Goodbye caution, p.2
Goodbye Caution, page 2
Oh, no she didn’t. She totally gave me the look!
“You’re just jealous.” I smile.
“Of what?”
“That you can’t hear what I’m saying and therefore cannot bestow your opinion upon me.”
She offers a slight chuckle and shake of her head. Aha—I’m right!
Just then, Claudia rushes in all flustered.
“Becca! I’m so sorry!”
“For what?”
“I’m half an hour late and my cell died!” She quickly takes off her scarf and coat to hang them up. “Sorry,” she says again and starts looking around, as if a magical agenda will fly to her out of nowhere. A total “deer in the headlights” reaction. I can relate ... been there, done that, been there again—so on and so forth.
“Calm down, chicky! You’re okay. Plug your phone in. Get some coffee and settle down. There’s no fire!” I am Becca: super boss!
“Ugh, why are you so awesome?” She hugs me and runs off for her coffee.
“I ask myself that every day, but I just am. I am awesome.” I shrug and turn just as I say the last part of my sentence.
“Hi, Awesome. I’m Grayson James.”
I slowly look up as I take his hand to shake.
Now, at five foot six, I’m above average for a woman’s height, but this guy towers over me. He’s got to be around six foot four. He’s breathtakingly gorgeous, with dark, chocolate-brown hair that is short and choppy. His matching eyes are delicious and rich in depth. Broad shoulders. He has to be the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on, for sure. I feel Sybil in full force exploding in my head. Princess Sybil is singing, “I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream.” Submissive Sybil walks out in her panties and grey tie, asking to sign the fucking contract.
Wait ... did he just call me “awesome”? Crap.
“Hi, Grayson. I’m Becca Campbell. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Thespian Sybil saves the day!
“Gracie!” Hazel practically screams as she rushes across the room to him.
“Gracie?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. Sybil-Becca laces up her high-top Converse. She dribbles, shoots, and scores! Becca is on the scoreboard. “Is that what you’d like to be called?” I add.
Grayson gives an embarrassed chuckle. “Oh, God, no! Bite your tongue, woman!” You first! You first! “Aunt Hazel, really, you mustn’t call me that anymore.” He holds Hazel at arm’s length.
“Oh, I know, honey. I’m sorry.”
The way she looks up at him, like he is the moon and the stars—it’s so sweet.
“Becca, will you show Gracie ... ahem, I mean Grayson, to his room? I’m just about to start teaching my class. I’m sorry, honey.” She looks up at Grayson. “The class is only half an hour, though. That’ll give you plenty of time to settle in.”
My head snaps to Hazel and I mentally ask her if she is out of her damn mind. Oh, my God. I can’t bring him to my room. Uh, his room. I’ve got Sybil the horny teenager cracking her knuckles and shaking her ass in here!
Feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, I glance back up at Grayson. He seems to be trying to bite back his amusement. His right eyebrow slowly stretches into a high arch.
“Hazel?” A small woman of about five foot nothing interrupts us.
“Oh. Hi, Terry,” Hazel says with a smile.
“Can you show me which tool kit I need for your class? I’m so overwhelmed!” Terry’s grip tightens around the straps of her craft bag.
“Sure, come with me.” Hazel places a hand on her shoulder to lead her to our tool section. My eyes follow them for a moment.
“So, Becca,” Grayson starts, and I bring my focus back to him. Jesus, he’s so close. The butterflies that have lain dormant at the pit of my belly stretch their wings. “Ready to show me to my room?” His voice is soft, like a secret being whispered. I stare up into his eyes, feeling trapped by some sort of strange spell.
His index finger glides down my jawline and curls under my chin. He thumbs my bottom lip free from my teeth. I try to steady my breathing, but I feel that I am failing quite miserably. Grayson pulls his hand away as Hazel approaches.
“Becca, show him to his room for me, sweetie,” she says, and rubs my back. Grayson’s eyes scan me up and down. His expression is as if he’s already “conquered” me. That arrogant son of a ... Thespian Sybil steps forward once again, in her best Shakespearian garb.
“Actually, I’m sorry, Grayson. I’m in the middle of something right now. But Claudia or Morgan would be more than happy to show you up.” Humph. I mentally flip my hair.
