Welcome Back to Mustang
Three and a half weeks later . . .
TO SAY I WAS FREAKING out when I drove my deep purple Lexus 250C up Gray’s lane toward his farmhouse would be an understatement.
I was totally freaking out. The palms sweaty, heart fluttering, brain consumed with panic type of freaking out.
Three and a half weeks ago, Gray and I had our dinner with Lash and Freddie and afterward Gray talked me into going with them.
I didn’t want to leave him.
“The sooner you get started on that, the sooner you’re with me,” he whispered to me in our bed in the hotel room in the dark.
I saw the wisdom of this and gave in.
So I had over seven years without Gray, just over a day with him, then off to Vegas I went to have another three and a half weeks without him.
This was no fun. Wrapping up my life in Vegas but most especially my life with Lash and Freddie in it was not a ball of laughs. And being separated from Gray didn’t help.
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’d sold everything from my old house when I sold my old house and 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.
“Hi,” I whispered.
Then I squealed.
This was because Gray leaned over my door and plucked me right out of my convertible. I squealed again as he tossed me over his shoulder. With long, fast strides he rounded my car and headed to the porch.
I wrapped my fingers around his waist and cried, “Gray!”
He kept walking fast, up the porch steps across the porch.
“Gray! Put me down!” I snapped.
He didn’t put me down. He kept going, into the house, straight to the stairs, muttering, “Jesus, top down, probably got third degree burns.”
“I lived in Vegas for seven years, Gray,” I told the small of his back, head and hair hanging. “I’ve been introduced to sunblock.”
He ignored me and kept muttering, “My girl’s got a purple car.”
“It’s tyrian gray,” I stated, though that was the official color name, it was still totally purple.
“Whatever,” he kept muttering, taking the stairs.
Taking the stairs.
Which meant going upstairs.
To his room.
My mouth got dry.
Up we went, down the hall then in his room, across it and I was flying through the air to land on my back in his bed.
I pushed up on my elbows, already breathing heavily, already turned on. I lifted a hand and pulled off my sunglasses. Then I stared at him standing by the bed staring at me.
His eyes moved down my body (cute black sundress, skintight, buttons all the way up the front, halter top and fabulous strappy black heels).
His gaze shot to my face and he whispered, “My girl’s home.”
My breath caught and my heart missed a beat.
Gray’s hands went to his tee and I watched him pull it over his head, exposing his unbelievably amazing (still) chest.
That’s when I started panting.
I scrambled to my knees, walked on them to the edge of the bed and my body hit Gray’s. His back bowed, my head tipped way back, his arms sliced around me, my arms curved around him and his mouth hit mine.
Then his tongue drove in my mouth.
I whimpered in his.
His hand went under my hair and I felt it tug at the bow that held the straps of the halter top. He broke the kiss but demanded roughly against my lips, “Get this thing off, honey.”
He let me go and, my eyes still locked with his, my hands went instantly to the buttons of my dress. His hands went to the belt of his jeans. It took effort, my fingers were shaking, but I undid buttons as did Gray. Then he got rid of his boots and socks. Then he got rid of his jeans and my hands stilled after releasing the last button that was mid-thigh.
Oh yes, I missed him. All of him.
Gray didn’t hesitate and surged toward me.
I went to my back, he landed on top of me and his mouth took mine at the same time he spread the dress open like unveiling a present. His body came to mine and I felt his skin, his heat, his muscle against me, and I arched into him.
He broke the kiss, went to his knees straddling me and his hands went under my arms. He hauled me up the bed and away went my panties. He spread my legs wide, dropped between them and suddenly his mouth was on me.
My knees cocked, my hips surged up, my heels digging in the bed and my fingers drove into his thick hair.
Oh God, yes.
Oh God, yes.
“Gray,” I breathed.
I loved it when he did this, loved it. Seven years ago, three and a half weeks ago, I loved it.
His hand went between my legs, fingers gently spreading me open as his tongue lashed then his mouth sucked deep.
“Gray,” I breathed, it came out deep, throaty, mainly because a half second after I said his name he made me come.
Still feeling it, I lost his mouth. My eyes dazedly opened as I felt the backs of my knees hooked around his arms and his hands were on my hips dragging me up his thighs.
Then he was inside me, pounding deep.
Still feeling it but coming down, I watched him watch me as he thrust into me, my body jerking with each thrust, his eyes burning, his handsome face turned on, his fingers digging into my hips yanking me to him as his hips drove into me.
