Midnight Heat (Firework Girls #2) (2 page)

The Night of Grayson

It all began right there in the Perched Owl, in the very first moment I saw him.

Which makes me wonder just how pathetic I am.

But it’s true. I remember exactly how it all went down. Isabella leaned back in her chair, draped one long arm over the back and said, “Two hopefuls. Four o’clock.”

We followed her gaze and saw there were indeed a couple of “hopefuls” heading our way. Two guys who, I had to admit, had every reason to be hopeful.

The one was tall and dark and would’ve been a perfect match for Isabella if she didn’t already have a boyfriend—now her fiancé—so loyal he moved to fucking Boston just to be with her.

The other guy was more my type. Like, the heart-stopping type. As in, my heart actually stopped when I looked at him and I literally don’t know if that’s ever happened to me.

He was wearing a dark, button-down shirt that made his chest look perfectly touchable and edible, and oh my god those broad shoulders. Am I the only girl that really notices the shoulders? I remember thinking that I could be perfectly happy hanging on to those babies in a moment of passion. (I was not wrong.)

I’m not usually so bold as to check out a guy’s package (something Sam once told me she does
not
understand), but I didn’t fail to notice his, wrapped up ever so nicely in his dark jeans
thankyouverymuch
. But when I looked back to his face, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his.

A stunning, slate blue. Dark blue, not like my icy blue eyes. They were gorgeous.

He and Mr. Greek God came right to our table. While I could say I didn’t know who these guys came to see, it’d be a lie. Mr. Greek God was zeroing in on Isabella (poor guy), and Blue Eyes was looking right at me.

Even then, I knew that look he was giving me was more than just a look. God, it started so quickly with Grayson. It’s insane.

The noise of the crowd fell away and I damn near forgot my girlfriends were there with me. I took in his dark, brown hair, the subtle hint of curl on top, the neat stubble along his jawline. And those eyes. A little voice way in the back of my head was telling me I was
not interested, not interested, not interested
. But the rest of me was captured.

“Evening ladies.” This from Mr. Greek God. He even had an accent and, we soon found out, a foreign-sounding name I’ve since forgotten. He introduced himself and shook our hands in turn before saying, “And this is Grayson.”

Grayson shook our hands too, but he didn’t go around the table in order the way his friend did. Though I was in the middle, he shook my hand last.

That was the first time I ever touched Grayson Piers. When he took my hand a jolt of electricity raced up my arm and got my heart sprinting.

He held my hand a bit longer than the others, just long enough to understand he wanted me to know he was there.

Did I ever.

When he finally released me, I tucked a lock of my auburn hair behind my ear with slightly trembling fingers.

Mere seconds passed when Isabella gracefully mentioned her devoted boyfriend and Ashley not-so-gracefully mentioned that, sorry boys, we’re heading to the back patio for “a top-secret mission to mark the occasion of Chloe’s Not Wedding Night.”

This statement allowed me to, at last, pull my eyes from Grayson’s so I could stare at Ashley with mortification.

The boys tactfully dismissed themselves, moving on to more fruitful pastures no doubt, and the girls and I were left to our own devices. And that was the end of Grayson.

Or so I thought.

The girls and I did, in fact, retreat to the patio only to decide it was too crowded and we should wait a bit longer. My first thought was, why
not
have a drink with Grayson and Mr. Greek God? Instead we found a table by the patio’s beehive fireplace and talked for another hour or so. I told myself it was all for the best, even though I didn’t really believe it.

Even now I try to tell myself it would’ve been better if I’d never seen him again.

I can’t bring myself to believe that either.

Our “top-secret mission” was smashing champagne glasses (engraved with
Brad and Chloe Forever
and the fateful date) in the fireplace, once the back patio cleared away. It was an experience both thrilling and anti-climactic, if that makes any sense. Then we called it a night and headed back to my apartment.

It had been a full weekend, and Ashley and Isabella had to get up early the next morning. The first leg of Isabella’s flight back to Boston was so early, she insisted we say our goodbyes that night. She and Ashley would let themselves out in the morning, and Ashley would drop her off at the airport on her way back to Hartman.

I agreed to this plan to satisfy them, but was going to get out of bed long enough to say goodbye anyway. Who knew how long it would be before we’d see each other again?

We’d been home from the Perched Owl only ten minutes when I realized I forgot my bag on the patio. I don’t usually carry a bag when I go out like that. I prefer to tuck my keys, my cards, and my phone in a pocket and leave it at that. But because of the sacrificial champagne glasses, I’d needed a bag. At one point in the evening, I’d dropped my phone in there.

I didn’t realize my error until I went to charge my phone for the night. The other two were in the bathrooms changing, so I knocked on one door, told Ashley where I was going, and headed back.

Fifteen minutes later, as I walked up to the entrance of the Perched Owl, there were Grayson and Mr. Greek God, waving their goodbyes to each other. His friend walked off, but Grayson stood still, having noticed me.

I managed to keep walking. My skin began to tingle all over, as if my body knew before I did what was coming.

“Ah, you came back for me,” he said, teasing. He gave me a crooked smile. That was the first time I noticed his dimple. Just one. On his left cheek.

“I left my bag on the patio,” I said, still walking, “and when I find it I’m going to tuck you inside and smuggle you out.”

Don’t ask what possessed me to make such a flirty comment.

“In that case,” he said, opening the door for me, “I’d better help you look.”

Grayson fell into step behind me as we made our way through the main bar and toward the double doors leading to the back patio. I felt his eyes on me the whole way.

