Rm W/a Vu (6 page)

When I realize that Greyston is staring at me as I continue to gape—probably slack-jawed—I try to recover. “Okay, well I can probably stop by the dorm and start bringing some things over a bit at a time… You’re sure it’s not too soon? I’d hate to be an imposition in any way. I mean, if you’re busy…”

“Juliette, relax. It’s fine,” he says with a smile, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up before walking around to the other side of the island counter. After rifling through a drawer, he returns to his seat and holds out his hand, palm up. In it is a small silver house key.

I still can’t believe this is happening. There’s no way I should be able to afford a place like this, but it seems I’ve hit the jackpot—and I’m not just talking about the house.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the key from him. The warmth of his skin causes my breath to hitch and my stomach to flip-flop. I even think my eyes flutter. “So, is there, like, a lease or something you want me to sign?” I ask, trying really hard to control the light waver of excitement in my voice.

Greyston laughs almost nervously, running his hand through his soft-looking hair, and I expel a soft breath. “Actually, I haven’t had time to draw one up. I only just got back into town yesterday, and I was just walking through the front door when you called. Give me a few days?”

“Oh, yeah…sure. I can sign it when I start bringing my things over.” I find myself feeling more and more giddy each and every time I make mention of the fact that I’ll be living here.

“Perfect.”

I can’t agree more.

As we sit here in a brief moment of silence, I start to obsess about just how little I know about the man I just agreed to move in with. While I don’t need to know every little detail about his life up until he opened the door for me, the basics would probably be a good idea. Especially since I’ll have to be able to assure my dad this guy isn’t a psychopath.

“So,” I say, breaking up the quiet in the room, “you said you travel a lot…for work?” Greyston nods, so I continue. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m a sports agent, actually,” he explains with an air of pride lacing his voice. “It’s why I’m out of town so much. I’m often away signing and recruiting new talent.”

My dad is going to love this guy. Possibly more than me…
Wait
…
um…

“That sounds really cool. Have you been doing it long?” Yes, I am aware how the question sounds, but it’s too late to take it back. Maybe he won’t notice. I’m sure it’s just me because my mind has been in the gutter since I first got here, and my mentality is now mirroring that of a twelve-year-old boy.

“About five years now,” he tells me coolly. Apparently it
is
all me.

“Did you always know that’s what you wanted to do with your life?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation rolling because I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing his voice. Yup, I’ve definitely gone crazy. There’s no longer a doubt in my mind. It’s okay, though; I think I can make peace with it.

“Yes and no.” Greyston laughs and takes another drink. “I was pretty into sports in high school, and even went to college on a football scholarship.”

I never much cared for football…until now.

“It was in my senior year of college that I was approached by an agency. It wasn’t to sign me, though.” I half-expect this to be upsetting for him, but he sounds surprisingly happy about it all. “They wanted to recruit me to work
for
them.

“My college team was good…and I mean we were
good.
” I’m not sure why—because normally I would be repulsed—but the cocky tone in Greyston’s voice sends a shiver down my spine. I’m basically fighting the urge to launch myself across the table and straddle his thick, football-playing thighs.

While I inwardly struggle with this, he continues speaking…not that this helps my situation any. “The agency had heard that I’d played a big part in scouting the players, and they thought I’d be an asset. So I looked over what they wanted to offer me, and I couldn’t pass it up,” he finishes explaining. “It’s been pretty great.”

I laugh, absent-mindedly playing with the rim of my empty glass. “You know, I was worried about what my dad was going to think of all of this—my shacking up with a guy I just met…” My eyes snap up to his, widening because I
so
didn’t mean it the way it sounded. “N-not that we’re ‘shacking up’,” I amend.

Thankfully, he doesn’t dwell on that part of what I’ve said. “And you think he’ll be okay with it now? Knowing I’m a ruthless head-hunter for up-and-coming athletic talent?”