My legs and torso moved, tensing, lifting. I wanted to go to him, touch him, fold into him, kiss him, but he buried himself deep, started grinding and growled his order of, “Lay still, Ivey. Your hair all over my bed, your body in my bed and me in you, I wanna see.”
My legs tensed into his arms automatically as another shot of heat penetrated me at his words and I whispered, “Okay,” and relaxed back.
Then I watched my man fucking me.
And I liked watching.
Oh God, this was hot.
“Fingers between your legs, baby,” Gray muttered low, his voice thick.
I did as I was told and once I did, my neck arched, my head pushing back into the bed and my eyes closed.
Yeah, this was hot.
“Ivey, look at me,” Gray rumbled and it took effort. I liked this. I liked being in his room, his bed, open to him, feeling him driving inside me, knowing he was watching me touching myself as he fucked me. I liked it a lot.
But for him, I gave him my eyes and a full body shiver trembled through me at the hot, dark look on his face.
He must have liked what he saw too because his fingers dug further into my flesh and he pulled me harder into him, plunging faster and deeper into me.
Oh God, oh yes. Oh God, oh yes.
This was hot.
“Gray,” I gasped then I came again, harder, stronger, overwhelming. So much I didn’t feel his arms leave my knees or his weight hit me or his face bury itself in my neck until I started coming down.
My arms and legs circled him then his hips started bucking in a way I knew.
“Honey, give it to me,” I breathed, his head came up, his hips drove deep, he stayed planted and I watched as he gave it to me.
When he finished his face went back into my neck. One of my legs slid down to curl around his thigh, the other one slid from around him, sole of my foot to the bed but I pressed my inner thigh to his hip. My hands moved along the contours of his back, feeling his skin, his muscle, his heat and memorizing it as I did his weight, his cock still inside me, his smell.
God, he smelled good. I forgot that. He smelled like outdoors and man.
He moved his head, his lips came to my ear and he whispered, “Welcome back to Mustang, dollface.”
I blinked at the ceiling. Then I burst out laughing.
His head came up and his grinning eyes came to me and, lucky for me, his lips were grinning too so I also got the dimple.
I controlled my hilarity and remarked, “I hope you’re not Mustang’s welcome wagon, honey, and that was all just for me.”
His grin slightly faded, his head dropped and his lips touched mine before he pulled back and said quietly, “It’s all for you, Ivey.”
All for me. All of him was all for me.
I sighed.
Then I smiled.
Gray’s eyes took in my smile before they moved to mine and he ordered gently, “Say you love me, Ivey.”
My body eased under his and I whispered, “I love you, Gray.”
“Welcome home, dollface.”
My hand moved to cup his jaw as my lips whispered, “Thank you, baby.”
His gaze got lazy before he gave me the dimple again.
Six hours later . . .
Makeup refreshed, a spritz of perfume, having run my fingers through my hair, re-donning my fitted, fabulous black halter-top sundress and strappy, spiked-heeled black sandals, my hand in Gray’s, we were walking across the porch.
And I was trying not to hyperventilate.
Because it was Friday.
And being Friday, we were heading to his truck to go to town for VFW steaks.
I was not ready for this.
Not at all.
“Maybe I should change,” I suggested as Gray walked us down the porch steps.
“You look beautiful, darlin’,” Gray replied on a hand squeeze, leading me around the porch and toward his truck.
The rusted out wreck grew closer and closer as my anxiety grew more and more.
“I have a lot of unpacking to do. Maybe I should get started on that,” I tried.
“Ivey, you don’t have a job. You have plenty of time to unpack,” Gray pointed out, walking me to the passenger side of his truck.
Okay, shit.
Okay, shit.
I didn’t want to face down Mustang, not now. They knew I was a burlesque dancer. They knew I was shacked up with a hotshot who they would never know was gay. These people went to church. They lived in a small town. They were not hardened, seen it all, done it all residents of Vegas.
They would think things about me.
They already thought things about me.
I knew it.
I could handle this if I had time to prepare. But a day full of having sex with Gray broken up to eat turkey and Swiss sandwiches and have whispered conversations as we lay naked in his bed, fingers trailing, bodies seeking and gaining contact, legs tangling, lips brushing, did not prepare me for dinner at the VFW where most everyone in the town of Mustang would be.
