Perfectly Imperfect (Perfectly #1) (2 page)

“Thanks, Kyle.” I smile shyly at him, and we make our way to the dance floor, martinis in hand.

Steph and I met Kyle when we started frequenting
Luxe
a year ago. I personally think he’s got a thing for Steph, but she won’t hear of it. He’s definitely hot; muscular, tall, structured face with sandy hair and green eyes. Who wouldn’t want to date a hot bartender? Plus, he’s the sweetest guy I know. After a few months of coming into
Luxe
and getting to know him, we all became friends outside the bar, too. He’s never made a pass on Steph, which is why I think she ignores what I tell her, but he’s just shy. I’m sure he doesn’t want to ruin a good friendship.

We begin dancing to the beat of the music enjoying our drinks and ourselves. We get another round of martinis and explore our options for the evening dancing with different guys around us. Steph signals her empty glass and I nod. I hand her my martini glass, and she goes to get us another round of drinks. I continue dancing, moving in perfect harmony to the changing beats.

I feel someone dancing up on me. I turn around to get a glimpse of the face whose hips are rubbing on my backside, and I am totally caught off guard when I stare into a pair of beautiful blue-green eyes full of passion and desire. They are such an interesting color, perfect balance between blue and green, like a peaceful ocean. I can work with this. I am already passed my point of no return from my earlier drinks at happy hour and the martinis I’ve been drinking and feeling extra confident. I dance on him, so close that I can feel him everywhere. He pulls his hands around my waist and keeps me close to him.

“Hey,” I yell over the music.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“I’m Mia. Nice to meet you...”

“Grayson.”

I put my arms around him mimicking his moves, and we’re dancing closely in the crowded club. I am definitely feeling those martinis with each turn and grind I feel from him. He knows his way around the dance floor and doesn’t skip a beat keeping me up to speed with him. I can usually hold up my own, but after my drinks and spellbound feeling I felt looking into his eyes, I am struggling to keep my feet from betraying me. Boy is he beautiful. He has got the most amazing, devilish smile and expressive eyes I have ever seen. I can’t tell if it’s desire or pure mock for my lack of breath with his dancing. His eyes change throughout our interaction from blue to green, dancing with desire maybe?

They are highlighted even more by his copper, layered, messy hair. He’s strong. I feel his muscles under his blue shirt and grin slyly. His jaw is angled perfectly, like a model. Actually, he’s hotter than the models we work with in Rave Magazine. He’s tall, over six feet. I need to tilt my head back a bit to look at him.

Between the music and the dancing I need some fresh air. “I’ll be right back,” I tell him.

“Are you okay?” I hear a hint of honest concern in his voice.

“Yes, just need some fresh air outside.” He nods in understanding and lets go of my grasp. I stumble my way through the crowd towards the door to take a deep breath of fresh air. I make it through and am found with relief to be outside in the cool air breathing normally.
Whoa,
that was intense. Grayson is his name right? I thought I heard a bit of a southern drawl in his voice, but maybe it was the loud music. I must admit I would not mind a hot cowboy making his way to me. You know what they say,
save a horse, ride a cowboy.
Oh, I intend to do just that.

I am deep in thought when I feel intense eyes burning into my side. I turn around and am startled as I see Grayson looking at me; concern and desire mixed in together.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says inching closer to me. I can feel this inexplicable electricity pulling us together.

“Oh, I am more than okay.” I smile.

“Good. I didn’t want you running off on me before I was done with you.” There’s promise in that statement, and I squirm involuntarily under his gaze. Damn, he’s hot. “Ready to go back inside?”

“Yes.” I say, breathlessly. What the hell is wrong with me?
Keep it together, Mia!

We make our way back into the club and head straight to the bar to order another round. What’s one more martini anyway? I could use some refreshment from this intense encounter.

I feel strangely comfortable with him, like I’ve met him before, yet at the same time shy- a feeling I’m not all too familiar with. Honestly, I’m not ready to leave him yet, and worry overwhelms me. I have never felt this way before. He’s intoxicating me. There is some kind of pull between us, not letting me cut the grasp he has on me.

We continue dancing the rest of the night. By 3:00 am I am feeling those martinis way more than I want to admit, and I cannot keep dancing straight. I need to keep it together before I lose my chance to ride my cowboy, but I slowly feel myself slipping and surrendering to the alcohol.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks me. “You look really tired and, quite frankly, you can barely stand on your own two feet.”

