Grinder (Seattle Sharks Book 1) (5 page)

 I swallowed hard, convincing myself I was simply great at my job. Sure, I wasn’t Gage’s maid—not that I hadn’t thought about buying a little sexy outfit and making his morning eggs in it just to see if he’d cross the line I desperately wanted him to—but it didn’t mean I couldn’t make sure his life functioned as easy as it possibly could while I was here. Being a single parent was hard enough, add to it his NHL status, and the bad-boy-trio he was apart of that the paparazzi loved to snap shots of at the clubs? It was a recipe for stress upon stress. Anything I could do to relieve that was well worth it. Lettie deserved him at his best…and maybe I just liked being the one to take care of him.

 A red-hot image of just how well I could relieve his stress—one with him lying back on the bed and me on my knees below him, exploring him with my mouth in ways I only ever thought about in the cold sheets at night—flashed behind my eyes. I tilted slightly while walking, making a mental note to chug some water to take the edge off this buzz. Lettie would be up at six a.m. tomorrow and I didn’t want to be tempted to murder Jeannine for the hangover that was almost surely promised.

Hangovers and early morning cartoons didn’t mix.

Jeannine tugged Paige down the hallway and up the stairs, only managing to get her into the kitchen where she took up a firm seat at the island and refused to go any farther.

“I’ll wait while you check the snack levels, thank you very much,” Paige said, jutting her chin out. There was no arguing with her, the woman turned billionaires into weeping puddles when they tried to force a deal on her she didn’t want. Jeannine and I didn’t stand a chance.

“Suit yourself,” I said and lowered my voice while Jeannine checked out the fridge. “But you know she’ll never let that list go. She’s like a dog with a bone.”

 “I can hear you,” Jeannine said, riffling through our produce drawer.

 “A very pretty and talented dog!” I yelled and padded barefoot across the marble floor, taking a sharp right down the hallway that lead to Gage’s game room…

 And ran straight into his hard chest.

 The momentum nearly threw me back on my ass, but he quickly steadied me with two strong hands on my hips.

 “I was just coming to check on you,” I said, slightly breathless, like the physical contact sucked the air right out of my lungs. Why couldn’t I breathe when his hands were on me?

 “Funny,” he said, releasing me. “I was about to do the same.”

 I arched an eyebrow at him.

 “And to make sure we weren’t being too loud…for Lettie.” He quickly added.

 “You’re fine. For a bunch of Sharks you’re all very tame,” I said and my cheeks flushed. Damn margaritas made my tongue want to say—and do—naughty things.

 “Oh, if you think I’m tame you’d be in for a real surprise,” he joked and the innuendo sent heat through my blood. The hallway seemed too small and dark suddenly and was filled with his scent—a crisp, sharp soap and salt smell that I loved catching whiffs of all throughout the house.

 He gazed down at me with those blue eyes of his and my panties may as well evaporated. All it’d take would be one move from him, one
hint
, and I wouldn’t be able to resist him—because I didn’t want to.

 “Really?” I asked, stepping closer to him. “You know how much I love surprises.”

 He seemed content to stare down at me, waging some internal battle I couldn’t decipher, and didn’t wait to. Fueled by margaritas and the dirty girl bucket lists Jeannine had assembled, I put my hand on his hard chest, lightly tracing the ridges of his muscles with my fingers.

 I wanted to know what his skin felt like, tasted like.

 Hell, I wanted to know how well he’d fill me.

 When he didn’t stop my wandering fingers, I pressed up on my tiptoes, leaning into him, my lips a breath away from his mouth that I thought about on a near-constant basis. He sucked in a sharp breath as he grabbed my hips, those long, talented fingers of his digging into my curves. I closed my eyes, my heart racing. I was beyond ready to taste Gage after all this time of
want.

 
He gently pushed me backward, away from his glorious mouth, and the body I’d drooled over for months.

Heat flushed my skin and the rejection wilted my racing heart, but I didn’t lose his gaze.