Shit.
Gray stopped me at the passenger side door of his truck, pulled it open and it creaked loudly. My thoughts of everyone in Mustang judging me fled and my eyes shot down to the door.
A smile slowly rose on my lips.
“Get in, honey,” Gray muttered and I looked up at him.
“Same truck?” I asked softly and he focused on me.
Then he grinned.
God, that grin. All the shit that went down, it still came easy.
“It runs, so yeah,” he answered.
“How much do you have to work on it to make it run?” I asked.
“Dollface, it’s American made so not much.”
He was totally lying. This thing was still running on a wing and a prayer.
Whatever.
“It’s twenty years old, Gray,” I told him.
“It’s fifteen years old, Ivey.”
I felt my brows draw together and I asked, “Is it?”
His lips twitched and he answered, “Yeah.”
“Looks older,” I muttered.
“Get in, Ivey.”
“Way older.”
“Get in, Ivey.”
“Way, way older.”
Gray burst out laughing, hooked an arm around my waist, pulled me into his body and kissed me, hard and closed mouthed.
He lifted his head and ordered, “Get . . . in, Ivey.”
“All right, all right,” I muttered, turned and climbed in.
The door creaked loudly when Gray slammed it.
I smiled again as I looked around the interior.
Candy bar wrappers. Gum wrappers. Chip bags. Receipts. Empty pop cans. The ashtray open and filled to overflowing with change that had fallen down and therefore was also on the floor.
Gray’s door creaked loudly, he angled in then it creaked loudly again as he slammed it.
He’d fired the old girl up, reversed and we were on our way down the lane when I queried, “Have you tidied the old girl up since I left?”
“The old girl?”
“Your truck.”
“Right,” he muttered, I looked at his profile to see he was grinning. Then he answered, “Probably.”
“By the looks of it, I’m not sure you’re telling me the truth.”
Gray glanced at me then back out the windshield before he replied, “Ivey, I’m a guy. This is a truck. It’s not a new truck. It’s not even a five-year-old truck. It’s a fifteen-year-old truck. I don’t tidy anything and definitely not a fifteen-year-old truck.”
“Now you’ll often have a classy albeit ex-showgirl in your truck Gray,” I reminded him.
“Good, so you can tidy it,” Gray replied and I giggled.
I looked out the windshield as Gray turned us on the road to Mustang. “So, if you don’t tidy anything, are you saying that even with Mrs. Cody gone, Macy still comes to clean your house?”
“Yep, every two weeks.”
“That’s weird, Gray,” I noted softly.
“Why?”
“Well, you’re a grown man and you have use of all four limbs, ten fingers, ten toes. Not to mention, your uncles are assholes and she’s married to one of them.”
“Yeah, they are. But they don’t come and clean my house. Macy’s not an asshole. Macy also knows I planted a shitload of trees two years ago, adopted more horses and had a fuckload of problems. So I’ve been busy and one of the things I don’t have to get busy doin’ is cleanin’ my house. It’s cool she does it and I’m grateful. Though,” I turned my head to see he’d done the same to glance at me grinning before his eyes went back to the road, “she doesn’t leave flowers anymore.”
“Well, at least there’s that,” I muttered and Gray chuckled.
“By the way,” I began to note after he quit chuckling, “you leave your ashtray open like that with change in it, you’re practically begging for someone to break into this wreck.”
“They wanna make that kinda effort for four some odd dollars of change, they can have it.”
There you go.
We fell silent as the old girl’s wheels took us closer to Mustang.
Shit.
As if sensing my thoughts went back to my worries, Gray said gently, “No one thinks bad things about you, baby.”
Right.
“Gray, you wouldn’t know. If they did, they wouldn’t tell you. But I’ll feel it.”
“They know we got played and they know what you did for me, for Gran, no one thinks shit about you.”
We would see.
I didn’t reply.
When I didn’t, Gray ordered, “Give me your hand, Ivey.”
I looked to him to see he had an arm extended to me, palm up. I put my hand in his and his fingers closed around tight.
Then he whispered, “No one thinks shit. They did, you think I’d put you in my truck and take you to town?”
He had a point there.
“No,” I said quietly.
“Then relax.”
I drew in breath.
Then I said, “Okay.”
His hand gave me a squeeze and he repeated my, “Okay.”
