“But Kelsey?”
“She wasn’t a one-night stand,” I defend.
Arching an eyebrow, Ian’s look screams
really
without actually saying a word.
“She wasn’t.” I laugh. “We were together a month.” Ian continues to look at me as if gibberish is coming out of my mouth. “Okay, fine.” Finally giving in, I admit, “She was a month-long string of one-night stands. It was a month held together by nothing else, though.”
“Much better,” he says as he laughs. For a few more minutes, neither of us says anything else. Then, spinning in his stool, Ian looks at me as if an actual lightbulb is going on over his head. “It’s the redhead, isn’t it?”
Knowing Ian would make a bigger deal out of her than she was, I said nothing about Grace to him since she came to see me at the station. Where Ian is concerned, sometimes less is better.
But there is no denying it. It most definitely is her. From the moment I saw her at the bar, I needed to know if it was her or not. I’d thought about her over the years here and there. Probably more than was healthy at times. Especially when I was younger, I thought about her a lot. Where was she? How had she adjusted to moving? Did she like her new school? Then as I grew older, I wondered if she had a boyfriend? If her hair was still as red as it had been when she was a kid? Was she as beautiful in real life as she was in my dreams?
Of course there were times—spans of years even—when she never crossed my mind. College, mostly. But hell, most of it was a blur, anyway. It wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but my parents made me go, saying that I’d need something to fall back on if the fire department didn’t work out. In my own head, I knew it would have to work out. Being a firefighter was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do with my life. So the thought of it
not
working out was unfathomable.
It wasn’t lost on me that in those most significant moments—my first day of the academy and my graduation from it, my first day on the job, and my first fire—those were the times I thought of little Gracie McCann the most. It was because of her that my adult life took shape and I wanted nothing more than to thank the little girl I’d saved so long ago for giving my life a purpose.
Then, with every fire I fought, with every person I saved, I thought of Gracie. Mostly, I lied to myself saying I just needed to know she was doing well. But the more I thought about it, the more I needed to know what kind of woman she’d grown into.
And now that I knew she turned out damn fine, I couldn’t get her out of my head.
“Hey, listen.” Ian cuts through the silence. “I can see I’m pulling teeth here.” Dropping some cash on the bar, Ian stands from his seat. “See you at work.”
“You’re right,” I admit when his back is half-turned away from me. “It is Grace.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?” He laughs, joking with me and my absentmindedness.
Dropping back into his seat, Ian folds his arms atop the bar. “I’m listening.”
As I explain who Grace is and the significance she’s had on my life, Ian listens, almost shocked by the very unlikely story. He nods occasionally, but when all is said and done, the only words he offers, are “So then what are you doing here with me?”
Grumbling my response, I say, “She’s on a date.” After ordering another round of drinks, I explain, “She said it was because she had to be there for her friend. And I did show up completely unannounced. It’s not like I can expect her to put her life on hold simply because I want to get to know her.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Ian mumbles around the lip of his mug.
“What?”
“Look, I’m not going to get all poetic on you or any kind of shit like that.” Swigging down half of his beer, he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “But you pretty much won the lottery on that fairy-tale line of bullshit the chicks love. Boy rescues girl from burning house. Girl moves away and doesn’t see boy for eighteen years. I guarantee it, if you want to get to know her, she’ll let you. All you have to do is ask.”
Maybe he is right. Maybe it is that simple.
“I guess I’ll have to wait and see. Not much I can do about it tonight.”
“Yeah there is,” he says, tipping his empty mug at me. “Buy me another round for having to put up with you and your sorry excuse of a love life for the night.”
We both laugh and the conversation shifts to work—as it usually does. Somewhere around eleven, the bar starts to fill with the usual groupie crowd. On a mission and done with idle talk of work, Ian stands from his stool. Clapping me on the shoulder, he says, “Not that I don’t love wasting away with you here, but I am in desperate need of some female attention.” Like a fox, he scans the crowd. After settling on a group of dancing girls, Ian shoots me a sly grin. “And they”—angling his head toward them, he continues—“look like the attention-giving type. Wanna join?”