 “I can’t—”

He what?
Humiliation washed over me, heat stinging my cheeks.

 “Of course,” I cut him off, not needing to hear his reasoning because it would hurt too damned much.

 After all, the man gave away sex like free samples at a department store. He just didn’t want to give it to me.

I pushed away from him, stumbling slightly, but avoiding his hands as he tried to steady me. “No. I’d hate for you to have to touch me.”

“Bailey…”

“No,” I said, backing down the hall. “No need to explain. I got the message loud and clear,
boss.
” I tucked tail and ran back to the girls, and the copious amounts of alcohol I was going to need to forget this.

I
pulled
the bottle of Tylenol out of the cabinet and cursed myself for the thousandth time. She’d been right there, her mouth inches from mine, looking at me with those soft, hazel eyes, and I’d rejected her.

I was either a saint or the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.

My dick was arguing the latter.

“Daddy, I think Bailey is up!” Lettie whispered so loudly that I heard her across the kitchen.

“It sounds like it,” I whispered back just as loudly. The microwave clock read ten-thirty. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time Bailey had slept in. It sure as hell hadn’t been since she moved in with us. She needed a morning. Hell, after last night she needed a week full of mornings.

I slid a glass of water across the bar as Bailey walked in, her little bare feet padding along the hardwood. Even her painted toes were somehow sexy.

“Morning,” I said softly, motioning to my peace offering, as shitty as it was.

“Thank you,” she answered in the same tone, popping two of the small pills and taking half the glass of water with them.

“Good morning, Bailey!” Lettie shrieked in glee.

I winced at the same time Bailey did. I’d quit drinking when she’d been born, knowing that I needed to be at my best for my daughter at all times, but it wasn’t like I didn’t remember being hungover. College was a bitch.

“Hey, Lettie,” Bailey said, dropping down to hug her. Her eyes held no censure for the volume of her voice, just open acceptance and a profound love that was echoed in my daughter’s eyes.

Lettie kissed Bailey’s cheek and then ran back to her spread of art supplies on the table.

Bailey stood and downed the rest of the water before coming around the island to pour a cup of coffee, her motions stiff. She wouldn’t look me in the eye.
Cue awkwardness.

“So, about last night,” I said, ready to just bite the bullet.

“What do you have planned for the day?” she asked, changing the subject as the keurig hissed to life.

“Bailey—”

“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. Her brown mass of hair tumbled with the movement.

Tension clung to the moment, tightening my chest in a way I’d almost forgotten. How long had it been since I’d really cared what a woman had thought? Felt? I waited, fighting my basic need to spin her around and demand she talk to me.

Finally, she turned, holding her mug close to her face and looking up at me from under long, thick lashes that framed incredible eyes. “Look. I don’t want to talk about it,” she said quietly, her eyes darting to where Lettie sat.

“I don’t see how that’s an option.”

She shrugged. “Pretty easy. We agree to never speak of it. Kind of like Fight Club.”

A corner of my mouth tilted into a smile. “Isn’t another rule of Fight Club
no shirts?
”

Her cheeks flushed and I nearly kicked myself. “Right, well, that won’t be a problem.”

“It’s just that with Lettie—”

She put her fingers over my lips to silence me and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to suck the digits into my mouth just to see how her skin tasted. “No, you don’t need to explain. I was in the wrong, and it won’t happen again.”

She slowly lowered her hand from my mouth.

My forehead puckered.
Never?
Wait, wasn’t that what I wanted? I couldn’t kiss her, touch her, taste her like I wanted. Not when there was Lettie to think of. What if shit went south and I lost my nanny? Lettie lost her best friend?

“I think it merits a discussion,” I said my voice above the whisper we had been using.

“Well, I don’t!” she snapped then winced, her free hand flying to her temple. “Ugh. What was I thinking?”

“That you deserve a chance to let loose every once in awhile.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you letting loose with the tequila.”

“I have other vices.”

