Grayson's Vow (46)
She blinked and then brought her hands to her cheeks as if they were warm. I couldn’t tell in this light whether that was the case though, or not. I had an inkling I was saying all the wrong things, but I had no clue what she wanted from me. “It wouldn’t work. Just trust me.” She turned toward the stone staircase up to the house. I called her name, but she didn’t look back.
I sat back down on the lounge chair, letting out a long, sexually frustrated sigh, trying to figure out what had just happened. I had no idea how to handle my own wife. Women had always come easily to me. Keeping them…well, Vanessa had proven that might be a different matter. But Kira and I had already established our relationship would be temporary, so with her, that wasn’t an issue. I’d never experienced being turned down for sex, though, especially when I focused my charm. I wasn’t being arrogant—it was just the truth. I rubbed at my head. Did I actually know how to seduce an unwilling woman? Maybe not. How ironic that the first woman I’d have to work for was my very own wife.
* * *
“See you on Monday, Charlotte,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her soft cheek. It was Friday morning, and she and Walter were taking a weekend trip to San Francisco to visit friends.
“There are several casseroles in the freezer, with instructions written right on top,” she said. “Oh, and I baked a batch of those citrus butter cookies you like. They’re in tin foil in—”
“Charlotte.” I chuckled. “I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself for the weekend.”
She smiled, shaking her head and pinching my cheek affectionately. “I like taking care of you. Just let me dote. Oh! And please tell Kira I baked her the brown sugar oatmeal cookies she likes. Where is she anyway? I thought she’d come up to the house to say goodbye.”
“We were out late last night. She’s probably sleeping in,” I said, picturing her tangled in her sheets in her little cottage, that glorious hair splayed all—
I set those visions aside.
Charlotte eyed me as if she could read my thoughts. “How are things going with you two now that you’re actually married?” She’d wanted to come with us to the ceremony, but I’d told her absolutely no. At the time, I hadn’t wanted anything that would make the ceremony more awkward than it already was. Charlotte’s presence there would have only served to make us feel more uncomfortable…and make me feel guilty.
I sighed. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say with her. I barely know what she’s going to do from moment to moment, much less what she’s thinking.” Except that she’s resisting me. Was that why I wanted her so badly? The thought was oddly comforting.
“Hmm,” she hummed, looking thoughtful. “Yes, not many match that one for spirit, that’s the truth. Except maybe you.” She winked at me. “I’m glad you two went to dinner last night. It’s a good start.” She smiled, and before I could address that comment or tell her not to get any grand ideas, she continued, “Tell her to have a nice weekend. Oh! And tell her I got her list about the party. What a splendid idea! I’m not sure what the big rush is, or why she was emailing me at two in the morning, but Walter and I will stop in town this morning and order the invitations—I know a place that will print them right away. I still have Jessica’s address label list of who’s who in Napa and can email that to the printer once I’ve had a few minutes to go through it.” Kira had been up in the middle of the night? Why? Had she, too, been unable to sleep after what we’d done on the patio? Had she been tossing and turning, remembering the feel of—
“Tell Kira they’ll go out in the mail Monday,” Charlotte continued, interrupting my thoughts. Thankfully.
“And here, drink your orange juice,” she said, handing me my half-full glass. “There’s a terrible flu going around.” I did as she said, draining the glass just to stop her party talk and incessant nagging. She watched me carefully as I drank it, something almost nervous in her expression. Was she that worried about a flu? When I was done, she took my glass and rinsed it in the sink before I shooed her out of the kitchen, calling goodbye to Walter who was waiting in the foyer with their small suitcase sitting on the floor at his feet.
“Goodbye, sir,” he said, giving his wife a small, affectionate smile as she came toward him, fussing about all the things that were left undone, as if we might perish without her caretaking for the weekend.
I worked until late afternoon that day and then made a trip into town for supplies, returning about five. After a quick shower, I went down to the kitchen to put one of the casseroles in the oven for dinner. I texted Kira to let her know dinner would be ready at six, but an hour later, when she still hadn’t texted me back, I started to get restless. Was she ignoring me? I hadn’t seen her once all day. Was she holed up in that little cottage of hers, avoiding me? Come to think of it, wasn’t she planning on getting started in my office? I went to see if there was any sign she’d been there, but there wasn’t. I puttered around for a little while, but when my frustration levels had risen too much for me to focus on any one thing, I pushed away from my desk and went to grab my phone. I texted Kira again and then waited five minutes, drumming my fingers on the kitchen counter. Nothing. What the hell?
I was striding past the fountain before I even realized I’d left the house. What if she’d taken off for Brazil like I’d mentioned that day in the motel room where she’d been staying? Had she left me? Had what we’d done last night spooked her that much? My blood was pulsing through my veins with something I couldn’t identify—either panic or anger, or perhaps a mixture of both.