“Nah,” I deflect his invitation. “I’m beat. And I have to be at my parents’ house early tomorrow.” With a fist bump, he walks off toward his targets.
Shaking my head, I have to admit, there are times when I wish I could be as smooth as Ian. It’s not that he’s uncaring, but he doesn’t let his head get too clouded up with the
what ifs.
And right now, the
what ifs
are all that fill me.
But as I lean my shoulder against the door to leave, an arm loops through mine, stopping me in my tracks. The slight movement of turning to see who it is causes the person to stumble and push into me. It’s then that I realize it’s Kelsey. Drunk as a fucking monkey.
“Hey,” she slurs, drawing out the single word. Her eyes are half-opened, her drunkenness weighing them down. “Where are you going?” Catching her balance, she stretches up on her toes and presses a sloppy kiss to my cheek.
“Kels.” My voice is calm and firm as are my hands on her shoulders, righting her. “Are you okay?” My question is met with a confused stare, her brows twisting together.
Slapping a hand playfully to my chest, she purrs, “I’m fine. Could be a lot better.” Her hint is met with nothing more than a deep sigh. “What?” she responds to the dismissive sigh, curling her fingers around my arm as I finish pushing the door open.
When we’re out on the street, the buzz of the city flies around us. Cars race down the street. An ambulance wails in the background. A group of rowdy drunks divides and moves around us, forcing me to pull Kelsey out of the way. Of course she misreads this, thinking I’ve changed my mind and I’ll be taking her up on her offer of making the night a lot better.
“So, back to my place?” She looks up at me, batting her fake eyelashes, begging for my attention.
Turning her so she’s facing me, I grip her shoulders, making sure I have her full attention. “Kels, look,” I begin to explain. “This isn’t going to happen. It can’t.”
Acting as if she hasn’t heard a word I just said, she wiggles out of my grip and loops her arms around my waist. Pressing her lips up against my ear, she whispers, “It can happen and you know when it does it’ll be so good.”
“David,” a soft voice calls to me from behind, pulling my attention away from Kelsey before she has the chance to shove her tongue in my ear. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is.
“Grace,” I say, turning away from Kelsey.
“Who the hell are you?” Kelsey spits angrily, moving away from me and toward Grace.
Stopping her before she gets more than two steps away from me, I step in front of Kelsey. “Stop it.” My voice has moved from being firm, to pissed. The last thing I need is for Kelsey to screw this up.
“Grace.” My tone softens as I approach her. “What are you doing here?”
“The date was over,” she explains, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you said you would probably be here with your friend.” Her admission is shy and quiet, the exact opposite of the annoying grumbles coming from Kelsey.
“Are you done here?” Kelsey pulls at my arm, trying to twist me back to her. “I thought we were going to my place–”
“I should go,” Grace cuts through the beginning of Kelsey’s tirade. “You’re obviously busy.”
Kelsey steps in front of me, a smug look of satisfaction spreading across her face. Over her shoulder, I see Grace moving further away from us. My good conscience is momentarily torn between the two of them.
I can’t leave Kelsey here. She’s too drunk to take care of herself and it’s too late to leave her to get home safely.
I can’t let Grace walk home alone.
And the truth is, I don’t want to let her go.
“Grace!” I yell out, making her stop in her tracks. “Wait,” I add, jogging toward her. Glancing backward, I see Kelsey standing there, arms pitched to her hips, toe tapping a furious beat in front of her. “It’s most definitely not what it looks like,” I defend even though she hasn’t accused me of anything. “She’s drunk. I can’t leave her alone. Give me five minutes and I’ll walk you home.”
Grace scans my face, searching for some hint of truth, some sign that I’m not bullshitting her. “Fine,” she relents. “I’ll wait over here though.” Grace walks over to a table and chairs set up outside the bar.
Gathering my thoughts, I walk over to Kelsey, who still hasn’t cooled off much. “What is she still doing here?” Like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum of epic proportions, she points a finger over at Grace, who’s doing nothing more than sitting there minding her own business.
“She’s waiting for me to get rid of you,” I ground out through clenched teeth. Pulling her toward the curb, I hail a cab. Luck is most definitely on my side when one slides up to the curb almost as soon as my hand is in the air. As I open the door, I say, “You need to get home. Sober up.”
