Play It Safe(88)

But obviously, this separation was different. Mainly because Gray called at six thirty every morning, waking me up. He also called at eleven o’clock every night, right before he went to bed.

At first, these early morning calls troubled me. As crazy as it sounded, I wondered if he didn’t trust me and he did it thinking he’d catch me in bed with Lash.

Then it hit me this wasn’t it. This was when Gray started his day and he wanted to start his day with me.

And this hit me because on day three, he flat out told me then stated, “We got different schedules so if when I’m callin’ don’t work for you, dollface, and you want me to call at different times, say it. I’ll stop what I’m doin’ to say good morning or I’ll wake up to say goodnight.”

There you go.

He trusted me.

And he’d stop what he was doing to say good morning or wake up to say goodnight.

I liked that.

So obviously since I liked why he was calling at those times and what he said, I’d replied softly, “No, honey, I’ll wake up with you when you start your day and I like being the last person you talk to before you go to sleep.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get, baby,” Gray replied softly back.

Of course, I also called him during the day when I had something to say, like telling him when I’d accomplished the task of boxing everything up. Then asking him when he’d be around to accept delivery. Then telling him when the movers were coming to get it and when he could expect them to arrive. Or telling him about a waitress we had who’d slept with two bartenders and three bouncers, was trying to pit them against each other and was working my last nerve (or, I should say, with this, I called him to moan about it). Or telling him my joy at learning Lash had shared his secret with Freddie. Or just telling him I missed him, loved him and was thinking about him.

And every time I called him, Gray stopped what he was doing to take the call from me.

Yes, even when I moaned for half an hour about the waitress, he stopped what he was doing, listened like he had all day and pretended really well that he was interested in what I had to say.

On day four of our separation, while I was still sleepy and whispering to him, Gray introduced me to phone sex. Later, he’d tell me he’d never done it.

Obviously, I hadn’t either.

Incidentally, Gray was a natural.

It wasn’t better than the real thing but it would do in a pinch.

But now, most of my belongings were already at Gray’s. I sold everything from my old house when I sold my old house and I moved in with Lash. Thus, with my usual fastidious saving considering I was a girl who once never knew where her next dollar was coming from and I didn’t want to be that girl again, I had a wad to drop on sorting Gray’s problems so it was mostly just personal items. I had a couple of suitcases in my trunk. And I had my car.

And I had me.

I’d taken two days to drive to Colorado even though it was really just a one day haul, about ten hours. But Gray nor Lash nor Freddie would allow me to do this because they didn’t want me to get tired. I explained I’d had ten years of driving long hauls with Casey and I was a current badass, ex-Vegas showgirl so tough enough to haul my ass across two states in ten hours. This was clearly not enough evidence for them seeing as not a single one of the three believed I was a badass or tough so Gray decreed no more than seven hours the first day.

It killed me to be only three hours away from Gray in a hotel but I saw the merits of this although they weren’t the same merits Gray saw.

My merits were that after three hours of driving the next day, I’d still be refreshed when I got to him. Not to mention, before I left I had time to primp but there wasn’t enough time in the car in the summer heat for the bloom to go off the rose.

Obviously, I drove with the top down. I mean, I had a kickass convertible, it was summer, I’d be crazy not to.

So two days it was.

But the overwhelming excitement of being back with Gray mixed with sadness of leaving behind Lash, Brutus and my life had now been replaced with panic.

We’d spent two and a half months together seven years ago. He was twenty-five, just twenty-six. I was twenty-two. We were young. What we had flamed fast and bloomed bright but we’d never lived together.

And a lot had happened in between.

I was worried this was a terrible mistake. I was worried that eventually the badass, hard as nails ex-Vegas showgirl that I totally was (no matter that anytime I said that to Gray, Lash or Brutus, they laughed their asses off) would show through and he wouldn’t like it. I worried we wouldn’t get along.

I worried about everything.

And now I was here.

Shit.

His farmhouse in sight, I saw him come out the door. He was headed across the porch before I even got close. By the time I parked, he was down the steps, waiting for me.

Nope, even though it was only three and a half weeks, nothing had changed about him. Faded jeans, tight navy blue tee, head-to-toe beauty.

God, I hoped I didn’t disappoint him.

I parked just beyond the porch so I didn’t block his truck (and he had the same truck I was both horrified and gleeful to see). I barely had the ignition switched off before he was at my door.

I undid my seatbelt, twisted my neck, tipped back my head and smiled nervously at him from behind my shades.

Yep, nothing changed. Total beauty even through sunglasses.