“Yes. Let’s go to my place.” I skim the area for Steph to let her know I’m leaving. I find her and we make eye contact. I give her a nod towards Grayson, and she nods in understanding.

I can tell the curiosity is eating at her about who this mysterious man is. He doesn’t look like my typical conquests. No, there’s definitely something different about him. He stands out here in one of Portland’s best clubs, tall and well built with his blue button down shirt, well fitted accentuating his muscles, his dark jeans with brown cowboy boots.

We head out of
Luxe,
and he leads the way to his car. The cool, fresh air is welcoming after the heat and crowd from the club inside. He opens the door for me, and I slip into the car. He climbs in a few seconds later and we’re off.

We arrive at my apartment, and I am filled with desire for this stranger. I am feeling braver, more aggressive. I turn to gaze at him, and I grab his head in my hands and pull him into me, kissing him, exploring his mouth with my tongue, and he mine. We work each other up in perfect unison. I lead him to my room without letting go, opening and closing the door behind us. I push him up against it, head swirling and dizzy. He stops me and says, “As much as I would love to continue this, I don’t think it would be very honorable of me to do so under your state of inebriation.” Wow is that accent hot. Who would’ve thought?

“Don’t worry about being a gentleman. I am not looking for one, although a hot cowboy I wouldn’t mind. You know what they say, save a horse ride a cowboy.”  He looks at me surprised
.
Did I just say that out loud
?
So much for keeping my mouth shut from any stupid comments. Oh, God. I flush red. What’s wrong with me? I am always so on top of my game, cool, calm, and flirtatious, not saying inappropriate statements.

He laughs at my comment, shaking his head. “Can I use your restroom?” Is he trying to divert the conversation from my stupidity or does he really need to use it.

I nod and point the way. “Down the hall to the right.”

I sit in my bed waiting for him, suddenly flooded with sleepiness and intoxication. I lay down to wait for him, and slowly feel myself drifting to sleep. I barely hear the door open, but I can’t make myself open my eyes. I hear some shuffling around the room, and before I know it I’m asleep. My last thought swirling in my head is that I have lost the chance to be with Grayson. 

Chapter 2

I wake up the next morning confused and hungover. What happened last night? We were at
Luxe
… martinis… dancing… strong arms… southern accent… Grayson!
Crap!
Did I sleep with him? I mean, I wouldn’t have minded getting my hands on him, but not if I was so drunk I couldn’t even piece the night together. That would be one fuck I would want to remember.

I look around my room and see no sign giving anything away. I am in my underwear and nothing else. How did I get my clothes off?  I can’t remember. Maybe I did sleep with him. How did he leave? Crap, is my front door open?

I stumble out of bed and throw on a t-shirt. I look in the mirror, my hair all tangled in wavy locks, eyes big and bright blue staring at me wildly confused. I make my way out of my room into the kitchen to make coffee. That will help bring back memories of last night and cure my hangover. Coffee solves everything.

I freeze at the entrance of my kitchen, shell-shocked.

“Good morning. I was just fixin’ some coffee. I thought you might like some.” There’s that irresistible accent again. Who would’ve thought that accent would be so enticing. I just stare, mouth dropped open, my confusion deepening. He looks at me amused. “You weren’t this shy last night.” He mocks me. Holy hell, what
did
happen last night?

I recover from my state of shock. “What happened last night?” is all I can manage to say in a whisper.

“Well, we met, danced all night, quite flawlessly together,” he pauses, a look of uneasiness in his eyes, those beautiful eyes, and quickly composes himself and continues, “You got quite drunk so I brought you home.”

“Did we sleep together?”

“No, not that you weren’t eager to, but I didn’t think it would be very honorable of me to take advantage of your state.”

“Oh,” is all I say. I do remember him saying that last night. Did I tell him I wasn’t looking for a gentleman? I flush and place my head in my hands utterly embarrassed.

He smirks at me like if he could read my thoughts. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” I sit as he hands me a coffee mug, cream and sugar. I take it and sink into a chair at my dining table.

“Thank you for the coffee. You really didn’t have to make it, or stay the night for that matter.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says seeming uncomfortable with his response.

“Why?” I ask him, confused.

“Well, you were pretty wasted last night. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t run off in the middle of the night or something.” He is mocking me.

“No need to worry about that. I am a sound sleeper.”

“I noticed,” and with that comment I freeze. Did he sleep on my bed? I don’t do sleepovers. There’s no need to cuddle and talk about our emotions.