There was a cluster of guys around one of the patio tables and I quickened my step, wondering if they’d seen (and perhaps taken) my bag. I went through the doors and glanced at the table nearest the fireplace, where the girls and I had spent the last part of our evening. The black strap of my bag hung from the back of the chair I’d been sitting in and I exhaled in relief.

“I see it,” I said, but still hurried toward it. I was acutely aware of Grayson’s presence as I grabbed my bag and did a quick check of the interior.

“Everything there?” he asked.

It was mainly the empty box that had held the glasses, but there was my phone, right next to it. I nodded and looked up at him. He was giving me a most delicious-looking grin. “Ah, well. I’m happy for you and everything, but how am I going to be able to talk to you now that my Knight-in-Shining Armor strategy didn’t pan out?”

“You already had a rescue strategy?” I asked, smiling back. It was a flirty smile. I’ll admit it.

“A guy’s gotta be quick on his feet if he wants to capture the attention of a beautiful woman. Maybe I can join your spy ring instead.”

“My what?”

“Aren’t you ladies spies? What with your top-secret mission and everything.”

How Grayson managed to pull off mentioning that without embarrassing the hell out of me, I don’t know. He was just so easy-going and... I don’t know, accepting. I didn’t feel the slightest bit awkward. In fact, I felt inclined to play along.

“Well, only the best of the best can be admitted to the Firework Spy Network.”

“Oooh,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “You even have a name for it.”

“And now that you know our top-secret name, you definitely need to pass the spy test or, I’m very sorry to tell you, I’ll have to dispose of you.”

His grin turned devilish then, as if he couldn’t imagine anything more pleasant than being tested by me. I grew pretty tingly myself.

As I said, I’ll just blame it on his sex appeal and my sex-deprived state.

My phone dinged and I pulled it out of my bag.

Ashley:
Well?

Me:
Got it. Thanks.

I dropped my phone in my bag. “Sorry. My friend just wanted to make sure I found it.”

“So what
was
the mission?” he asked.

I explained what we’d done with the glasses, gesturing toward the beehive fireplace. He nodded with approval and headed over, leaning in to inspect the ashes.

“I think we got all the pieces out,” I said, watching him. My heart had been beating at an elevated rate ever since I’d seen him out front. Being free to take in his profile at my leisure only made things worse. Grayson Piers is impossibly handsome.

He straightened and looked at me. “Much more creative than burning photos,” he said, grinning. “Did that get him out of your system?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know that he’s really been lingering in my system, to be honest. Does that seem strange?”

His smile broadened as he considered me. “No. I’d say that makes it your good fortune you weren’t stuck with him for life. Maybe it was my good fortune, too, or I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you.”

I smiled and wondered if he found it as unusual as I did that we were talking about my Almost Husband so easily, and that it didn’t lessen the draw I felt between us at all.

It is strange, right? But it didn’t feel that way at the time.

I’m not sure how we managed to advance things from there, but we ended up settling on the wide stone hearth that wrapped around the front of the beehive fireplace. After a half hour of talking and tossing those first little flirtations at one another, I received another text from Ashley that read:
You okay?

I glanced at him, sitting next to me looking intolerably sexy. I still hadn’t gotten used to his looks. Actually, I don’t know that I ever did. “Sorry,” I said. “My friends are wondering about me.”

“Roommates?”

“No, they’re just in for the weekend. They leave at o’dark thirty in the morning though. I figured they’d be asleep by now. Hang on. It’ll take just a second.”

“Take your time,” he said, giving me that delicious crooked smile. Yeah. I didn’t plan on leaving any time soon.

Me:
Just talking to someone. Don’t wait up.

Ashley:
Say WHAT? Who are you talking to?

Me:
No one. Just someone. I’ll fill you in later. Get to sleep. Seriously.

I silenced my phone and turned back to Grayson. Our conversation picked back up easily.
When I mentioned I’d just graduated from Hartman College with a degree in Business Management he tilted his head and smiled at me.

“Really? You don’t strike me as a Business Management kind of girl.”

“I don’t?” I tried not to look too pleased. “How do you see me?”

A slow smile spread across his face and I felt my cheeks get warm. I got warm in other places too, and let me tell you, I don’t know that I’ve ever quite felt all
that
for a guy I’d just met. So quickly. So willingly. As fast as things happened with us, I suspect it still could’ve happened much sooner.

“I don’t know,” he answered, still smiling, “but something that doesn’t involve a cubicle.”

I was, in fact, working in a cubicle. I’d tried camouflaging its prison-gray panels with a few decorations, but it still felt like a damned cubicle.

“If you could do anything,” he said, leaning closer and ratcheting up the electricity in the space between us, “what would it be?”

Have my way with you until you beg for mercy?

That should’ve been my first warning I was getting in too deep, because I
definitely
never thought anything like that about someone I hardly knew. Hell, I don’t think I’d ever thought that about
anyone
. But Grayson.
Grayson.
He hooked me in every way a man can.

I managed to keep my cool, and ended up answering his “If you could do anything” question more honestly than I’d planned. “Write a wildly successful food blog and make six figures a year doing it.”

His eyebrows raised and I tried to not look mortified. I wasn’t sure why I said it. True, I’d mentioned it to Brad a couple of times, but we both agreed it was a highly-unlikely scenario.

Brad said it would be better to apply my natural head for business and my organizational skills on a more sensible path. You know, degree. Job. Career. It had all made sense at the time.

And it worked. I did have a good job. At that shipping company in south Swan Pointe, I was making more than any of the Firework Girls (not including Isabella’s trust fund), and fresh out of college. How could I argue with such a good starting salary, especially knowing I’d probably be making twice that amount in a few more years?