CHAPTER 5
GREYLIN
Over the last few days, I’ve talked myself out of this date and then back into it over and over again. Mayer has reminded me more than once that we already know what Bart Simmons is up to, since Aiden didn’t wait until I held up my end of the bargain to spill the details.
When I burst into our office the day after Aiden showed up on my doorstep, everyone was getting a cup of coffee. It’s our preferred way to start the day and if we can get a cup together, it’s even better.
It all came out in one big torrent of words and hand gestures.
Not a detail was left out, which meant that I also spilled how adorable I found Aiden when he brought me his deal.
I also might have mentioned how I had a crush on him back in high school and thought something was going to happen when we moved back and before the mayor lost the plot.
I thought Mayer’s head was going to explode.
Meadow’s mouth was hanging open, but then she snapped it closed, her words indignant, “What you’re saying is that he thinks the health inspector is going to find something? Like I don’t keep my kitchen immaculate?”
I held my hands up, trying to placate her while keeping an eye on Mayer. She had a look on her face like she was a second away from taking off one of her heels and using it as a weapon over in City Hall.
Her eye was twitching.
“You’re going to pass all of the inspections with flying colors, Meadow.
” Mayer sucked in a big breath and held it for a moment before letting it go and shaking out her hands.
“He is going to do whatever he’s going to do.
We can’t control him. What we can control is this business and how we perform daily. ” She looked at each of us and nodded.
“Mayer,” Gemma started, her eyes wide, “we can’t let this stand and keep going. It’s ridiculous. I don’t even want to think about the resources he’s using.”
“The problem,” Mayer gritted out through her teeth, but it was clear her anger wasn’t directed at us, “is that there’s nothing to complain about.
His vendetta hasn’t caused a sink hole in the middle of town, nor has it turned the hot springs into,” she threw her hands up, “some barren hellscape or something. He uses resources, fine, but we’re the only ones dealing with it. ”
I flopped down on the couch and looked at her, really looked at her. She tried to cover it, but she looked tired.
“I’m documenting everything, but proof is what is hard to come by. I’m not sure what to do.”
“Beyond run for mayor,” Meadow threw out there like a grenade we hadn’t all been mentally playing hot potato with.
“The next election two years away. The man is a menace,” she hissed and sat down at her desk as if she needed it to find her threat of power and feed it.
“But things like this start now,” Gemma pointed out, trying not to sound too eager.
“I’ll think about it, but don’t hold your breath.
I have enough to do around here and I don’t-,” she started before she closed her eyes and shook her head.
She looked at us again before admitting, “Knowing who Simmons really is, I don’t think that’s an election I want to participate in. Even with the potential upside.”
My voice was small as I asked, “Which Simmons?”
Mayer looked at me and her eyes softened. “Yours seems just fine to me.”
“I always thought his whole pulling you over thing might be his way of pulling your hair on the playground,” Meadow’s voice took on a dreamy quality to it. Our romantic, always.
She was staring into space playing with the bottom of her braid, but when the silence stretched for a beat too long, she looked around. And found us all watching her very closely. After rearing back and looking around, as if something was going to pop up out of nowhere, her shoulders slumped.
“Right,” she held out the word, “that’s bad. We don’t reward bad behavior and it’s not romantic or sweet.” She grimaced, but it was fake as hell, “Might be time to change up my book boyfriend type again.”
After laughing, I felt better about the whole thing. Well, except for not knowing what to do about actually showing up to our date.
But here I am, knocking furiously but with zero punch while glancing around like I’m a fucking racoon finding a honey hole and a loose trash can lid. When the door opens, I tumble inside because I’m basically flush against it like I’m pretending to be the door.
I would make the worst fucking mime.
Aiden’s there; he grips my shoulders and holds me steady. He gently guides me inside enough to close the door. His touch is gentle as he takes my coat off and hangs it up. When he steps in front of me, he’s grinning and his green eyes, eyes I don’t usually let myself think about, are twinkling.
I’m in trouble.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” I mirror him.
As we break out into laughter, some of the tension breaks. Well, the awkward tension. Not the sexual tension; that’s always there.
Right. Dinner.
We’re just having dinner.
“I’m glad you came.” He narrows his eyes at me, “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I thought about not showing up,” I admit and tease him, “you did already tell me everything.”
“I figured we were working on the honor system,” his voice is low as he takes a step closer.
He’s not touching me, but he’s close enough to allow me to feel his presence and his warmth. It’s like I can’t break our locked gazes. Now that I’m closer, I can see the flecks of gold scattered in his eyes.
“What are we having?” I try to keep my voice light, “That was the other reason why I ended up showing up.” He arches an eyebrow and I explain, “I was curious about what you can cook.”
When he chuckles, while his lips curl into a grin that’s part challenge and part rake, my knees go a little weak.
“I decided to cook something easy that I wouldn’t need to fuss over.
It’s ready whenever we are.” I blink up at him a few times, wondering whether he thinks I’m going to solve the riddle or not. “Enchiladas,” he explains.
My chin drops to my chest, and I give him a dubious look, but then I notice something and inhale deeply. “Something does smell really good,” I concede.
I swear the man floats as he leads me deeper into his home. It’s larger than mine and I wonder if that’s how he wanted it. If someone can’t see how Bart Simmons cares about appearances, they don’t want to pay attention. That’s just being willfully obtuse.
Just look at his misuse of the office he holds.
When Aiden pulls out a stool at his island, I push all thoughts about mayor jackass away. He doesn’t get to come on this date with us. I barely stop myself from shivering at the thought of him popping up. That would be horrible.
It’s why I parked down the block. This is a little more clandestine than I’m used to, but I’m not hating it so far.