We drove to town, Gray holding my hand between us on the bench seat and me trying to be calm. The Gray I knew seven years ago would never make me endure something unpleasant. And, as far as I could tell, the Gray of now would be the same.
He parked, our doors creaked, we got out and Gray came around my side to claim me. He did this by sliding an arm around my shoulders and pointing me to the front doors of the VFW lodge. I slid my arm around his waist and let it pour over me, walking again with Gray, tucked to his side close, his arm around me.
Behind those doors might be good people who nevertheless held judgmental thoughts about me.
But I had Gray.
I’d be okay.
Gray pushed through the doors taking me with him.
Seven years hadn’t changed this either. The long tables with their benches were packed. Conversation hummed through the large space. And the smell of steak was in the air.
We took two steps in, me in my expensive dress and shoes, Gray in his jeans and tee.
Eyes came to us.
I should have changed. I was way overdressed.
More eyes came to us.
I definitely should have changed.
More eyes and conversation started dimming.
No greetings were called out to Gray as he led me down the aisle between the two sides of tables and it dawned on me maybe I couldn’t do this.
We hit a table where there were empty spaces across from each other three folks in, and Gray stopped me. But by this point the lodge was silent and I knew all eyes were on me.
I didn’t have my heavy makeup, my sequins or a spotlight to hide behind.
No, I couldn’t do this.
Gray’s arm tensed around my shoulders, my head started to tip back as my body curled close to his so I could whisper to him I wanted to leave when it happened.
Someone started clapping.
I turned my head in that direction and I saw Sonny walking down the aisle toward us, his hands smacking against each other, the sound booming loud in the silence of the space and an intense expression on his face.
What on earth?
Someone else started clapping and I whipped my head around to see Janie’s man Danny was doing it and as my gaze hit him he rose to his feet.
Someone else started clapping and my attention again turned to see Barry and Gene both rising from their seats, their gazes on me, their faces split in grins, their hands cracking together.
Another someone started clapping. Then another. And another. Suddenly everyone around us was getting to their feet, clapping, hooting, catcalling and someone shouted, “Way to go, Ivey!”
What on earth?
All of a sudden, I was no longer held in the curve of Gray’s arm but tugged into a tight embrace, iron bands clamped around me and in my ear a man whispered, “Saved Mirry, saved Gray, saved Mustang. Welcome home, Ivey.”
I pulled my head back and saw Sonny had hold of me.
I stared in his still intense eyes as his arms gave me a tight squeeze and he said again, “Welcome home.”
That was when me, tough, badass, hard as nails ex-Vegas showgirl Ivey Larue burst out crying.
Publically.
Okay, evidence was suggesting that maybe Gray, Lash and Brutus were right. I wasn’t all that hard. Instead, I was a big softie.
Shit.
The iron bands released but I was shuffled into Gray’s embrace as everyone kept cheering.
For me.
I shoved my face in his chest and kept crying.
Gray’s body moved so his lips were at my ear where he muttered, “Told you they don’t think shit about you. Or, at least, not bad shit.”
“Shut up!” I snapped, this muffled by his tee since I snapped into it then my body jerked with a sob.
“Pipe down! Pipe down! You don’t shut up, I can’t get their orders and feed Ivey.” I heard Sonny shout.
My body was again shuffled and I heard Gray ask, “Can you shift? I want my girl sittin’ at my side.”
“No problem, Gray,” someone answered as the applause started to die then Gray came back to me.
“Dollface, you wanna unplant your face from my chest so we can sit down and eat?”
“Not really,” I told his chest.
“Honey—”
“I have a feeling my makeup is messed up.”
“First, they got a bathroom. Second, I don’t think you get it that these folks don’t give a shit. You’re Ivey. You saved my ass. You saved my land. We got ripped apart and now we’re back together. And, bottom line, they like you.”
This appeared to be true on all counts. A standing ovation was hard to deny.
I shoved my hands up between us and swiped at my cheeks hoping I wasn’t doing more damage.
I tipped my head back and looked at Gray.
“Well?” I asked.
“Bathroom’s at the front, off to your right,” he answered.
Great. He gave that answer and he barely had to look.
He grinned and dipped his head to touch his mouth to mine.
He shouldn’t have done that. He really, really shouldn’t have.
Because when he did, the whole lodge again went crazy.
Great.
He lifted his head no longer grinning but smiling huge. I rolled my eyes, dashed my hand across my cheeks and pulled at his arms.
