Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I blame it on watching him carry Mimi to bed last night after she fell asleep in the car. It was so sweet, my ovaries were in full meltdown. His big hands so gentle on her tiny body, the smile on his face as he tucked her in, the way he hugged me good night afterwards with a tenderness straight out of wildest dreams?
It was too much.
I’d had no choice but to go straight to my private bathroom, lie down in the bath, and guide the shower head between my legs. I came in seconds, stifling the sound with a fist to my lips as I imagined it was Grammercy’s tongue between my legs instead of the rushing water.
Hell, just thinking about it now is enough to make my nipples tighten, and the new silk panties I bought as a special “you can do scary things” treat damper than they were before.
Maybe I should slip my hand down the front of them and take the edge off really quickly. If not, there’s a decent chance I’ll be humping my fake husband’s leg before we even get into the club.
It’s ridiculous and embarrassing, but this man does things to me.
Horny things…
My phone buzzes on the counter, jerking me out of my steamy thoughts and nearly causing an eyeliner emergency. I suck in a shaky breath and glance down at my cell, pulse spiking again when I see who’s texting.
It’s him, the gorgeous man who’s been living rent-free in my head since the moment he left to do some last-minute “we won our first game” publicity for the Voodoo this afternoon…
Grammercy: Hey there, chère, just wanted to let you know I’m running a little late. The local news spot is taking forever. They keep pushing me for the weather report since that storm is making landfall tomorrow night. But they promised me I’m up next. I’ll still meet you by Old Ursuline. I just might be ten or twenty minutes late, depending on traffic and parking.
Elly: No worries! I’m having trouble getting my eyeliner straight anyway. I’ll plan on leaving a few minutes later.
Grammercy: Perfect! Nancy find the place all right?
Elly: Yeah. No problems at all. Mimi’s already tucked in, and Nancy’s watching a movie on the couch, so everything’s good to go here. Looking forward to some blues. I haven’t been to a club in forever!
Grammercy. Me too! And looking forward to sharing it with you. See you soon, beautiful.
I stare at the word “beautiful” for so long that my vision goes blurry.
A man doesn’t call a woman “beautiful” unless he’s at least a teensy tiny bit interested in banging her against the wall, right? Or on the floor, or in the kitchen, or hell, I guess we could keep it old school and go for a bed.
I would very much enjoy being tangled up in my silky soft sheets with my fake husband until tomorrow morning…
And then I’d wake up, shake off the post coital haze, and realize that I’ve put Mimi’s safety at risk.
Sex complicates things. There’s no two ways around that. And then there’s the chance that Grammercy might turn me down. I’m sure he would do it kindly, gently, the same way he does everything, but I would still be mortified.
That actually might be more mortifying. Having the man of my dreams find it easy to say “thanks, but no thanks, chère,” to my vagina would be a blow to my poose confidence from which I might never recover.
“You would recover,” I tell my reflection in my firmest voice. “Because you’re a strong woman who’s been through way worse and you’re still standing.”
It’s true. I am still standing.
But I’ve also put off recording an episode of my podcast for an entire week. I’m afraid I won’t be able to hide the fact that my crush is becoming so much more. Afraid of what Grammercy will think if he learns I’ve been recording a fangirl podcast from his home. Afraid of this new person I’m becoming in just a week of exposure to a taste of happily ever after.
A fake happily ever after, no less.
None of this is real…except the way Grammercy Graves makes me feel.
And the way he adores my baby. He really seems to see Mimi as an asset, not a liability. He seems proud when he looks at her, like he feels lucky to be one of the grown-ups watching out for this wacky, creative, one-of-a-kind little girl.
I’m proud of her, too.
But I also want her to be proud of me.
Someday, when she’s facing her own scary, adult problems, I want her to look back on the choices she saw her mama make and let them inspire her to be brave. I would never want my daughter to choose caution over authenticity, to live small instead of reaching for her big, beautiful dreams. I would never want her to turn her back on a chance at love because a cold world had convinced her that people “like her” have no choice but to play it safe.