Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(10)

I usually work out on my lunch break, but lately I’d been hitting the gym first thing in the morning. Except for today. Today I checked my phone every hour on the hour for Grace’s text and then, frustrated, came in during lunch to blow off steam.

We made a bet. She lost. Rules are rules.

Except I’m not sure that’s what’s bothering me. I’m not accustomed to rejection.

“Anyway,” the blonde continues, reminding me she’s there. I try to recall her name. It starts with an M; I remember that much. “Are you free tonight?”

She cocks a hip and lifts an eyebrow.

Mandi.

That’s right. A visual of what her body looks like without clothes snaps to the front of my mind. It’s not a bad memory at all.

“Sadly, Mandi, I’m not free.” Her eyes light as if she’s impressed I remembered her name, but the light snuffs out when I turn her down. “I have a date tonight.”

If she texts me.

“We could always hook up this weekend.” Mandi dips her chin and peeks coyly through her lashes. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why she’s willing to play sloppy seconds knowing I have a date tonight. Mandi’s fit, forward, and gorgeous. I bet half the guys in here would give their left nut to go out with her.

I take a step closer to her and touch her arm, just a gentle brush of my fingers. “Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe another time.”

Her sex-kitten ploy drops and she now looks peeved. I hear her mutter, “Whatever, jerk,” as she marches past me.

I watch her go, my gaze wandering past a bulky guy on the treadmill. He shakes his head like I’m an idiot for turning her down.

On my way to the showers, I consider that I am an idiot for turning Mandi down. She would have been a guaranteed good time tonight.

Instead I’m choosing to wait on Grace to text me, which is not guaranteed. Hell, if she does call, she could choose the basic Davis package. She might choose it out of spite, knowing it means she can’t touch the goods.

What I didn’t tell her was that the package doesn’t exclude my touching her. I can still touch each and every part of her. If she chooses.

I open my locker and check my text messages. One from Vince. Zero from Grace.

I’m not sure how long to wait.

Arguably, I’ve already waited too long.





Chapter 4


Davis


When I open the door to McGreevy’s, Grace’s head swivels in my direction, her hair curled the way I like it, her lush mouth parting into a smile. My chest gives a longing tug I’m not used to feeling.

Like I missed her or something.

Strange.

“Haven’t seen you around for a while,” she says casually. She’s bent over the sink washing a wineglass she then rests on a mat to dry. I most certainly do not admire the way her breasts jiggle with the move.

Much.

“Yeah. Busy week.” I rest my hand on the barstool. She knows I’m here to confront her: the ghoster.

“Staying for a drink?” Her smile holds.

“Why not?” I’m off-kilter but slide onto the seat anyway.

Once there, I fold my hands in front of me. A Sam Adams appears and, before she can skip away and act like there’s nothing going on, I latch onto her wrist.

Grace’s eyes widen.

“Forgetting something?”

Her eyes dart to the bottle. “Coaster?” A smirk finds her lips as I shake my head.

“You’re toying with me.” I let go and gulp down a few swallows of my beer.

“Only a little.”

Eyes on the television, I try to ignore her. Not easy when she smells so good. My immediate space is infiltrated by an exotic scent—flowers or cinnamon. Flowers and cinnamon.

Hell, I don’t know, I’m horrible at that sort of thing.

She walks to the far end, chats up a customer before delivering the bill, and cashes him out, then swaggers my way. And I do mean swaggers. She walks like a woman who knows the ball is in her court.

Allow me to lob another one her way.

“A girl at the gym asked me if I was free tonight,” I announce. I lift my beer but don’t drink, only hold it halfway to my mouth. “Repeats are the norm.”

Okay, that was an asshole thing to add, but whatever. I stand by it. I take that drink.

“And…what did you tell her?”

Placing my bottle back on the bar, I lower my voice, which has the desired effect of Grace leaning in to hear me. “I told her no, and then she asked me what I was doing over the weekend.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She grunts, droll. A pale tinge of pink stains her cheeks. Anger? Maybe. I sure as hell hope so. Anger means jealousy, and jealousy means Grace wants a piece of me.

Now that we’ve crossed a line, I’m all for it. Dangerous or not, yippee-kai-yay.

“I turned her down for that too.” I let Grace off the hook. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to go for the platinum, in which case I might be tied up this weekend.” I give her a wicked grin. “Or tying you up this weekend.”

Grace tosses her head back and laughs, which has the simultaneous effects of me grinning like an idiot and a rogue surge of pride swelling my chest. Don’t get me wrong, I’m used to charming women. But there’s something special about charming this woman.