Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(55)

The word reverberates off the ceiling and bounces around the room a few times.

Boyfriend.

It’s almost…ominous.

I hadn’t thought of us being boyfriend-girlfriend. The rational part of my brain insists it isn’t a big deal, so what’s with the sudden onslaught of PTSD?

“Davis?”

“Right. I know. No boyfriends.”

“I’ve dated. I just…never labeled it.” Her voice dips, cautious now. “Anyway. Now that you and I are, I don’t know, dating or whatever, I thought it’d be nice if I introduced you to them. I don’t have any rad grandmas tucked away.”

At the mention of Grandma Rose, I shake off my bizarro reaction to the “bf” thing. God. I can’t even think the word. That’s weird, right? I’m being weird?

“I’m your guy, Gracie.” That moniker doesn’t cause a rogue wave of panic. “I’ll meet your friends. Name the time and place.”

“Well…” She clenches her teeth and grimaces. “It’s an engagement party.”

I wait for the full-on Nam flashback to hit.

Nothing.

Huh.

I shrug. “So I’ll wear a suit.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes brighten.

“I’ll even let you pick.”

“Hmm. I like this one….” She walks her fingers up my tie as she steps into the circle of my arms. “But I prefer your birthday suit.”

“You don’t say.”

“Mm-hm.” She nods as she wraps her arms around my neck. “But I don’t want anyone else to see it but me.”

“That rule goes for you too.” I palm her supple hips, taking possession of what’s mine. “No one but me, Gracie.”

“No one but you, Davis.”

“We’re officially exclusive,” I say.

“We were exclusive a long time ago,” she says, and she’s one-hundred percent right.

She tugs my tie, and me with it, and I follow her upstairs to the bedroom.





Chapter 20


Grace


It’s Saturday afternoon and it’s freezing.

The weather is a sloppy mix of rainy, snowy sleet, and the wind coming off the water is bone-chillingly frigid. I’m wearing my favorite black boots and little black dress, but my puffy down coat is killing the look. Davis is suited, as per his usual. His long, dark wool coat isn’t ruining his look but complementing it.

I express how much his sheer masculine beauty peeves me as we enter the hotel lobby and follow the signs that read ROXANNE AND MARK’S ENGAGEMENT PARTY.

“You’re insane. You look amazing,” Davis argues. “I nearly stopped the car three times to convince you to have sex with me in the backseat.”

“In this huge, dumb coat?” I closely resemble the kid from A Christmas Story.

The party is in full swing. Davis unzips my jacket and slides it from my arms, revealing my knee-length, curve-hugging black dress. “I knew this was underneath your huge, dumb coat.”

He’s smooth.

Davis shrugs off his own coat and checks it with an attendant at the door. The atmosphere is all very…uppity for Roxanne. She’s my funky friend—the one who would handcraft every invitation, party decoration, and table centerpiece before she would have someone else cater it for her.

This room smacks of money. Mark’s doing, I imagine. Does his family have a ton of cash or something? I’ve never seen evidence that he’s loaded, but now that the wedding planning is in full swing, I’m suspicious.

Rox bounces over to me the moment I make eye contact.

“Grace!” Champagne sloshes out of the flute in her hand as she strangles me in the crook of her other arm. Her pupils are blown out like maybe this isn’t her first glass of booze. She tilts her head to take in Davis’s height. “Hiya.”

“Hiya,” he repeats just as easy as you please. Gosh, he’s sexy. “Davis Price.”

“Roxanne Moore. My fiancé, Mark, is around here somewhere.” She waves a hand in the direction of the six-piece band.

Six band members.

Jeez Louise.

“Did your very wealthy distant aunt die and leave you her entire fortune to plan your wedding?” I ask.

Davis shoots me a look at my lack of decorum, but Rox takes it in stride.

“Mark’s mother’s doing. She’s sort of awesome.”

I take a gander around at the finely dressed staff. “I guess so.”

Rox hoists her glass as she threads her arm through one of mine. “I’m drinking as much expensive booze as I can. You should too.” She leads me away but first calls back to Davis, “Come on, hot stock guy!”

“Yeah, hot stock guy,” I tell him. “Come on.”

He plunges his hands into his suit pockets and swaggers behind us. I nearly trip and fall over Rox’s feet because I’d much rather watch his confident walk than look where I’m going.

This boyfriend thing has its perks.

Mark is talking with a group of guy friends when we approach. He gives me a pleasant smile and shakes Davis’s hand, then Mark pulls Roxanne close to proudly introduce her to the circle. She beams.

I love how happy she is. I’m glad her minor case of cold feet evaporated.