15. Josie
FIFTEEN
JOSIE
I blink a few times, wondering if maybe I fell asleep on the couch and I’m dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation for seeing Tyson Bishop standing on my doorstep late at night in a suit and tie.
“You what?” I ask, staring at the box he holds between us.
“I brought cake,” he announces again, his voice no more confident saying it the second time than it was the first.
I take a step closer to him, one of my hands still gripping the door as I stare at him carefully, wondering if I’m dreaming.
Mouse catches my attention for a moment as he lets out an excited meow and ambles over to Tyson’s feet. He weaves his body in between Tyson’s legs, letting out a contented purr in the process.
“You brought…cake?” I repeat slowly, wondering if I’m hearing him correctly.
My eyes meet his as he gives me a sheepish smile.
“The other night after dinner, you mentioned how you missed this cake that your grandfather’s chef always prepared for your weekly dinners, and while I was at the welcome party at Pembroke tonight, everyone was raving about how amazing the triple-chocolate cake is.
I didn’t want you to miss out on that, so I found a box and brought some back for you in case you wanted to try. ”
My stomach muscles tighten at the same moment my lips part.
For a few moments, I don’t say anything.
I’m too busy processing what he said to even think of a response.
It might be silly, but I barely remember mentioning anything about cake to him.
It was something we briefly discussed over dinner the other night.
Not only did he remember, but this man, who is barely more than a stranger to me, went out of his way to bring me the cake.
“Tyson.” His name comes out barely above a whisper. “That was so thoughtful of you.”
Tyson shifts on his feet, still wearing a nervous smile. “It’s not a big deal. I just didn’t want you to miss out on the cake.”
I stare into his blue gaze, fighting the urge to correct him. To me, it does feel like a big deal. I know it shouldn’t be, and maybe I should be worried about the fact that him bringing me a piece of cake is the most romantic thing a man has done for me in years, but it actually means a lot.
“How was the party?” I ask as I take the box from him. My throat feels thick, but I’m not sure why. Maybe because of emotion? Attraction?
He rocks back and forth on his feet, his stare trained on me. “It was good. I looked for you there. Thought you might show up.”
I can’t help but smile. Warmth spreads throughout my entire body at his words. Before he showed up, I was on the verge of tears of frustration, but now that he’s here, I’ve forgotten about how down I was feeling. “Parties aren’t typically my thing. Especially with this deadline.”
He nods. “They aren’t really my thing either.”
My smile grows because I could’ve guessed that. It’s quiet for a moment as I let my eyes trace over his body.
Tyson was already one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on, but in a suit? It’s a sight to behold. My entire body feels tight at the way the black fabric hugs his body perfectly, making it obvious he’s had it tailored to fit every dip and curve of his muscles.
“How’s the writing going?” he asks quietly.
My eyes go wide as my gaze snaps to him. He smiles, making it known that he just caught me checking him out, but he doesn’t bring any attention to it.
I grip the door harder with the hand still holding it.
I hope he can’t see the blood pooling in my cheeks at being caught.
I can’t help but let out a defeated sigh at his mention of work.
“Not good,” I confess, wondering why I want to be honest with him when I lied to every other person who checked in with me today.
“I’m sorry,” he responds in his deep voice that sends shivers down my spine.
I lift a shoulder. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. It isn’t your fault.”
“It isn’t yours either.”
My spine straightens at his words. I cock my head to the side as I let out a nervous laugh, my hand falling to my side as I let go of the door and let it shut behind me.
“But isn’t it? I’m the author. My entire job is to put words to paper in a way that makes people feel something, and right now, I just can’t do that. ”
I pull my gaze from him, feeling ashamed by the words coming out of my mouth.
For the last two days, I’ve barely gotten anything done.
I’ve stared at a computer screen for much too long, hating the words I already wrote, but not having any ideas on how to fix them.
My chin lowers to my chest as I finally let the thought creep in that maybe I won’t be able to fix this book, and maybe I won’t be able to write another book again.
I’m so lost in feeling sorry for myself that I don’t even notice that Tyson’s closed the distance between us.
One moment, I’m staring at my feet, wondering if I should just wave my white flag to my publisher already, and the next, two strong fingers are grabbing me by the chin and tilting my head up.
His piercing blue eyes scan my face. I can’t help but think how crazy it is that his eyes are still so bright under the dimness of the porch light and the darkness of the night.
He keeps his fingers on my chin. His thumb and pointer finger are firm against my skin, his fingertips pressing just enough to keep my gaze locked with his. “You’re trying your best,” he gets out, his voice gravelly but his words gentle.
I swallow as I lean in closer to his touch, unable to form a coherent thought because of our close proximity.
His thumb moves from my jaw as he softly swipes the pad against my cheek. “Repeat it after me,” he quietly demands.
I blink, trying to process what he said. “What?”
“Say it out loud. That you’re doing your best.”