“Where did you sleep?” I blurt out rudely. I blush, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but I need to know. Thinking of him in my bed, all kinds of emotions rush through me; anger, frustration, lust, and some kind of weird connection with this stranger. I felt that unexpected pull last night, too.

I was panicked this morning at the thought of losing my chance with my southern cowboy, and here he is making me coffee in the morning and we didn’t even have sex. But I don’t do the taken care of bit. I take perfectly good care of myself, always have. True, I probably would’ve struggled to get home last night had it not been for him, but cabs are always available and Steph was still there when we left.

He looks a little hurt at my comment, and I quickly try to fix it. I didn’t mean to hurt him. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble of staying the night. Or driving me home for that matter. I could’ve gotten home myself.” Why was I feeling so guilty for expressing myself?

“No trouble at all. It was my pleasure. Plus, I do not see how you would’ve made it home in your state.”

“Steph, or a cab.”

“Steph seemed to be a little busy herself, and cabs are not safe for a beautiful girl like you so late in the night and under the influence.” He states frankly. “And I slept on your bed. I hope that’s not a problem. The couch looked a little small for me.”

“Oh, okay,” is all I could manage to say. We sit in silence for a long time. Staring at each other. Surprisingly, it is comforting. I need to break this spell. Maybe it is just pent up desire.

I take advantage of this time to analyze him. Those blue-green eyes are staring at me not breaking contact. They’re beautiful, unique. I remember staring into them last night and feeling lost in them. His hair is longer, layered and messy. It has a brilliant copper color that brightens his face. His face is perfectly sculpted; square jaw, light stubble tracing his jaw lines and chin, straight nose, and full lips. His skin is tanned beautifully, like if he spent a lot of time outdoors.

He is strong. I remember feeling his muscles under his shirt last night as we danced. He has his sleeves rolled up, and I can peek at his forearms where my assumption is proven right. They are definitely cut. Damn, if those are his forearms, imagine the rest of him. I’m mesmerized. He is beautiful in a rugged way. His hands are big and gripping around the coffee mug hugging it tightly. He seems at ease, confident.

After what seems like forever, the tension growing between us with unspoken desire, he says, “I’m glad you’re okay. I wouldn’t want a beautiful girl getting hurt under my supervision.”

“Well, thank you, honestly, but I don’t do this. I don’t do sleepovers.” I state pointedly. 

“I’d hardly call this a sleepover, Mia. Plus, my kind of sleepovers include less sleeping.” He gives me that devilish smile; same as last night, and my heart begins to race. Surprised by his honesty, I am speechless. Well, isn’t that what I want; amazing sex with this gorgeous man. The desire within me is burning, flooding my core, but for some reason, looking into his eyes, I see more than a pretty face. 

Shit!
What is happening to me? Maybe I’m still drunk from last night and that is why I have all these weird emotions surfacing.

“Well, thank you, but I actually have a lot to do today and should get started on my day.” I say expecting him to get up and leave.

“Are you kicking me out?” He asks surprised.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s a first. I was hoping to get to know you better. Understand why you don’t do sleepovers. I would love to have one with you,” he winks at me, and my heart races even faster, knowing very well he’s not talking about sleeping.

“Yeah, sorry. I just don’t, nor do I need to talk about my reasons why. Although, I wouldn’t mind the non-sleeping part of that arrangement.” I smile at him and wink- his turn to be shocked. Yes, I just told you I wanted to screw you.

He clears his throat. “Well, we’ll have to see about that. How about I take you to dinner tonight, and we’ll see if that part of the arrangement can be met to your expectations.”

“Um…” I hesitate. “I-I don’t date,” I stutter, “but I’d be more than happy to be the judge of my expectations. You can always swing on by, since you made yourself so comfortable already in my home.” I motion to our coffee cups.

He looks genuinely surprised, and even a little hurt at my rejection for dinner. I don’t do dates, I don’t do romance. He’s got to know that from the beginning. If he wants to date, I’m not the girl for him.

I stare at him from across the table my eyes small, guarded. He gives me a knowing look. Almost like he understands my unspoken words. Is this a mistake? Maybe I should just tell him no to everything. After all, I was confused earlier about that pull between us. No need to complicate my life, but I also know that mistake or not there is no turning back. I was lost in him since the first time I looked into his eyes last night.

He smiles at a private thought passing through his mind and nods his head. “Tonight, then. No dinner, straight to dessert.”