Gray let me go.
I walked to the bathroom lamely giving out waves to people who were clapping and shouting after me.
I hit the bathroom and tried to repair the damage.
And as I did, I stared into the mirror and saw Gray, Lash and Freddie were right.
There was no hard behind my eyes, no hard around my mouth.
I just looked happy.
“Welcome back to Mustang, Ivey,” I whispered to the mirror.
I grinned.
Then I went to go eat a fantastic steak.
An hour and a half later . . .
Gray’s arm around me, mine around him, he was walking me up the sidewalk toward The Rambler.
Three feet from the door I came to a dead halt in a way that Gray had no choice but to stop with me.
I looked up at him. “Okay, I could do the VFW, I can’t do this.”
Gray turned into me and curled his other arm around me.
“Honey, Janie can’t get away from the bar and she wants to see you. She feels shit for some things she said. You gotta give her that.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that.”
His eyes held mine. “Then what is it?”
I pressed my lips together and looked to the door of The Rambler before turning my eyes back to Gray.
Then I whispered, “I was happy there.”
He closed his eyes.
I sucked in a deep breath.
Gray opened his eyes and his arms gave me a squeeze. “Ivey—”
“And not only that, but this is . . . the VFW and now this. It’s our first date, Gray.”
“I know that, Ivey,” he replied instantly. So instantly, I blinked.
That was why we were here. Why he pushed me to go to the VFW. Why we were going to The Rambler.
He was giving me our first date again.
Oh my God.
How sweet was that!
“Gray,” I murmured, again feeling overwhelmed, this time in a good way, and he gave me another one of his grins.
“No shittin’ you, dollface, I could have started our first date with you naked in my bed for hours, I woulda taken that. I could have that date knowin’ you’d end it in my bed, I’d take that too. That was the best date I ever had, but, gotta say, this one’s better.”
I stared at him a beat before I burst out laughing.
His arms gave me another squeeze and when I sobered I saw him smiling down at me.
“Come on, Janie’s waitin’,” he said gently.
I nodded, he let me go with one arm and turned me to the bar.
We entered and I braced. The applause was awesome and I liked it, I liked why I got it, but I didn’t want to go through it again.
I didn’t.
Barry and Gene had transferred their asses from the benches at the VFW to their seats at Janie’s. Peg was at the bar as usual. It was Friday so the crowd was not heavy but it wasn’t light. And Janie was behind the bar.
Yep, God liked her. Seven years and she still looked great.
I saw her mouth move saying my name but I didn’t hear it. Then she moved to the near end of the bar.
Gray walked us toward her as Peg called out, “Hey, Ivey,” like the last time I saw her was yesterday.
I smiled at Peg. “Hey, Peg.”
She grinned semi-drunkenly back. It was early. She wasn’t sloshed. Not yet.
Jeez. Peg.
Well, at least she hadn’t died of liver damage.
I turned again to see Janie had cleared the bar and she was coming at me, smiling tentatively.
“Hey, Janie,” I said and her smile got bigger before it wobbled.
God, I hoped she didn’t cry. I didn’t have much makeup left. If she cried, I would and another bout would take the rest.
She made it to me and folded her arms around me.
I returned the favor.
I’d never hugged her and now I had proof that her breasts weren’t fake.
“Hey, Ivey,” she whispered.
My arms went tighter.
So did hers.
Neither of us moved.
Then her arms got tighter, her head turned and in my ear she started, “Years ago, I hung up on you when you were tryin’ to find Gray. And a month ago, I said some—”
“Don’t,” I cut her off and pulled my head back, keeping my arms around her and finding her eyes. Her head went back too. “It’s over. I get it. You do too. Don’t.” I grinned. “That’s done. Everyone’s moving on. I’m home.”
She studied me carefully, eyes moving over my face, they flicked up to Gray then back to me where she grinned and asked, “Wanna job?”
I started laughing.
She smiled bigger but she stated, “No joke, wanna job?”
I stopped laughing and stared at her.
She wasn’t joking.
Wow.
Could I go back to work at The Rambler after wearing thousands of dollars of dresses, jewelry and shoes every night at Lash’s club for years?
I didn’t know.
“Can I have a couple of weeks to settle in and think about it?”
“You can but job might not be there because, seriously, I need some help. But you think and even if that job goes, I’m sure you’ll find where you wanna be. It seems to happen that way, you hit Mustang.”
