On the Rocks, page 15
Vanessa was beautiful. Because of course she was. As she stood there in her white coat and comfy-looking jeans, blond hair curled around her face, and those signature Martini dimples making an appearance, there was no way of denying it. Beautiful and so incredibly sexy that Grace felt her knees go weak for a split second, and she tightened her grip on the doorjamb to keep from collapsing into a ball of arousal on the floor.
“Hey,” Vanessa said, still smiling, and handed over a bottle of wine. “For you.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Grace said and stepped aside. “Come in. You smell amazing.” Okay, so that last line slipped out, but she did. Like cinnamon and nutmeg and warm invitation. Vanessa turned and her smile got bigger.
“Yeah? Well, thank you.” And she leaned in and gave Grace a quick kiss on the lips before Grace even realized it was happening. Then she stepped out of her shoes and let her coat slide down her arms to reveal a waffle-weave Henley in blue-and-lavender stripes. The shirt was casual and clung to Vanessa’s torso like it had been tailored to do so, tapering in around her waist and showcasing what Grace was now mentally admitting was an incredible pair of breasts. She flexed her fingers again and consciously pulled her eyes away. “This is super cute,” Vanessa said as she slowly wandered into the main living area. Her voice yanked Grace out of her dream state and nudged her into action.
“Thanks. It’s very small, but it’s home. For now.” She held up the bottle. “Shall I open?”
“Sure.” Vanessa was now looking at the same framed photos Grace had been enjoying a few minutes before. “For now? Are you moving?”
The kitchen wasn’t far from the living room, but there was a wall between them now, so Grace raised her voice a bit as she uncorked the wine. “Oh no, not right now. But I don’t want to live in somebody else’s house forever. I’d like to be able to buy something of my own in the near future. Something with a bigger yard for Oliver.” She poured two glasses and returned to the living room, then indicated the couch. “Sit?”
Vanessa took the glass with a nod and they sat.
It was quiet.
They glanced at each other. And suddenly, they were both laughing.
“Okay, we’re ridiculous,” Vanessa said.
Grace nodded. “We really are.”
Their laughter died down in tandem, but they kept their eyes on each other. It was Vanessa who finally admitted, “I’m really nervous.”
“Me, too, but I don’t know why.”
And they laughed some more.
“Okay,” Vanessa said through tears of laughter. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” She held up a hand and her eyebrows rose. “We’re gonna breathe in…” They both did, together, big breaths that filled their lungs. “And exhale.” They did it again as one, simply breathed together. Then two, three, four times until it was clear to Grace that they both felt better.
“And now a toast,” Grace said and held up her glass. Vanessa followed suit. “To gratitude, turkey soup, and possibility.”
Vanessa’s eyes went comically wide, and her tone was one of anticipatory excitement. “Get out, are we having turkey soup?”
“We are having turkey soup.”
“I may never leave.”
“I’m okay with that.”
There was a beat of held gazes, and Grace marveled at how she could actually feel Vanessa’s eyes on her, right down to her—
“Cheers.” Vanessa interrupted her naughty thoughts and touched her glass to Grace’s. “I’m really glad you invited me.”
“I’m really glad you came.” Another moment of silently held gazes. It was weird how not uncomfortable Grace was looking in those blue eyes. Having them see her. Finally, she asked softly, “Hungry?”
“You’d think after how much I ate yesterday, I wouldn’t be hungry for the next week, but how can one know there’s turkey soup in the very next room and not want some?”
“I think we should eat it.” Grace stood up and held out a hand. Vanessa grabbed it, and Grace felt the touch as if Vanessa was electrified and sent a tiny zap up Grace’s arm, into her chest, and again, straight down. “Come with me.”
The duplex had no formal dining room, only a small round table off to the side of the kitchen. Grace had laid it tastefully, though, opting for the nice stoneware bowls instead of the plastic ones she and Oliver usually used for soup. The napkins were linen, the salad was in a glass bowl, and all the silverware matched. She indicated a chair for Vanessa to sit, so she could serve up the soup, but instead, Vanessa set down her wine and looked past Grace to the counter, lifted her nose in the air, and sniffed.