“What the hell, David?” she shrieks.
“Look, Kelsey,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on hers. “I said it inside before. This”—I gesture between us—“is not going to work. It never worked before. And yeah, it was wrong of me to lead you on, but I’m not doing that anymore.”
With an angry huff, Kelsey points over my shoulder. “Because of that slu–”
“Don’t go there, Kelsey,” I admonish sternly. “Stop yourself now, before you say something you regret.” Ushering her into the cab, I add, “Get home safely.”
The door slams with a loud
thud
and as the cab pulls away, I catch a glimpse of Kelsey sitting in the back seat, her face contorting in all sorts of anger.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way back over to Grace. I can tell she’s trying her best to avoid looking like she’s been watching the entire exchange. Kelsey puts on quite a show and Grace isn’t sitting too far from where we were. I know she had to have overheard some of it.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the chair next to her. “I’m sorry about that.”
Waving her hand in front of her, she says, “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have–”
“Don’t.” Reaching for her flailing hand, I stop short of actually touching her. The realization that I have no right to touch her halts my movements. The knowledge that I want nothing more than to touch her hits me with a force so strong, I fear I might fall out of my seat.
Her hand drops to the table and she looks at me. Her eyes show her confusion, and maybe more than a touch of anger. “Don’t what? Think I was a fool for coming here?” Shooting up from her chair, she mutters, “I’m going home.”
This time, I can’t stop myself from touching her. “Grace,” I call out, wrapping my fingers around her tiny wrist. Her skin is so soft, silky even. It takes more strength than I would have thought not to run my hands up the length of her arm, even if only to see how quickly I could cause goose bumps. Her eyes search my face yet again. Instead of anger, this time all I see is embarrassment. Wanting nothing more than to erase what she’s just seen, I admit, “I’m glad you came here.”
“You are?” Her voice takes on this hushed yet surprised quality.
“Yeah, look,” I explain. Extending my arm to the side, I usher us down the crowded street. When we turn down a less busy cross street, I find the peace I need to gather my thoughts. “It’s not what it looked like.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, her face twists, shooting me a look of cynicism.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Stopping in front of a walk-up brownstone, she turns to face me. “Care to explain exactly what you seem to think I saw?”
Oh, shit! What the hell have I gotten myself into? It’s not like I’m a relationship expert or anything like that. Hell, my track record would actually speak to the opposite end of the spectrum, but I’ve been around enough women to know
that
tone of voice. The one that means no matter what I say here, I’m going to be wrong. I know I need to avoid it like the plague, but somehow I’ve worked myself into a corner.
“Uh, that you think . . . I mean. . . . What you saw . . . Shit!” I curse, raking a hand through my hair. Beyond frustrated with the turn of events, I drop down to the steps.
Hanging my head in my hands, I keep my eyes trained on the ground. When I look up, I’m shocked to see Grace’s face softening as she lowers herself to sit next to me. “That wasn’t fair,” she admits. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Hell, I was on a date before I came to see you.”
“But I wasn’t–” My defense is cut short, but a sharp burst of laughter falling from Grace’s gorgeous lips. “What’s so funny?”
“I was on a date. My God!” Her laughter billows, wrapping itself around us and easing away some of the tension. “And I was on a date that first night, too,” she adds, sounding as if she’s just realizing this for the first time. “And now here I am chasing after you.”
Arching my brow, I smile at her. “Chasing me, huh?” She doesn’t miss the hint of pride coloring my question.
Slapping me lightly on the arm, she laughs. “Oh, get over yourself.” Before she can pull her hand away, I grab it in mine.
Pulling our joined hands to the small space between us, I focus my eyes on hers. “I don’t want to dance around this. And I sure as hell don’t want to screw this up.”
Her hand begins to tremble in mine and stroking my thumb on the tender skin of her wrist does nothing to calm her. “This?” Even her voice takes on a shaky quality.
“Yes, Grace. This,” I reassure her. “I don’t know what this is just yet, but I do know I want to get to know you more. And I can only imagine what you thought back there.”