CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PAIGE
I waited around Monday morning until Elsa could come over and hang with my dad until his new home health care nurse showed up. Then I lost myself in eight hours of work where I did at least a dozen oil changes and then helped out with a new commission for a 1964 Camaro. A rusted and dulled orange color with thick black racing stripes that ran from the front all the way to the back, it looked like a disaster when it arrived on a flat bed trailer. The rust all around the wheel rims and missing two tires were the least of our restoration problems. In four to six weeks, it would be a thing of beauty.
I called and talked to Melanie, the nurse, a half-dozen times and every time we spoke she assured me with a sweet tilt in her voice that everything was fine and she and my dad were just settling in and getting to know each other.
Everything Beaux had done made me more indebted to him. Not that I expected him to hold it over me. He was quickly showing me he was the kind of man to provide and protect and be a partner in all things big or small. Sure, he did it in a way that was way more bossy than I would normally be attracted to, but I’d also grown up with my dad, a man’s man through and through, being the only guy I knew. And in some ways, Beaux reminded me of him. Strong and resilient, confident with a hint of well-deserved arrogance.
When I closed my eyes while I sat in the office and thought about Beaux, I could imagine this was exactly the kind of guy my dad would want for me. It had nothing to do with the multi-million dollar contract attached to Beaux’s name.
It was his kindness and his patience and his easy smiles and his intensity and pure focus whenever I was in the room.
It was his undeniable sexiness that made my knees wobble every time he flashed his blue eyes on me.
Good Lord. I was falling for him, and for once, I didn’t want to step on the brakes.
I talked to Beaux last night on the phone. He called me after he got home from practice and the first thing he’d asked was how the nurse was working out and how Dad was feeling.
My heart turned to a pile of mush.
So when he told me—commanded, not asked—I was coming to his place tonight after work to have dinner, I had absolutely no way to refuse him.
I didn’t have a single excuse and for the first time since I could remember, I didn’t want to spend the time thinking of one.
Now it was Tuesday, and I was walking up the three small steps to his brownstone.
In my purse was a clean pair of underwear and a toothbrush, because if he expected me to pay up for his help with my body, I was primed and ready to go.
He’d already proven to me he wanted more than a quick one night fling.
I scraped a hand through my hair while my heart palpitated at an alarming rate.
“Dinner,” I told myself. “He’d only said dinner.”
I rang the bell and almost immediately heard footsteps echoing on the other side of the door. Quick and firm, they sounded hurried, and then the lock was undone, the door opened.
In Beaux’s typical, casual fashion, he was wearing a pair of faded, ripped jeans and a teal Rough Riders T-shirt. His hair was swept to the side and styled in that sexy and popular way of his. His jaw was clean of scruff giving me a perfect view of his sharp, defined jaw and beautiful full lips. I couldn’t do anything except stand there, on his stoop, mesmerized by the magnificent sight of him.
At six foot five, almost a full foot taller than me, he was a mountain of a man.
I loved his size.
“You coming in?” Beaux said, one hand on the door the other on the frame. “Or do you want to keep staring at me.”
“Yes.”
He laughed and reached out. His hand slid to my back, hot against the cool silky cream top I was wearing, and he yanked me inside.
I fell to his chest and then his other hand was at my jaw, thumb sweeping, driving me breathless.
“Have a good day?” he asked, murmuring and moving down toward me. His eyes dropped to my mouth.
I wet them on instinct and tilted my head up, seeking his mouth. “Yes.”
I didn’t have to ask and I didn’t have to wait long. His nose glided against mine and then his lips brushed over mine. He tasted sweet, with a hint of garlic telling me he’d been cooking dinner, which surprised and pleased me.
I’d assumed we’d order in. But his house smelled divine and I took it all in as my hands pushed into his hair, I arched into his body, and then my back was against a wall. He’d pinned me and yet I never felt freer.
“God you smell good,” he said, shoving his face into my neck. “And you taste even better. I just want to stand here and ravish you.”
It sounded like the perfect way to spend the night. “Yes.”
His breath warmed my throat as he laughed and he pulled back, kissing my nose. “After we eat. Need you to have some energy for later.”
He winked and stepped back, gripping my hand and leading me into the kitchen.
