Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
I rolled over in my soft pink comforter and reached blindly for my phone. I had missed calls from Jane and Mom and several texts. Jane had called at 10 p.m., technically last night—but at the time I was still somehow with Grant.
I clicked on Jane’s messages from today.
Jane: Em, if you’re dead right now, I’m going to be so mad.
Jane: That’s it, I’m coming over and if you are not home, I’m calling the police.
Whoa. I sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
Emma: Sorry I didn’t call back last night, and I was sleeping this morning. You know it’s like 5:30 a.m., right?
Three dots blinked as Jane wrote her reply.
Jane: Oh my gosh, I was going to call the police. You can’t do that to me.
I crisscrossed my legs and smiled as I thought through the night before. It felt a bit like a dream. Everything seemed brighter.
Emma: Yeah, sorry. When you called last night, we were still hanging out, and by the time I got home I fell right into bed.
Jane: oh…
Jane: OH!!! !
Jane: So it was good then, yes?!
I giggled. After Leo’s we spent well over an hour walking around downtown. We talked about everything and nothing at the same time.
Emma: Yeah, it was good.
Jane: I NEED MORE DETAILS
I plopped back on my pillows and looked at the ceiling, not able to contain my smile.
Emma: Well he asked if I had plans tomorrow afternoon? I think we are going to check out a few vintage shops to look for the film reels he needs.
Jane: AHHHHHHHHHH!
Jane: Okay, was he nice? I mean other than looking, because we know that. She sent a flame emoji.
I bit my bottom lip and thought of him holding doors open for me, how he insisted he walk on the traffic side of sidewalks, and that he escorted me to my car.
Emma: It was perfect. He was a perfect gentleman.
Jane sent a string of emojis, from party streamers to dancing to kisses.
I needed to get ready for work, and all this would be better in person. I got out of bed and went to start the shower.
Emma: I need to shower but maybe you can come by the shop on your lunch break?
Jane: I will be there!! So happy for you, Em!
I was happy too. It was fun playing Cupid, but I never got this rush of nerves and butterflies. What if it all ends as fast as it started?
Emma: But what happens if it’s all in my head? What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he likes me at the start but he changes his mind?
I tried to remind myself to let it play out. I rubbed my hand through my hair and bounced my leg. I was quickly spiraling, and I knew it. And Jane knew it .
Jane: Em, deep breaths. All those things are the future’s job to figure out. You don’t get to know the ending from the start. No one does. Right now your job is to shower, lean in to hope, and be excited!!!! Cya at lunch!
I was thankful for the millionth time that Jane was in my life. I took a deep breath and hopped in the shower.
The day dragged on at work and flew by too quickly at the same time. At lunch Jane and I picked apart every possible interaction for double meaning. I couldn’t wait to see Grant tomorrow, but I was also terrified.
I wiped down the shelves of assorted china. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I saw a text from Grant. The butterflies in my stomach and the quickened beat of my heart confirmed it—I was definitely feeling something for him.
Grant: Excited to see you tomorrow. Do you want me to pick you up or meet you at Boise Pawn and Thrift?
Emma: Do you have a preference?
Grant: I’m happy with whatever makes you feel most comfortable.
I glanced to the side and chewed on my bottom lip. Riding together meant more time spent together. And after talking to Jane and Mom, I promised them both I would try to give it time to see if it could work.
Emma: I’m fine to ride with you, but parking can be nasty near my apartment.
Grant: I’m sure I’ll manage.
He wasn’t a man of many words. I chuckled.
Emma: Deal.
Grant: Is it okay if we start around noon? I have a few things in the morning first.
Emma: Yep, noon is great!
I sent him my address and got back to dusting.
The store had never been cleaner.
I shook out my hands to calm my nerves. Why was I so nervous to see Grant? I put in my pearl stud earrings and added a coat of my pink lip gloss. I tucked my light blue shirt into my high-waisted jeans and tied a light pink scarf in my hair. Our date was only two days ago, and we’d texted in between, so why did this feel different?
Deep breaths.
I didn’t get to know the ending early.
I repeated the phrases Jane gave me.
A knock sounded from my front door, and I took a calming breath.
“Coming,” I hollered toward the door as I grabbed my cardigan and purse from off the hooks.
I opened the door and felt the cool spring air swirl around me. Grant was giving me serious James Dean vibes with his leather jacket and jeans. So yummy.
“You ready?” His eyes drank me in, and I felt beautiful without him saying a word.
“Yep.” I nodded and locked the door behind me. He held his hand out for me again, palm up, waiting. It was a bold gesture, but respectful, and I loved it.
I set my hand in his and grinned as his hand enveloped mine, soft but firm, and when his thumb started tracing mine I lost all coherent thought and my steps stuttered again.
“Whoops,” I chuckled, “guess I’d better pay attention.”
He winked and led me down the rest of the stairs to his black Chevy truck. “I like that color on your lips.” His eyes were on my mouth, and I tried to swallow.
“Oh, um. Thanks.” My heart was trying to sprint out of my chest.
He opened the truck door for me and waited for me to sit, then he shut the door and went around the front of the vehicle. The car smelled like him, a mix of leather and something earthy. I took a quick peek around. For a single guy, his car was pretty clean. There was a gym bag in the back and a trash bag that looked to be full of Red Bulls. Grant opened his door, drawing my attention back to him.
He smiled and shifted his truck into drive and merged onto State Street. We drove the twenty minutes to the thrift store, relaying stories from elementary school. He pulled into the parking lot.
“This is kind of a long shot to find film canisters, but I figure it’s worth a try.” I shrugged.
“Sounds good.” He stepped out of his truck.
