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Because the truth is, Dash is right. This good mood of mine is 100% all about Grace.
And that isn’t necessarily a good thing.
Everything with her has happened so fast. I knew the attraction was there, but our chemistry is through the roof—and only getting hotter. Since finally giving in to temptation at the campsite, I can’t get enough of her. Her kisses, her wit, her incredible body…
But even as the thought of her sinking to her knees in that shower makes me hard all over again, I know it’s not just physical.
It’s as easy to joke with her as it is to talk about real stuff. She didn’t judge me for my failed marriage or make a big deal over it. Most women only tell me what they think I want to hear, but Grace isn’t afraid to call me on my bullshit. And sure, we disagree, but she challenges me from an honest place, which is refreshing. It drives me crazy when women only tell me what they think I want to hear.
My thoughts travel back to this morning, stroking every slippery inch of her body under the hot spray, until neither of us could take it anymore.
I want more of her. Already.
Now.
I can’t stop myself dialing her number, even as I know I should play it cool. What the hell are we even doing? Hell if I know.
But I do know, I need to see her again. And not just as my plus-one to the next wedding.
Soon. Tonight.
Naked.
“Hey,” Grace answers, sounding distracted. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” I reply. “How did the interview go? Did you knock her out?”
“Yes. But no? Kind of.” Clearly, she’s flustered. In a flood of words, Grace tells me about Katherine Vanderberg and her trial test. “So now I have to prove myself, that the whole Bret debacle isn’t some stain on my character and reputation.”
I feel a flash of guilt. The Bret debacle that I caused, by bumping into her in the first place. Sure, it brought Grace back into my life, but not without a cost—to her.
“How can I help?” I ask immediately.
“That’s sweet, but I don’t think you can,” she says, sounding dejected. “I’ve called three perfumeries around Manhattan, and they have no stock and no advice. One said they could try to recreate it as a rush order, but that would take a month, minimum, and it’s not what Katherine requested. She wants the real thing, by tonight.”
“Do you have a next move?” I ask. It sounds like Grace is hurrying, breathing hard.
“I’m going to start hitting the fanciest consignment shops around, I guess? On eBay, there’s half a bottle listed in Orange, New Jersey, but no full, unopened bottles in driving distance.”
Wait a second. I pause, thinking fast.
“There’s a regular at the bar,” I suggest. “I remember her saying that she runs a luxury consignment website. It’s mostly upscale clothes and accessories, but they might have perfume. Nouveaux, I think it’s called. Spelled all French and fancy.”
“I’ll look it up,” Grace says. While I wait, I confirm that I have Annika’s number in my phone. Seb tracked down an incredibly rare bottle of whisky for her last year, so maybe I can call in his favor.
“Holy shit, Charlie!” Grace exclaims, her voice rising in excitement. “There’s a bottle listed on the website! But how can we get it in the next few hours?”
“Her warehouse is in New Jersey,” I see, also clicking through the site now. “We can drive out, pick it up in person.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, sounding hesitant. “I don’t want to trouble anyone.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” I assure her. “I didn’t have anything planned.”
Anything besides three meetings, an interview with a prospective bartender, a lunch date with our accountant…
But they can wait. If this is important to Grace, then I’m going to do whatever it takes to help out.
“Where are you?” I ask, grabbing my car keys from my desk drawer. “I’ll drive.”