“What are you in the middle of?” Hazel asks, confused. Really?
I want to tell her I’m about to be in the middle of a panty check if I don’t leave this room.
“I have a scheduled phone appointment with a certain somebody about a certain something,” is what actually comes out of my mouth. Fortunately.
“Oh, okay, yes—you don’t want to miss that!” Good, she knows I’m talking Disney. She just doesn’t know I already had that appointment this morning. “I’ll explain later,” Hazel says to Grayson when she sees his look of confusion.
“Right. Well, Auntie, I surely can find my way.” His smile to his aunt slowly turns into a mischievous smirk toward me.
“Bye, Gracie,” I add, shooting him a “bring it” smile before walking away. C’mon, Thespian Sybil ... let me buy you a drink! Oh, why does he have to be gorgeous and have an English accent? I seriously need to get my head on straight. How am I going to be around this guy for three weeks? Oh, Thespian Sybil, we need to lock up the other girls!
Since Mr. James’s arrival three hours ago, I’ve locked myself (and the other girls) in what was once my office. It has now secretly become my panic room. I’d like to say I’ve gotten a lot done in here today, but all I’ve managed to do is move some papers around. I’m quite terrible at organizing. Mostly, though, I thought about my reaction today.
It was so unlike me. I never act that way around any man. Of course, he’s probably the most beautiful man I’ve ever met—but I’ve been around other handsome men before. Okay, his accent doesn’t help. To me, a man could be the roughest-looking bloke in the world, but an English accent will always soften him. Did I just say bloke? Jeez, Becca ... whatever you do, do not imitate an English accent in front of him. That would be disastrous!
Oh, no! He has my best room. That’s right next to my room. Oh, Hazel, what are you playing at? No—Hazel wouldn’t have a hidden agenda. She knows, to a point, about my terrible marriage. How cruel George was to me (may he burn in hell). She knows this is why I don’t get involved with anyone. Besides, she looks at “Gracie” like he’s still five years old. Surely she’s not trying to marry him off or anything.
How old is he, anyway? He must be in his thirties. I don’t think he’s younger than me. Then again, I never think anyone is younger than me. While the mirror and my birth certificate say thirty-five, my mind adamantly argues that I’m twenty-five. Christ, I need to pull myself together here. I have not put this much thought into one man since ... since, well, Joe McIntyre! And you know what? When I met Joe McIntyre, I didn’t act like some crazy schoolgirl—and I was a crazy schoolgirl! What is wrong with me?
Shit! It’s two forty-five in the afternoon. I have to teach a distressing class in fifteen minutes. Oh, the irony! I’m distressed, and I’m teaching a class on how to distress ... really? If he hadn’t shown up here earlier than planned, I wouldn’t be so distressed!
“Ugh ... pull it together, Becca.” I grab my instruction sheets to pass out to the croppers. I rush out quickly and look down, trying to catch some of the papers that spill from my arms. Rushing forward, I somehow manage to trip over my own feet (please, like that doesn’t happen all the time!) and land against a hard, great-smelling, human wall. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I start, as I look up to see whom I’ve just collided into. Of course. Just when I thought it was safe to come out of my “panic room.” This is exactly why I don’t go swimming in the ocean!
Occasionally, I feel the need to change the theme song to my life. And it’s official. Today’s theme song is “Ironic” by Alanis Morissette.
“Becca, are you okay?” Grayson shakes me lightly. I open my eyes.
Wait! I had my eyes closed while changing my theme song? Yes. Of course. I was being poisoned by the intoxicating smell that is Grayson James. British, beautiful, lovely scent ... I’m doomed.
“Yes. Yes, sorry. I must’ve gotten up too quickly.” You believe me, right?
“Well, are you okay now?” he asks. Concern has replaced his earlier arrogance. I find myself wanting to relax a bit, but his hands are squeezing my upper arms, his thumbs caressing my shoulders softly. The pack of baby butterflies in my stomach has morphed into a giant alien butterfly that is trying to break out. My heart pounds in my ears. Does he realize how hot that little beauty mark under his left eye is? I’m feeling the urge to kiss it.
