertip so we were making eye contact. “How can you even ask me that?”
I took his hands, trying to find the right words. In my line of work, I overthought every word, and it was a hard habit to break in my personal relationships.
“I just need to know that we’re on the same page.
I know we agreed to spend more time together, and that we wouldn’t be sleeping with other people, but, um, you said you don’t do real relationships.
” Before he could interject, I raised my hand.
“And I totally respect that. Some people need to be self-aware enough to admit that relationships aren’t for them, before they drag innocent people into their mess. ”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m a mess who can’t ‘do’ a relationship?” he asked, making an air quote around the word.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Ugh, for someone who made her living making people feel comfortable enough to open up, while asking the right questions, and directing conversations, I was making a mess of this one.
He was still frowning when he asked, “Then what did you mean?”
I smoothed my damp palm over the flowy skirt of my dress, trying to calm my racing heart.
I didn’t want this to escalate or turn into another fight.
I wanted to try and figure out how to make things work with this sexy, infuriating, insecure, talented man, who clearly had a short fuse and a big heart.
He was a conundrum and I wanted to sort all the pieces and help him put them together.
“Sometimes people say things they don’t mean. Or they mean exactly what they say, but people only hear what they want to.”
He curled his hand on his forehead, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “Girl, will you please stop talking in riddles.”
He was right, I did that sometimes. “You told me you’re not good at relationships. Fair enough. But are you at least willing to try? Or is this not… a relationship to you?” I gestured to him. “What we’re doing. Does it still fall under casual sex or—”
“Jesus, Grace. Do you have to overthink everything? It must be exhausting to be inside your head.”
He had no idea how draining it was, but I assumed most therapists were like me. My best friend was, and my personal therapist had been too. Being analytical, trying to dissect thoughts and feelings, and solve problems, was part of the job description, and I didn’t know how to turn that off.
“I’ve been told being with me is hard,” I admitted. “That I’m a lot. And I know you’ve already got a lot going on in your life, trying to launch a new career and make contact with your daughter. So, starting something up with me would probably be more than you could handle.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, scowling.
“What?”
“Why the hell are you throwing up all these roadblocks? Putting words in my mouth? Trying to shut us down before we’ve even had a chance to see where this could go?”
I wasn’t doing that, was I? “I’m just trying to give you an out, in case—”
“I don’t want an out.” He waited for that to sink in. “And I’m not ready for a girlfriend.”
Ouch. “Okay.”
“I don’t even really know you yet, and you don’t know me. But that’s what this is about, right? Getting to know each other, seeing if this could work?”
“And having sex while we figure things out?” I didn’t know why, but that stuck in my craw.
“What’s wrong with that? You don’t want to have sex with me?”
I hadn’t expected the evening to take this turn, but I blamed myself. I’d gone places I had no intention of going, knowing that it was too soon to start pressing him with questions he couldn’t answer. And now I just needed time alone. To process.
“It’s not that.” I covered my hand with his before leaning in to kiss him good-night. “I’ve had a wonderful night, thank you.”
“Grace, come on. You’re not leaving, are you?”
I nodded. “I need to, but please don’t think it’s anything you said or did. I just need a little time alone to figure things out, that’s all.”
He reached for my hand, his eyes pleading. “Don’t leave like this.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, curling my hand around his face. “I don’t know why I started pushing you like that tonight. It’s not like me. I’m not the type who likes to rush into things, but with you I can’t seem to help myself.”
He stood, wrapping his hands around my head as he pressed his lips to my forehead. “And maybe that’s not a bad thing. Please, don’t let it be a bad thing.”
“I’m not saying it is. Just that I need to figure out what it is, why I feel this way when I’m around you.”
“And when I’m with you,” he said, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. “My heart races. I feel good. Excited. Turned on.” He lowered my hand to his flat stomach. “And my gut clenches when I think I’ve said or done something wrong and you’re going to walk out on me again.”
I loved how vulnerable he was willing to be with me. It was a quality I’d always wanted, but never found in another man. “I’m not walking out on you,” I whispered. “Just saying goodnight, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He brought my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against my palm. “Promise?”
How did he put the squeeze on my heart with innocent questions like that? “I promise.”