I just nod, unsure what to say to that comment, rendered speechless again. What is it about this mysterious stranger?
At any other time I would’ve shot back with a smartass comment involving sex and some dessert mixed together, a hot mess. I just wanted to have a good time last night, find some release after the stress and excitement of the interview.

He brings about all sorts of insecurities I wasn’t aware I even had. I have never been one to be left flabbergasted. I’m always ready with a smart comment to reciprocate. It’s like around him I am a ball of nerves and self-doubt, and I’ve just met him. Hell, I am alwa
ys confident and secure. What is it about him that arouses these emotions?

I notice I’m biting my lip and let go quickly. He chuckles and shakes his head. He stands up, takes the coffee mug to the kitchen sink, and says, “’Til tonight then. I look forward to it, Mia.” With that, he turns and walks out the kitchen through the living room and opens the door. I follow quietly behind him to see him out.

He looks at me seriously; his eyebrows furrowed and opens the door. He leans down and gives me a small peck on the lips before walking out and closing the door behind him. My eyes are wide and confused, I exhale the breath I’ve been holding and lean against the door. My heart is racing. My legs feel weak and my breath has quickened.

Unable to process my feelings, I head to my room, change into leggings, a racer back tank top, and my sneakers. I put on my running pouch with my wallet, connect my earphones to my phone, and head out the door for a run. There’s nothing some good music and a nice run can’t clear.

I head east and run through towards the marina. I love watching the boats floating in the river, peaceful and oblivious to the hectic life of the city. As I get close to the river I make a left and run north up the Waterfront Park trail, enjoying the serenity of the river and the mountains in the distance.

I crave being outdoors, breathing fresh air and feeling one with the earth. It’s a beautiful clear day. I quickly forget my previous concerns and worries. I continue running through the trail taking in the beautiful cherry blossoms in full bloom now. They fan across the trail, branches reaching out caressing the sky with pink immaculate flowers. We wait all winter for this moment, where we can enjoy the simple beauty of the cherry blossoms.

I admire the families sitting under the trees and the young children running around freely. I even smile at a young couple walking hand in hand.
What the hell?!
It was just yesterday that Steph was scolding me once more for my hateful reaction to a couple sitting at a bench in downtown.

Okay, I need to get myself under control. The thought of Grayson and the unexpected feelings overwhelm me once more and I pick up speed. I race through Waterfront Park and pass through the Saturday Market, in full swing at this time of the morning. I head west down Burnside Street to one of my favorite spots in this city, Powell’s Books.

I enter the bookstore, exhausted from my run, and welcome the cool air condition. I begin to wander, losing myself in the aisles of books and different themes. This is my escape from reality, reading books and connecting with the characters, emerging myself in their stories, forgetting mine for a little while.

After finding three books to buy, and a journal for me to begin documenting my interviews and article ideas, I pay at the register and head out.

I’m not ready to go home and sulk yet. I check the time on my phone and see a text from an unknown number. I open it up and read it,
It was great meeting you. I look forward to dessert tonight. ;)

My mouth drops open. I must look like a deer in headlights. How the hell did he get my number? Did I give it to him? My overwhelming emotions from earlier drown me
, and I am frozen in place in the middle of the side walk in front of Powell’s Books. I’m not sure how long I stand there. A skate boarder who almost crashes into me startles me, and I quickly jump out of the way. I come back to reality. I can’t reply to his message right now.

I open my contacts and call Steph. “Hey Mia,” she answers after the second ring. I sigh, it’s so welcoming to hear her familiar voice.

“What’s up, Steph. Are you home?”

“Yeah, how are you? You sound stressed is everything okay? What happened with that guy you met yesterday?”

“Do you want to meet for lunch?” I ask ignoring her questions. I know I am going to have to answer her questions soon.

“Sure. Where are you?”

“In front of Powell’s. Want to meet at Lotus Brewery?”

“Perfect. See you there in 15.”

I hang up and begin to wander down the street heading towards the brewery in Pearl District. This is our usual place. I’m not far so I arrive before Steph and grab a booth. I order a beer and wait for her to arrive.

I’m sitting at the booth, my hands curling over my beer, deep in thought about the events of last night, this morning, and the text Grayson sent me. He’s coming over tonight to have sex. I put my face in my hands embarrassed and shake my head. I can’t believe I told him I wanted to screw him. Then rejected his dinner date, and told him to just come straight over. Am I that cheap? Talk about declining my self-worth.

“Whoa! Rough night?” Steph distracts me from my deep thoughts.

“Hey, you can say that. What’s up?” I say with little emotion.