“Experienced that,” I muttered and she smiled again.
“Two beers, Janie,” Gray ordered, moving in to claim me. When he had me at his side with an arm around me, he went on, “Me and Ivey’re gonna play some pool.”
“You got it, Gray,” she murmured and grinned at me.
I grinned back and Gray turned me to the pool tables.
He got the balls while I got the cues.
This felt weird, this felt good and this felt sad.
I decided to focus on the former two.
Gray racked the balls. I gave him a cue. Janie brought our beers.
“Flip to break?” I asked.
“What’s the point?” he asked back.
I grinned and walked to the head of the table, leaned over and set my cue to the ball.
“Go easy on me, dollface,” Gray called and just my eyes tipped up to him.
“Not a chance.”
He smiled.
I looked at the table and let fly.
Balls scattered, two went down.
I hadn’t lost my touch.
Good to know.
Seven hours later . . .
I woke tucked in the curve of Gray’s body, his arm around me.
I didn’t know what time it was. I just knew, after Gray took me home, we had sex, and after, he cuddled into me in order to go to sleep at a time when it was way earlier than I was used to going to sleep. Lash and I didn’t hit his ivory sheets until two or three in the morning nearly every night.
It took me a while to find sleep but now I was awake like I could face the day.
It would take a while to get used to this.
But now, I had an idea and, lying there wide awake, I decided I was going to go with it.
I carefully slid out from under Gray’s arm only for it to tighten and bring me back.
“Where you goin’?” he rumbled in a sleepy growl.
Oh yes, I liked that. The growl and that he didn’t want to let go of me.
I liked them both.
A lot.
“Bathroom,” I lied. “Be back.” That wasn’t a lie.
He let me go.
I slid out of bed.
Then I moved through the house. Curtains open everywhere, moonlight shining in lighting my way. There was no one around to look through those windows, no need to shut the drapes.
For some bizarre reason, I liked that too.
I hurried down the hall and found my boxes in the guest bedroom. Then I searched for the box I wanted. As quietly as I could, I opened it and dug through it until I got to what I was looking for.
I did what I had to do and walked back to Gray’s room.
The sheets were up to his waist, he was still on his side, his exposed back to me.
I put a knee to the bed and trailed the tips of my red, feathered fan down his back.
Immediately, he rolled to that back and just as swiftly, in my shocking pink sequined panties and nothing else, I flipped a fan open to cover my top and threw a leg over him to straddle his hips.
“Jesus,” he muttered, voice already thick.
I grinned, not outside. Inside.
“You wanna turn on the light and make this multisensory?” I asked quietly.
“Darlin’, only person in this room who’s gonna move for the next half hour is you. I’d like to see you try to turn on the light and hide from me.”
I could do that, totally. I was a master of the feathered fan. It had been years since I danced but you didn’t forget that kind of thing.
“Half an hour?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Gray, my dances lasted five minutes.”
“Private ones go on awhile.”
He had an answer for everything.
He also wasn’t done.
“And, five minutes in, you lose the fans.”
That time I grinned on the outside.
Then I moved and turned on the light.
Gray moved too, to wrap his fingers around the sequined panties at my ass.
I bent toward him, fan spread wide between us and whispered, “You’re not allowed to touch the talent, baby.”
His fingers dug in as he did an ab curl and went up to sitting. I moved back with him and held the fan between us.
But I got a good look at his face and, getting it, I also got a good quiver somewhere in me.
His hands moved up my back and he answered, “Fuck that.”
“I thought you said I was the only one going to move,” I reminded him.
“Changed my mind,” he muttered, one hand still sliding up my back, one hand going back down to slide in my panties.
Oh yes.
“Honey, I can’t move my fan, there isn’t enough room,” I pointed out.
The hand heading up disappeared then the fan did when he jerked it out from between us.
“Gray!” I snapped but it came out breathy.
He moved and I was on my back on the fan spread out under me on Gray’s bed and Gray was on me.
“You’re ruining my performance, you know,” I informed him.
“Now, why don’t I believe that?” he asked me but didn’t wait for me to answer.
He kissed me.
Then he did other stuff to me. I did stuff to him. And we did stuff together.
Incidentally, for Gray, it wasn’t about the fans.
It was about the panties.
Important information to have.
An hour later, my fans and panties on the floor, my body tucked back into Gray, I didn’t have even a little trouble falling asleep.