Chapter 14 Drew
DREW
I’m avoiding Gabe. And Adam. So I’m out in the barn workshop with Greyson this morning, painting the details on props for Santa’s Workshop. I haven’t said more than hello to him, but with the sawing and hammering it doesn’t seem so bad.
Not that awkward.
Greyson convinced me not to make individual elf workbenches as props and instead paint a background with them to go behind the workbench we’ll stack toys on for Santa to give out to the kids.
It’s a smart move.
He’s working on the single workbench now, and I like how he’s rolled up his sleeves to show off the way his biceps flex as he hammers. Greyson catches me watching and flashes a smile. I grin back.
I’ve also got the base for the scene outside of Santa’s workshop via his workshop window with the gingerbread houses that we’re going to surround with twinkling lights.
Now that it’s dry, it’s time for me to add the details, so I meander to go looking for the palette I need to mix some gray tones, and Greyson follows me.
“You didn’t come over last night.” The warmth of his body behind me is alluring. I want to lean into him so desperately.
But I sigh softly.
Because, no, I didn’t.
I could only be rejected so many times.
And the words Gabe said before I stormed out…they played on repeat the whole night, kept me awake through a fitful sleep.
They’ve been nipping at the back of my brain all day.
Greyson closes in, turning me to face him.
“Hey. What happened?” He touches my cheek, and I don’t see any judgement in his gaze.
Everything inside of me leans toward him and his sweetness. How easy it is to just be myself around him.
“Do you think I make rash decisions?”
His gaze softens and warms. “No. You’re decisive and quick. You might take some risks, but you wouldn’t be so good at everything you do if you didn’t.”
Greyson’s touch lingers, gently caressing my cheek. And something blooms in my chest.
I reach for him, and he comes to me easily for a kiss. His mouth molds against mine, chaste at first, but as my touch crawls up his shoulders to pull him closer, he gives up the pretense and kisses me like he means it with the full power of his intention.
I open to him, letting him in.
He doesn’t charge in, but he conquers me just the same. There’s something to be said about skill, the slow progression of his invasion until I’m putty in his hands.
He doesn’t let me down, leaning me back against the barn wall, sinking a hand into my hair to tilt me where he wants me.
God, I can feel his arousal against my belly, and I want my hands on him again.
But Greyson retreats, breathing as heavily as I am.
Part of me is glad that he’s got some sense to not let us get so carried away here.
We are at work, after all.
The other part of me wishes I could drag him back to me, undress him, and have him wipe away all my insecurities with the pleasure I know he can command.
His smile prompts mine, and we linger in each other’s space. I soak in every little touch, like how he plays with my hair, my ear, the collar of my shirt. It takes a moment for us to sober up.
“Are you coming over tonight?”
My heart plummets. “No.”
“What’d he do?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to tell him. I take his hand in mine to stop his casual touches. “I’m looking for a small paint palette.”
His mouth is a stern line, and I hate how my eyes burn. His other hand comes up to tip me into him and give me a kiss on my forehead. “He’s an idiot. Especially when it comes to you. Come on.”
He leads me to the back shelves where he helps me find what I’m looking for.
After a pat on the ass, we both return to our own projects.
I start filling in details for the wintry landscape.
It’s a means of expressing my creativity in a way I never thought I would enjoy…or be good at, but I found the hobby when I lived in the city and spent most of my nights alone.
Most of my days alone. Starting over was hard.
I stop that train of thought before I can spiral into when I finally stopped feeling so alone.
When I finally found my footing. When everything blew up in my face.
Shaking it off, I refocus on the details.
Greyson and I work in companionable silence until lunch.
We’re propped across from each other—me on the lone folding chair back here and him on a stack of two-by-fours. It doesn’t seem to bother him one bit.
We both crack open our glassware—mine made by my mother and his…leftovers. It makes me giggle.
“What are you laughing at?” His eyes glow with equal amusement.
“Is that from Sally’s?” My brow raises with knowing.
“She makes the best meatloaf in town.”
“She certainly does.” I’m smiling around my first bite of food as he chuckles.
A few forkfuls in, and his glance makes me suspicious. “What’s your plan when this is all over? After the holidays?”
I stare down at my container of bourbon chicken and chew on the inside of my cheek. I don’t have a real answer for him. Not that Greyson looks like he’s judging me. He never does.
“I don’t know yet.” Admitting that doesn’t ease the pressure on my chest like I thought it might.
He nods. “I suppose you still have time to figure it out.”
I shrug. It feels like my life lately has been moving so fast that I’ve lost complete control of it. It’s so different from the last six years of monotony.
“You know, it doesn’t get any easier as you get older. Or at least, not always.”
My brow raises at that, and he meets my gaze meaningfully. His life’s been through its own upheaval recently.
“What happened with Kim?”
Greyson grimaces. It’s his turn to look away, but his attention returns to me quickly. “Too many small things added up.”
“Little things like what?” I’m hoping it might help me figure out how I’d missed all the signs in my last relationship.
His shoulders droop a little. “After the baby was born, she just…didn’t seem to want me anymore.”
It looks like it still makes him sad but not that he’s hung up on it.
“She’s an idiot then.”
I like the way that makes him look at me.
Because, yes, I certainly want him. I think I’ve made that more than obvious.
Heat simmers between us as a result has me crossing my legs to keep myself in place.
Eating lunch becomes playful; he watches my mouth, and I trace the line of his body with my gaze—those wide shoulders, how his shirt clings to his biceps muscled from years of hard work, the small V at his throat that shows a peek of his chest hair…
But mostly, I recognize the desire in his eyes. If we weren’t at work, I’d have my hands all over him again.
The door to the barn swings open with a gust of cold air, and Adam stands in the space it occupied a moment ago. His usual mirth is hidden by his authoritative stance.
Greyson’s eyes widen, looking at me, then Adam, and back to me with a smirk.
He stabs another bite of meatloaf, chewing slowly, giddy from the obvious tension.
We’re about to give him a show apparently.