“Becca?” he asks again. I can’t speak. I just slowly glance in the direction of my shoulder. He follows my gaze, then stops his thumbs and pulls his hands away. “Right!” he says, with too much certainty as he runs his hand through his hair. “Well, I was wondering if I could, that is, if Morgan wouldn’t mind, that I take her horse out for a ride. Uh ... Aunt Hazel said there are some great trails around here.” He blinks wildly. What is it with British men and the rapid blinking when they are nervous?
Wow, look at him go. I wish I knew Morse code. Beep, beep, beep, beep ... beep, beep. It sounds—or looks, I should say—urgent.
“Is something funny, Ms. Campbell?” he asks with a hint of irritation. Apparently I giggled out loud.
“No. No, I’m sorry.” I touch his arm. “Yes, Mr. James, you may take Morgan’s horse.” I can be formal, too. “I’m sure Charlie would love to go riding with you. He’ll show you some of the trails.” He stares at me intently now that his eyelids have settled. I can see his eyes running side to side, like he’s scanning my face. Did he go into Charlie Brown mode? “Mr. James? Grayson?”
Wait, when did he get this close to me? The muscle in his forearm slightly twitches under my touch. His breath is hot in my face. Again, when did he get this close? His eyes are still scanning my face as he gently grazes my cheek with the back of his hand. Oh jeez ... he wants to kiss me! He’s searching for my answer. Sybil? Any Sybil? I mentally beat on all of their doors. I’m alone; one crucial moment, and they’ve left me. My internal alarms all scream at once, and the girls fly into action out of nowhere and start the lockdown. Walls go up; extinguishers on the fire.
“Please don’t.” I grab his hand gently and look him straight in the eyes, giving him a look that says, “I’m really, really sorry, but please back the fuck off.” I release his hand and arm. “Go see Charlie,” I add, before I turn to walk away.
Before I walk too far, he takes my hand and turns me back toward him.
“You have a two-hour block of free time in your schedule tomorrow afternoon. Will you show me around your property?” He’s blinking rapidly again.
Cautionary Sybil, director of all affairs of the heart, unrolls a rather long scroll of reasons I should say no.
“Yes. Now go see Charlie.” I allow a small smile. I don’t want to over-encourage him. I’m not exactly sure what just happened here. I’ve known him for about a New York minute, and he’s managed to rattle my cage when other guys couldn’t even get near it—no matter how long or hard they tried. “I have to go teach my class now.” I look down at my hand. He’s still holding it.
“What are you teaching?” There goes his thumb again.
“Distress.” I can’t help it; I release another giggle and shake my head, biting my lip to stifle any more that may come out. “Please, Grayson?”
“Yes?” His eyes search me again, thankfully at a further distance.
“My hand.” I look to it.
“Right!” He releases it and runs his own through his hair again. “Charlie—horse,” he states. “Well, not a charley horse. I’m going to see Charlie. About a horse,” he corrects himself, flustered.
The lip biting is not effective, and I can’t contain my giggle. He chuckles too, as if he can’t help but laugh at himself. He runs his hands over his face. I think he’s trying to pull himself together.
“Right!” he repeats, and heads for the door. But then he sighs and turns back to me. “I’m sorry, Becca,” he says. “I’m a selfish man.” He strides toward me with determination. Before I know it, he palms my face and pushes my back up against the wall. He searches again. This time he’s not asking me—he’s telling me.
My mental white flag goes up and I give him a slight nod. His lips slam against mine with such urgency I drop the stack of papers in my right arm. He deepens the kiss with a slip of his tongue and releases a soft groan when I run my hands up his back and pull him closer to me. His sense of urgency dissipates. I think he realizes he’s won. His kiss is more playful as he explores my mouth and I, his. His lips trail across my jawline and down my neck. I turn my face into his palm and kiss the middle of it until he finds my lips again. Christ, I’ve got to be at least ten minutes late for my class and we’re here in the middle of a full-blown make-out session, out in the open, where anybody could see us. Anybody. Morgan!
“Grayson, stop. Stop ... please.” I put a hand up between us.
“No. Don’t ... don’t push me away.” He breathes in between kisses.