***
His home was an immaculate, narrow brownstone. The front room led into a dining room and then a kitchen. Beaux’s had an addition on the back with an extra large living space and I knew upstairs there’d most likely be three bedrooms and two bathrooms. They were typical of the Raleigh downtown area, some well over a hundred years old and decrepit, but Beaux’s had been modernized and updated over the years.
White quartz countertops and stainless steel appliances filled his kitchen and when we reached it, he pulled out a barstool. He demanded I sit while he finished grilling chicken and what smelled like lamb burgers on his gas stove top, added a side of asparagus, and then fixed up a salad filled with a variety of different lettuce. While he worked, he filled a glass of wine and slid it toward me and grabbed himself a bottled water.
Had to hand it to the guy, he had serious skills in the kitchen.
I moaned for what had to be the fifth time since I’d started eating. “How did you become such a good cook?”
“Have to eat twice as much as the average person and I need it to fuel me, not just fill me. In college, we had a nutritionist. I learned what I needed to eat, learned I liked doing it, and then I kept trying new crap.”
He always made everything he was talented at sound so simple. Perhaps he was that gifted at everything he tried.
I’d be jealous if it hadn’t so far turned out in my favor.
“How was your practice today?” I asked. The team hadn’t played great on Sunday and last night he’d said practice had been rough.
“Good. We’ve got some new guys on the defensive line and some timing kinks to work out, but we’ll get there.”
“Of course you will.”
“Yeah? You have that much faith in me?”
Yeah. I was beginning to think I did. “No,” I teased, laughing at the face he made. “I have faith in your tight end.”
“Powell? He’s your thing?” He held up a hand, covering his eyes. I laughed so hard tears were forming in my eyes. “Gah! Never mind. Don’t tell me. That dude’s marrying my sister and I don’t even want to think of you wanting him, too.”
“I don’t want him, you ninny.” I tossed a tomato from my salad at him. “But he’s more serious. More determined. From everything I’ve heard he’ll probably retire soon and I’m sure he wants one more ring.”
“Eh.” Beaux shrugged. “Once you have one it’s not important.”
Liar, liar pants on fire. “Really?”
He skewered me with a look and shoved a fork full of chicken into his mouth. After he swallowed, he winked. “Fuck no.”
We finished our dinner, talking about family, he told me about Shannon and the jewelry store she opened in the warehouse district. It was more successful than any of her wildest dreams, even though she was still certain part of her success had to do with being engaged to Oliver.
After dinner was done, I tried insisting he let me clean up but he filled my glass of wine back up and pointed toward the living room. “Go turn on the television. It’s your night off so relax.”
I hesitated. I always helped. Then I remembered just weeks ago I was thinking of how nice it would be to have a partner, someone to lessen my load, and notice when I needed a break.
He kept pointing. “Go.”
Fine. He wanted to wash dishes. I’d let him wash dishes. I hated doing them.
My next surprise came when I saw the two, at least seven-foot tall built-ins flanking his extra large television.
Filled with books.
I scanned the shelves. He had everything from courtroom dramas, murder mysteries, and thrillers to non-fiction autobiographies and self-improvement books. I was just finishing a sip of wine when Beaux entered the room.
“You read all these?”
“Plane rides get boring after awhile and you can only play so many games of Candy Crush or Casino Royale. Have to do something to not be bored out of my skull.”
“They have these devices these days, you know.” I made a sweeping gesture with my hand toward the shelves. “All these books fit on one small little tablet and you can read them there.”
He had at some point opened a beer and he brought it to his lips. “I like the feel of paper. Hate reading on my phone. Shannon bought me a Kindle a couple years ago and I never got used to it.”
“You are full of surprises.”
“Yeah.” He set down his beer and walked toward me. No, not walked. He prowled, slow and steady. I’d become his target and I didn’t for a second doubt his aim. “Want to see what other surprises I have for you?”
I did. I really, really did. I’d been a brat to him several times. He’d been nothing but kind to me.
He was the first attractive guy I’d been with in a long time and it wasn’t just physical, we connected on a level I didn’t understand. Perhaps it was our common, simpler backgrounds.
Perhaps it was the crazy thing called chemistry I never really fully believed in.
Whatever it was, I set my glass down on the coffee table and rested my hands on Beaux’s shoulders. “Yes. Show me more surprises.”