I lock eyes with him and lean onto the table. “I don’t think you understand; my dad is insane about sports. Like ‘teenage-girl-obsessed-with-vampires’ insane,” I explain, gaining another deep chuckle from him. Even though this newly-learned information about Greyston might help me soften the blow, I’m not naïve enough to think my father won’t still be initially upset about everything.

“So, I realize that it’s kind of personal, but the more information I can give to my parents, the better my chances are of
not
being put into solitary confinement,” I half-kid. Greyston laughs, but I don’t think he really gets that my dad would probably go to such lengths to keep me safe—not that Greyston is really a threat to my safety.

Getting up, Greyston heads back to the fridge and grabs the pitcher of lemonade, topping up both of our glasses before setting it on the table and sitting again. “Well, my full name is Greyston Evan Masters. I’ll be twenty-eight on January twentieth. My parents, Daniel and Jocelyn, live here in Phoenix. My father is a financial analyst. They live pretty comfortably, so my mom was fortunate enough to get to stay home while I grew up, and we wanted for nothing. Once I went off to college, she took an interest in interior design as a hobby.”

“Any siblings?” I ask.

Greyston shakes his head. “Nope. Like you, I’m an only child.”

Greyston and I talk a little bit more about his upbringing in a small town just south of Phoenix before my phone vibrates in my pocket. I notice the time first and realize I’ve been here for more than two hours. It seems only right that my mom is calling.

“Sorry,” I apologize to Greyston before pointing to the patio door. “Do you mind?”

Greyston winks, and I damn-near fall out of my chair. “Hey, it’s your house now too.”

Yeah, I think I’m about to die and go to Heaven.

Trying to calm my now-thundering heart, I stand up and answer my phone, sliding the door open and stepping out onto the deck. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, baby. How did it go? Did you find the place okay?”

“Yeah, I did. It’s amazing, Mom. You’ll love it.” I look back over my shoulder to see Greyston cleaning off the table. Naturally, my eyes fall back to his ass as he leans over to wipe the wooden surface. I apparently have no sense of morality left. “I’m actually just finishing up, I think. I’ll be on my way home soon, okay?”

I stay outside for a minute after hanging up, looking out toward the desert from the back porch. A breeze picks up, and I inhale the fresh air as the sun peeks out from behind the clouds and warms my face.

“Everything go okay?”

I turn toward the voice and smile when I see Greyston leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah. I didn’t realize how much time had gone by. I’m surprised she didn’t have my dad dispatch a search unit.” Greyston eyes me curiously. “Oh, he’s a cop.”

“Impressive.”

“It kept me from getting into any real trouble as a teenager, I suppose,” I joke, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “I should probably get going, though.”

Backing up into the kitchen and making room for me to pass through the threshold, Greyston nods. “Of course.”

“I’ll call and let you know when I plan to start bringing my things over, if that’s okay?”

Smiling, Greyston walks me to the door. “I look forward to it.”

I let the words repeat over and over in my head, wondering if he’s flirting with me. The idea that he might be is appealing, but the possibility that he’s not is more likely.

“Thanks again for everything, Greyston. It was nice meeting you,” I tell him, holding out my hand for him to shake. Truthfully, I want to hug him, but it’s probably inappropriate—especially since I’m not sure I could control myself enough to eventually let go. Even from a foot away, his scent is intoxicating. I wonder what cologne he wears…

“And you, as well, Juliette.” Before I am able to, Greyston reaches out and opens the door for me. It’s sweet, just like when he pulled my chair out for me in the kitchen. “Feel free to call me if you need anything in the meantime, okay?”

My heart skips a beat, and I can’t seem to stop my smile from widening almost painfully. “Yeah, okay. Um, bye.”

“Bye.”

Walking down the stairs feels weird, almost like it’s not right. Was this what my mom was talking about last week? I laugh at myself as I approach my car because the idea that I could feel this way after only a couple of hours is silly. It’s just not logical. Maybe I feel like this because Greyston has offered me an incredible opportunity, and I’m seeing him as some kind of white knight.