I had called three auction houses and asked them to watch for movie reels, but so far no luck.
Grant made his way around to me.
Should I wait for him to open my door? Was that weird? Should I just open it?
He was coming my way, but the stress of sitting there waiting got the better of me, and I opened the door. Grant took the last three steps between us and held out his hand for me.
“So, is this what you call casual dating?” I lifted our joined hands.
He smirked. “Nope.” He led us to the glass door of the thrift store and opened it. I pinched my lips tight to keep from squealing and forced my breaths to slow. Holy hotcakes!
The treasure hunt began. Guitars, jewelry, records, bikes, and questionable clothing. Each new corner held limitless possibilities.
Grant found a Metallica poster he liked, but no film reels. The day continued in the same scavenger hunt fashion as we went to three other thrift stores.
No film reels older than the eighties.
“Worth the try?” I asked Grant as we made our way back to the truck .
“I don’t regret how I’ve spent my day, if that’s what you’re asking.” He grinned down at me, and I wanted to reach up and run my fingers through his trimmed facial hair along his jawline.
Wow…um, weird. I cleared my throat. “So, did you get your errands done this morning?”
“Some of them.” He held the door open for me, and I slid into his truck. He came around, sat in his seat, and shifted the truck into drive.
“I have a few things I still need to do at The Brick House later.” He held his hand out for me and I took it. “But I got my workout in.” He smiled proudly. “You hungry?”
It was 4 p.m. “I could snack.” I shrugged. “The Brick House is between here and my apartment. We could stop there on the way if you’d like?”
He shook his head no. “In some ways that would be great, but I’m trying to enforce some boundaries with work and my personal life. I think bringing you to work with me is cheating.” He side-eyed me.
“Even if I was the one who offered?” I reached out and touched his arm. “I would love nothing better than to snoop around the place without the fear of being thrown out.”
He steeled his shoulders. “Okay, it should only take me thirty minutes, but once I walk in those doors, it’s like everything falls apart and takes longer than I think it will.” He grimaced. “Maybe I should just go back later tonight.”
“Hmm…” I pinched my lips. “We could set a timer? I’ve heard it works wonders for toddlers.”
“Funny.” He rolled his eyes.
“Really, I would like to see it again, so I don’t mind.”
“Okay, just don’t let me talk to anyone about the water lines…” His shoulders stiffened. “And we are setting a timer.”
“Deal.” I clapped.
After grabbing some sodas and fries, we got to The Brick House around 5 p.m .
It was such a beautiful building. “Why did you buy this building specifically?” I asked as he reached for my hand and led me through the parking lot.
“Timing and history.” We went up the steps. “They were going to tear it down. I wanted to save it. That, and I got a really good deal on it. But,” he said as he held the door for me, “turns out it was more broken than I thought.”
As we stepped inside the glass doors, he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and started a thirty-minute timer, tipping his phone to show me. “Okay, only thirty minutes. I’m not joking, this place is a time-sucker.”
I followed him to his office and sat in a soft chair as he paid a bill, grabbed some paperwork, and sent a few emails. The timer went off, but then I convinced him to give me a tour. A team of decorators was walking around the different ballrooms, setting up for the next Kismet event. I watched as a group of people in blue polos carried boxes of disco balls and fog machines.
“So how did you end up doing the Kismet events?” I squeezed Grant’s hand in mine. Somehow, even though it was so new, his hand was starting to feel familiar.
“It was that or bankruptcy.” He shrugged. “We had a bunch of flooding behind some walls after opening, water damage everywhere, last-minute cancellations of events, refunds, and insurance considered it pre-existing damages.” We walked down the main stairs to the foyer. “Cash flow was nonexistent, and then word spread that the venue was having problems and we stopped getting calls for events.”
“Ouch.”
He rubbed his hand through his hair and looked down at me. “I asked Darian Cole as a last-ditch effort to save the place.” His jaw tightened. “He said yes as a favor to my dad, after I gave it to him at barely above cost.” He shook his head. “I hate working with him—he reminds me so much of Dad. But he’s all I got right now. And if this place fails… ”
I reached up and ran my hand down his clenched arm. “What does it mean if it fails?” It felt far more than just financial.
His stance was rigid and his eyes were hard. “This is my last chance to prove my dad wrong.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder. Thinking of what to say, I took a slow breath. “Grant. Your dad’s dead. I’m pretty sure he has zero opinions on your business venture.” I looked up to his tired eyes and hoped he could let out some of the anger and pain. “And even if he does, it sounds like he was a miserable man. You shouldn’t care what he thinks.”
“True.” The topic sagged his shoulders. “I know logically that I need to let him and my anger go, but it keeps seeping in.”
“Tell me about your mom.”
His shoulders eased. “She is great, honestly. I should go see her more than I do. That’s the other thing I’m trying to do better at.” He grinned, as I followed him to the truck. “Where to, or are you sick of me yet?” Grant bumped against my shoulder.
It was 6 p.m. We had been together for six hours, and I’d hardly felt the time pass. “Are you up for a Grant movie date night?”
His eyes met mine. “Time to meet the competition, eh?”
I chuckled. “If you can handle it. The men from that era set a pretty high bar…” I remembered what Mom said about the difference between real and fiction. “You know, except the whole women couldn’t own property or attend college.” I grimaced.
Grant smirked. “Yeah, they sound like real charmers.” His fingers curled gently around mine as he lifted my hand to his lips. He hesitated, I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. My breath hitched, and he pressed a slow, soft kiss to my skin. Warmth radiated from his lips, up my arm, and into my chest, making it impossible to look away.
Holy Casanova, this man!