I close my eyes for a moment, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I’m trying my best.”
Only because of the proximity of our bodies can I hear the dissatisfied growl that comes from deep in his chest. “I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t know me well enough to know either way.”
When I open my eyes again, I find his blue gaze trained on me.
Even if he didn’t have a grip on my jaw, I wouldn’t be able to move just because of the intense way he stares at me.
He works his jaw back and forth, his mouth opening and closing as if he has something he wants to say but can’t quite get it out.
It’s quiet as we both stare at one another.
Eventually, he swallows before opening his mouth to speak. “Then let me get to know you.”
“Why?”
“So you’ll believe me when I say you’re doing your best, and that’s all that you can do.” A half smile graces his lips. “And because, selfishly, I’m just dying to know more about you, but you keep not giving me the time of day.”
His words make me laugh and blush at the same time. I don’t know what it is about him, but I’ve never felt such a sudden pull to a stranger. It’s terrible timing, but I can’t help but want to let him in ever so slightly.
“Are you planning on working more tonight?” he asks softly, his thumb still caressing over my cheek. I wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it.
I let out a sigh as my shoulders sag in defeat. “I should, but I don’t know if I can.”
His eyes roam over my face. He tries his best to fight a smile, his lip twitching with the threat of it. Eventually, he loses the fight. Both corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. “Let me distract you, then.”
I shake my head in disbelief at how unexpected the night has turned out to be.
I thought I’d spend the entire night frustrated with myself, staring at my manuscript and glaring at the editor’s notes that I don’t know how to bring to fruition, until I eventually gave up and went to bed.
Instead, I’ve found myself standing entirely too close to Tyson Bishop, wanting to accept his offer of being a distraction.
He must take me shaking my head as a no because his hand immediately drops to his side as he takes a step back. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I know you’re busy. I just wanted to drop off the cake—”
“Tyson,” I say, his name coming out hurriedly because I don’t want to lose the nerve to say what I’m about to say.
His gaze flicks from Mouse at his feet back to me. “Yes?”
“Want to come inside?” The question comes out fast, my mouth moving faster than my brain as I rush to get the words out before I can think better of them.
Tyson’s stare stays pinned on mine as he runs a hand through the long strands of hair at the top of his head. “You sure?”
I bite my lip. I’ve never been so sure and unsure of something at the same time.
I know the right decision would probably be to not invite him inside and try to finish my night strong by getting words on the page.
But I don’t want to do that. I need a reprieve from feeling upset with myself for not producing any work, and Tyson came at just the right time to distract me from that.
“Yes. But only if you want to.”
He cocks his head to the side. “You already know I want to.”
I bite back a smile. The man has a way of turning me into a puddle at his feet with one simple sentence. I angle my head to the door behind me, my heart racing at the prospect of having him inside my house. “Then come in.”
I keep my eyes trained on him as I take a step back. I reach my hand behind my back and feel around until my fingers find the handle, turning it and pushing the door open.
Mouse meows from Tyson’s feet. I’ve been so locked into my conversation with Tyson that I almost forgot all about my cat, but luckily, instead of making a break for it while outside, he seemed content to just stay at Tyson’s feet instead.
Tyson closes the distance between us, his arm reaching over my head as his palm connects with the door. “Let me hold this open for you,” he insists, cocking his head inside my house in a silent demand for me to go in.
I listen to him and step inside, my gaze moving from his to my cat at his feet. “Come inside, Mouse.”
Mouse stares at me, but instead of listening, he flicks his tail through the air and circles between Tyson’s legs.
This makes Tyson laugh. “C’mon, Mouse.” He steps inside my house and holds the door open for my cat.
I can’t help but let out a disgruntled scoff as my cat happily follows Tyson’s directions and goes inside.
Tyson softly shuts the door behind him, his blue eyes finding mine as we stare at each other in my entryway.
“Why does my cat listen to you and not me?”
This makes Tyson smile. “I’ve heard cats have great judgment of character. “
I roll my eyes and look over my shoulder, suddenly self-conscious about how the house looks.
I’m not a messy person—ever. Messes typically stress me out, but especially on a deadline, I find myself cleaning and organizing more than necessary as a way to feel productive while avoiding what I’m actually supposed to be doing.
Luckily, the house doesn’t seem to be too bad, but I still feel nervous because I wasn’t expecting company.
“Can I get you a drink or anything?” I ask, thinking about what I even have. I know I have wine, but I don’t know if that’s what he prefers.
“I’m okay,” Tyson responds, his feet staying planted in the entryway. He watches me carefully, and I’ve never wished more to be able to read someone’s mind than I do right now.
“Okay,” I whisper, glancing around the space before looking back at him.
I feel weird, standing in front of him in a pair of sleep shorts and a shirt while he’s still dressed in a suit, but I don’t voice that out loud.
Instead, I stare at him as I twist my hands in front of me, wondering what exactly my plan was by inviting him inside.