I prop my chin in my hand while watching him pull out a few bowls with topping options and he sets them on the island for me. His movements are easy and confident. It’s clear he’s used to cooking in this kitchen.
“What else can you cook?” He glances at me and I straighten slightly, unsure if I should be too casual.
It’s not like this is a real date-date, right?
It’s a bargain. “Is this how you cook most nights, I mean? And where’d you learn?
I can’t imagine Mayor Simmons being the type of man to know his way around the kitchen. ”
The words slip out and I slap my hands over my mouth and look at Aiden with wide eyes the moment I realize it. “Sorry,” the word is muffled by my hands and barely recognizable.
He moves around the island, and I turn on my stool as I track his movements. When he’s standing right in front of me, he rests his forearms on the counter behind me, caging me in.
He smells good, cedar and sage, reminding me of days gone by that weren’t really like I remembered them to begin with. My back is so stiff and I’m holding myself so still that my muscles are aching.
“I think we need to establish a very important rule,” his voice has dropped an octave and it shoots through me.
My pussy is begging me to wrap my body around him and make him talk, about anything, just so I can feel the rumble. My pussy is a hussy and needs to get it together. Sure, it’s been a while, but we can keep it classy.
For the most part.
Because I can’t deny that I took an everything shower and am freshly shaved and trimmed. It’s always nice to know I could, even if I won’t.
Considering it’s winter, taking the extra time to get ready says something.
Yeah, that I want to jump into bed with Aiden.
“Okay,” I squeak out the word, and any pretense that I was handling his proximity well flies out the window.
From the look on his face, there was never any pretense to begin with. Well, shit.
“We won’t talk about either of them. Not a mention like that. Not here. This is our time, Greylin, and I don’t want to waste any of it. I want to get to know you and what he’s doing has nothing to do with the amazing woman you are.”
I swallow hard and blink back the tears threatening to well in my eyes. “I can agree to that.” I lick my lips, nervous and unsure where to put my hands. He’s so close. I could touch him. I want to touch him.
“Good,” he rumbles the word and I try not to shudder; really, I do. I fail.
Aiden cups my cheek with his hand, the touch brief and light. Then he’s gone and striding back around to the other side of the island. It’s only after a few deep breaths that I can look at him again.
He pulls the enchiladas out of the oven, and my mouth waters a little bit. When he clears his throat, he shoots me a look that’s a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty that has me infinitely curious.
I’m starting to realize this man is a mystery to me. Anything I told myself I knew about him isn’t proving to be true so far. We all know about assumptions.
“Dad’s chefs taught me to cook,” Aiden admits without looking at me.
I watch his face and the look that crosses it, a mixture of sadness and abandonment, hits me in the middle of my chest and I grab the counter to brace myself.
“Dad, of course, worked a lot and York was doing his own thing. He was already chasing Dad’s dreams for him.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs out a breath. “I guess in this case, I couldn’t not mention him since I was answering your question.”
“I’ll give you a pass for this one,” I chuckle and his shoulders deflate.
“I like to cook a lot of things, but with my schedule and only cooking for myself I don’t get to do it like this very often,” he looks at me and winks, and I feel my cheeks heat.
As he serves us and then sits next to me at the island, it feels intimate in a way that has me relaxing and opening up to him. We end up talking about all sorts of things. In between bites of the enchiladas, which are delicious, of course.
We start off small with music, movies, and books, though he’s not much of a reader. The look he shoots me when he admits that makes me wonder if someone has made him feel less than because it’s not something he enjoys. I wouldn’t be surprised having met his family.
I might be tempted to spit at them next time I see them. No, I won’t really do it, but I could be tempted.
When I tell him about going away to school and how hard it was at times, he listens intently. It feels genuine too. He even asks questions, not shutting me down or interjecting something about himself that would seem more impressive.
Thinking back, it’s for the best that my ex cheated on me, and I found out when I did.
His eyes don’t even glaze over when I tell him about analyzing numbers and sales after tentatively asking me about GMH and my role as if he’s skating on thin ice. But the reality is that GMH is a big part of my life. I’m not ashamed of it nor am I going to pretend like I am.
Looking down at our empty plates, my heart sinks. I push away the reality of the situation for as long as possible and jump at the ice cream sundaes when Aiden offers them.
“I’m impressed by your sprinkle collection,” I tease him and he rubs the back of his neck.
“I wanted you to have options and I think sprinkles are non-negotiable on a sundae,” he says it completely seriously, like what he’s saying is totally normal.
I think for him, it might be.
An ache starts in my chest and grows until I can’t ignore it. Knowing why it’s there doesn’t do a damn bit of good.
Nothing can ever come of this.
It doesn’t matter how much fun we’re having. It doesn’t matter how much I wish it was different because it’s not.
“I think,” I clear my throat, fighting against the instinct to run out of his house like my ass is on fire, “I need to get going.”
Aiden’s face sinks and I want to reach for him, but I fist my hands on my lap and force myself to look into his eyes.
“Dinner was delicious,” I tell him honestly, my voice soft; maybe to soften the blow. “I had a lot of fun.”
When I stand up, he does the same, leaving the plates behind as I move back towards the front door. I look back up at him, and I can practically see the words left unspoken, the ones he wishes he could say just as much as I do.
But we both know who we are and why this can’t happen.
I don’t have to like it, though.
We both suck in a breath when I grip his shoulders. I rise up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. My words ghost over his stubbled jaw, “Good night, Aiden.”
I slip out the door before he can stop me. Hell, I slip out before I can even admit how much I want him to stop me.
Even though I said good night, it felt a lot like goodbye and I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same.