She snorted, the sound oddly endearing. “Yeah, I know all about those.”

“Yeah, you’ve had a front row seat, which is why—”

“Just stop,” she pled. The sadness in her eyes halted me like nothing else could have.

“Bailey.”

“No. It was humiliating enough without you having to rehash the whole incident. Could you please drop it and let me keep whatever’s left of my dignity intact?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and let her walk away. My eyes followed her as she crossed the living room to cuddle up on the couch with my daughter. The Sound of Music started playing, and I knew they were in for a movie-morning.

I needed to run this off.

Hard.

“Hey, I’m going for a run, is that okay?” I asked.

Bailey raised her hand and waved me off. For fuck’s sake, she wouldn’t even look at me anymore. I tied my running shoes and was out the door in record time, the fall morning crisp and cool despite the forecasted rain later.

My feet pounded against the pavement as I wove through our neighborhood, trying anything to get Bailey off my mind. I finished the first mile and kept going, my frustration fueling me to nearly super-human speed.

Damn it, we’d lived in the same house less than a week and we’d already crossed the one line I was adamant we couldn’t. It didn’t matter that she was gorgeous, that her hazel eyes drew me in and kept me, or that my dick rose to the occasion whenever she walked into the room.

None of that mattered.

Bailey was friend-zoned, damn it, and not just because of our Moms. No, in all honesty, they were the least of my concerns. Bailey needed to stay on the other side of the friendship line because of Letti—because as long as I kept my dick in my pants and away from Bailey, maybe she’d stay.

Women left. It was just a fact of life, and while I could survive another blow, I knew Letti couldn’t. Helen walking out had crushed her, even though she hadn’t understood at the time. She’d only been two. She didn’t know how to process that her “mother” had left us for a better, uninjured prospect, she’d only known that mommy didn’t come when she cried.

Eventually she’d stopped asking for her, and that had broken my heart a little more.

Yeah, I could take it if I fucked up and Bailey walked out.

But Letti?

I’d be damned if I was going to do a fucking thing to hurt my baby girl.

I pounded through another four miles and ended in front of our house, stretching on the front lawn much to the delight of the gardening stepford wife across the street.

“Hi, Gage,” she said, smiling from under a wide-brim hat.

“Laurie,” I acknowledged, turning to walk back into the house. She’d been hinting since we moved in, and relentless the last year or so.

“Sure is hot out here,” she called after me. “Want to come in for a drink?”

Fat chance in hell.
“Maybe another time,” I suggested with a neighborly smile and retreated into the safety of my house.

When I heard Bailey’s laughter from the kitchen I realized that I’d just jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.

“Daddy! Cookies!” Lettie yelled from her perch on the kitchen counter where she sat happily licking dough off one of the beaters.

“I see,” I said, my smile instant. “Are they yummy?”

“The yummiest!”

I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and did my best to ignore the way Bailey’s ass looked in yoga pants as she reached into the oven for another tray.

“Try one,” Bailey suggested, holding one in the palm of her hand.

Her eyes were as warm as the chocolate-chip cookie she offered and I sank into them. There were reasons I couldn’t touch her, reasons I couldn’t—

My lips closed around the tender skin of her fingers as I gently bit into the treat, letting my tongue lick the chocolate off the delicate tips. I wasn’t sure what was more delicious—the cookie or the catch in her breath.

I winked at her as I swallowed, watching her lips part and her eyes widen in confusion.

Yeah, I just fucked up...and enjoyed every second.

“It’s phenomenal, thank you. You don’t have to take care of me,” I told her.

“Well, taking care of you is taking care of her,” she finished with a nod of her head toward Lettie.

I moved toward my daughter and caged her between my arms. “I see more chocolate!” I sounded the alarm and attacked the skin of her neck, blowing raspberries.

Her giggles were contagious. “Daddy!”

“Lettie!” I answered and goobered her neck again to hear her laugh.