“Morgan. Grayson. Please. I. Don’t. Want her. To. Walk. In on us.” My words escape each chance they get. “Please!” I say urgently as I turn my head to refuse his advances.
“Sorry.” He tries to catch his breath as he leans his head up against mine. I move my face back to his and run my fingers along his jaw. I push up onto my toes to kiss the beauty mark under his left eye, then place a quick peck on his lips. He pulls me to him, hugging me and kissing the top of my head. I can’t help but gasp when I feel his erection against my belly. He pulls back a little and looks down at me to see what caused my reaction.
“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “He’s a friendly bloke. He’ll make you scream a little but, it won’t be from horror.”
“You’re pretty damn sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I snap. The cocky bastard! Just because I kissed him doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with him! I push him away and bend down to the floor to pick up the papers I dropped.
“Becca, darling ...” he bends down to help. “Where’s your sense of humor? I didn’t mean anything by it. I certainly never wished to offend you. C’mon, sweetheart.” He tries to touch my cheek, but I smack his hand away.
“I am not your sweetheart! Will you go and see Charlie about the fucking horse and leave me the hell alone?” I grab the papers from him harshly, avoiding his eyes at all costs.
“Becca!” Hazel says in a shocked tone. I move my head to the right and find her standing a few feet behind Grayson. “How dare you talk to Grayson like that? He’s my family! How could you be so disrespectful?”
Hazel has impeccable timing.
“Hazel ...” I start, my eyes welling up. I feel my chin quiver as the hurt blankets her face. I love this woman as if she were my own mother. I would never do anything to hurt her.
“No!” she snaps. “All I do is talk about how wonderful, smart, and beautiful you are, and how much I love you. I’ve been begging Grayson to come here for so long and the first day he arrives you show him nothing but ugliness! You were rude to him when he got here, then you ignored him all day. Now I find you yelling at him for no reason!” Her tears have made her powder-blue eyes more piercing. She’s disappointed in me. I feel my heart breaking.
Like a five-year-old little girl wanting to make everything all better, I turn to Grayson. My tears pull away from their respective puddles in my eyes
“I’m sorry, Grayson.” A little sob escapes my throat.
“Oh no, Becca, please. Aunt Hazel ... really!” He looks at his aunt pleadingly. “You’ve walked in on the tail end of things. Becca had every right to lash out at me the way she did. I baited her,” he argues as he walks over to her to grab her hand. “Auntie, I said something that was very inappropriate, and I probably deserved a good slap in the face for it.”
“What did you say to her?”
She’s not sure if she believes him. That sends another pang through my heart. It reminds me that he’s her “real” family. Her loyalty is to him. Trying to avoid eye contact, I busy myself again with picking up papers.
“Really, Auntie, I’m already embarrassed. You would be ashamed of me and I couldn’t bear that.” He brings her over to me as I stand, having collected the last paper. “Really, you two love each other so much. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I were the reason you had a falling out.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it.
“You were still rude to him this morning. You ignored him all day. You never spend a full day in your office!” Hazel hates to be wrong.
“Yes, but Aunt Hazel, she’s already made that up to me. You’ve should’ve seen how sweet she was to me a few moments ago.” He smiles for our benefit, and I try to hold back my own. “I’m the one who caused all of this. Please, let’s all kiss and make up.” He keeps smiling, but raises an eyebrow at me. Cocky bastard!
“Oh, Grayson, you’re right. I’m sorry, Becca.” She hugs and kisses me.
“No, I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself all day. I can’t figure out the devil why.” I shoot a look at Grayson as I accentuate the word “devil.”
He gives me a shocked look and points his finger at himself. “Me?” he mouths, then shakes his head with a grin.
“I told him to ask you about the horse. I was hoping you had snapped out of it by now,” Hazel says, and smiles up at me.
“Oh, I have. And I tried to be extra accommodating to Gracie! I really wanted him to know I’m sorry for my earlier behavior.” I look past Hazel and catch Grayson’s eyes. They look wild.
“Yes, Aunt Hazel, Becca was very accommodating. She’s really sweet,” he adds, licking his lips—and biting the bottom one.
Claudia steps into the room and clears her throat for attention. “Becca, you’re twenty minutes late for the class. Did you forget?”