Okay, that just invites a whole new rush of fantasies that are bound to get me in trouble.

Shaking them off, I tell myself that I’m probably just reading too much into it—seeing signs where there are none—but when I see Greyston standing on the porch as I climb into my car, I start to wonder if maybe Mom is onto something. He waves, and I return the gesture, pulling away from the curb and heading for home.

Dad’s cruiser is in its spot next to Mom’s SUV when I arrive. He’s home early, and I feel dread knotting in the pit of my stomach. There’s no way I’ll walk away sane if I have to see them going at it a third time. Even though I don’t actually want to acknowledge that it’s a possibility, I grab my phone and text my mom to let her know I’m right outside.

She responds almost immediately. A good sign, for sure.

Yeah…right. She thinks she’s so funny with that little winky-face.

Knowing that she probably wants to be caught just as much as I want to catch them—which is not at all—I head for the house. I’m happy to see that they’re sitting in the living room, Dad in his recliner and Mom on the end of the couch closest to him.

“Hey, honey,” Dad says as I lean down and kiss his cheek first, then Mom’s. “Your mother tells me you went to look at a place today?”

I take a seat next to Mom, nestling up against her as she wraps her arm around me and hugs me close. “I did. It was beyond perfect…and the price was more than reasonable. I probably won’t even need you guys to help out,” I tell them excitedly.

“Oh?” Mom inquires.

“Yeah, it’s only five hundred a month. For a
house
. It even has a pool…and my room has a balcony that looks out toward the desert. It’s stunning.”

Dad’s inner-cop suddenly shows. “Sounds a little too good to be true, don’t you think?”

What
I
think is he just likes having his baby girl home again. “That’s what I thought, but that’s what the guy said he wanted,” I tell him, shrugging slightly.

Mom squeezes me supportively. “Well, that’s great, sweethear—”

“Wait a minute,” Dad interrupts, his voice low and interrogating. “
He?
”

Shit.

Mom must not have caught it until he repeated my slip-up. Slowly, she loosens her grip and sits up. “You told me this person was a woman,” she says, her eyebrows rising. The look in her eyes is the same one I had seen when I was sixteen and lied about sleeping over at Katie’s house so I could go to a party.

“
Technically
,” I say, going back to our conversation earlier in the day, “you
assumed
the landlord was a female, I just failed to correct you.”

Before she can say anything else, my father launches himself out of his La-Z-Boy and booms, “Absolutely not! It’s out of the question!”

“Dad, he’s a really great g—”

“I don’t care if he’s the King of England; you’re not moving in with some guy you found through a classified ad,” he orders. “I raised you better than that, Juliette.”

I hate when he talks to me like this. There used to be a time when I’d roll over and just submit to whatever he demanded because I knew he loved me and was just looking out for me. But now? Well, I know he still loves me, and that’s where his little outburst is coming from, but I like to think that he’s raised me to be a pretty good judge of character.

“You’re right,” I tell him, forcing him to stop pacing the floor in front of the flat screen and look at me. I stand up so I don’t feel about three inches tall while I try to tell him how I feel. “You raised me to know better than to just move in with a stranger. But, isn’t that essentially what one does in college when they get a new dorm mate? I didn’t know Delilah from Eve, and she wasn’t cra—” I stop myself mid-sentence when my father crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows in challenge. “Okay,” I continue, “bad example.

“My point is, I asked this guy all sorts of probing questions. I think I know more about him than I even knew about Ben, for crying out loud.” My dad still doesn’t look convinced, so I cross over to him and look up into his stern brown eyes. “Daddy,” I say softly, and I can see his resolve beginning to break. “I’m twenty now. A grown up. I need to do this. I don’t know how everything will turn out, but isn’t that kind of the point of life? We wouldn’t learn anything if we knew what was going to happen next.”