There was nothing like her laughter. It filled my heart, reminded me that I was human, gave me a strength I’d never known before they’d placed her swaddled little body in my arms.

“You stink!” she said with a giggle.

“That’s the smell of hard work, my Lettie-Lou.” I rubbed noses with her and she giggled again.

“Hard work stinks!”

I laughed, the sound rumbling through our kitchen and echoed by Bailey. “Then I guess I’d better shower,” I told them. One more kiss on her tiny nose and I abandoned my girls for the shower.

My girls.

The thought stopped me cold as I was half-way on the steps.

I paused, my hand gripping the banister almost painfully. I forced air through my lungs one breath at a time until I could relax my hand and push the panic back. Just because this moment felt fucking perfect didn’t mean it would stay that way.

But God, the sound of Lettie’s laughter from the kitchen mixing with the scent of fresh-baked cookies made this house feel more like home than it had in the last eighteen months since I’d bought it.

And I knew it was because of Bailey.

* * *

Y
ou know
what happens when you realize you want the one thing you can’t have?

You fucking crave it.

Day.

Night.

One week of living with Bailey and I was on edge, wavering between basking in the tiny piece of perfection she’d created, and destroying everything just so it wouldn’t hurt so much when she inevitably left.

Add that to the permanent hard-on I was sporting, and I was a miserable prick. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone this long without getting laid. The worst part was that it wasn’t like I couldn’t go out to a random bar, pick up a chick and scratch the itch…

It was that my dick wouldn’t listen to my head. It wanted Bailey and only Bailey, and it let me know that every single time she walked into the room.

“Hey, Gage,” she said as I hung my keys up in the mud room. “How was practice?” She had a laundry basket perched on her hip and a light sheen of sweat clung to her collarbone. Had she been running? Working out?

“Long,” I answered, dropping my bag.

“You ready for the game tomorrow?” She walked past me into the laundry room, her ponytail swishing. She hadn’t so much as looked me in the eye since my lick-the-chocolate-off-your-skin moment last week. Not that I blamed her. I was the king of mixed signals.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted, all of my blood draining from my head to my dick at the sight of her shapely ass in those running pants.

“Good,” she called from the room. “Lettie’s down for a nap. We took a little hike and she got tuckered out.”

“Okay,” I answered, thanking God there was a door between us, even if it was half-open.

“Do you need me to throw anything into the wash?”

“No, but thanks. You don’t have to take care of me,” I told her again, knowing she’d just do it anyway.

“I don’t—” Her voice was muffled as she started the dryer.

“What?” I asked, but her reply was lost in the tumble. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you,” I said as I opened the door to the laundry room.

“I said that it doesn’t bother me to take care of you,” she answered louder, facing the washing machine.

I should have left, but my feet were nailed to the floor and my jaw landed next to them as she peeled her running tank up over the smooth skin of her back and then over her head, leaving her in just a sports bra and those pants.

DamnIwannatastealltheskin.

Great. She’d broken my brain.

She tossed the shirt in the washer and shut the door, the sound bringing me out of the fantasy where I’d already stripped the rest of her clothes off.

Allthewaytonaked.

I shook my head. Fuck my life, even my thoughts were jumbled.

“Right, sorry,” I said. I could not spy on my nanny like a thirteen-year-old with a hard-on.

Because you’re twenty-seven with a hard-on.

Bailey jumped, startled and then laughed. “God, Gage. You scared the crap out of me.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

She turned, leaning against the washer. “You already said that.”

I had to peel my eyes off the bare skin of her stomach. She was toned, but still curved, soft in all the places I ached to get my hands on.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and I finally met her eyes, skipping over the tight press of her breasts against the hot pink sports bra.

“Nothing,” I answered. After all, it shouldn’t matter that she was in workout clothes, right? I saw women every day at the gym with less on than Bailey was wearing right now.

But none of them affect you like this.

“Gage?” she asked, her voice a little breathy. Did she realize what was going on in my head? Her breasts rose and fell a little faster, which told me she knew something was up.