“Oh my God, did you bake bread?”
Grace nodded, her smile blossoming at all of Vanessa’s surprise. “I did. Just came out of the oven a few minutes ago. It’s one of my favorite things to make.”
“It’s one of my favorite things to eat.”
“Well, look at that.” Grace grinned, slid a bread knife out of the block, and handed it to her. “Slice it up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They worked in tandem in the small kitchen like the perfect team. Like they’d been doing so for years in the tiny space, shoulder to shoulder, chatting about what they’d each been doing in the few hours since they’d seen each other last. It was shocking to Grace, the ease. It felt normal. It felt perfect.
It scared the hell out of her.
Once they’d finally sat down to eat, Grace felt a little more at ease. Was it because there was a table between them now, and she wasn’t caught in the weird sexual pull that Vanessa seemed to have?
“This is amazing,” Vanessa said after she’d eaten several spoonfuls of soup. “Wow.”
“Thank you.” Grace grinned. Soup was crazy easy to make, but the compliment coming from Vanessa warmed her up from the inside, pleased her in a way she couldn’t quite define.
“When does Oliver come home?” Vanessa asked as Rudy made his way into the kitchen and wound around her feet. “I bet he misses his cat.”
“He does. He wanted to take Rudy with him and had a meltdown when I told him he couldn’t.” She remembered how mad Oliver had been at her. “Michael is allergic, but it’s somehow my fault that he couldn’t take the cat.” She shook her head, took a sip of her wine. “You think I’d be used to that by now.”
“Used to what?”
“Being the bad guy.” She caught those blue eyes with her own across the table. “Did you have that when your parents split?”
“What do you mean?” Vanessa tipped her head to the side, and her eyes suddenly became guarded.
Grace studied her. This was clearly a sensitive subject for Vanessa, and though she really wanted to delve in, she wondered if maybe it was too soon. Maybe she needed it to happen a bit more organically. Not to mention, they were having such a nice time, she didn’t want to ruin it. “You know what? Never mind.” She waved a hand across the air in front of her. “Let’s just eat and enjoy ourselves.” Was that relief that zipped across Vanessa’s face?
They spent the rest of dinner talking about their jobs. How Vanessa had wanted to be a teacher since she was a little kid. How Grace had a business degree but decided to stay home with Oliver when he was a baby instead of keeping her job at a large container manufacturer.
“I’d still really like to have my own business one day, but it’s been on such a back burner for so long that it’s kind of faded away a bit.” Grace was rinsing dishes to go into the tiny dishwasher after Vanessa had been ordered to sit at the table and talk to her when she offered to help clean up. “Sometimes, life happens, and you get a curveball instead of what you were expecting and…” She shrugged.
“You should talk to my cousin Amelia. She knows all about that. She was with Tammy for years, had plans, took early retirement so they could spend time together. Little did she know, Tammy had other plans and wanted out of the marriage.”
Grace felt her heart squeeze. “Oh no. That’s awful.” She indicated the coffee maker and raised her eyebrows in question.
Vanessa nodded her blond head. “A little cream, please.”
Grace set the coffee to brewing. She could clearly see how much Vanessa cared about Amelia as she continued the story.
“It was rough on her. Still is. She’s always saying how she has no desire to ever date again. Which I think will change, but for now, we let her wallow. My point, though, is that she’s started her own business taking care of dogs. She walks them for people who have busy day jobs and work long hours. She will dog sit at somebody’s house. That kind of thing.” She shrugged. “I mean, it’s a small business in the very early stages, but it’s something she never expected to be doing, and she’s put her heart into it. You could, too.”
“I could, you’re right.” Grace finished wiping her hands and hung up the damp dish towel. Picking up two mugs of coffee, she indicated with a head tilt that Vanessa should follow her into the living room. Once settled on the couch, she admitted, “I didn’t really give you the option not to watch It’s a Wonderful Life earlier, but we don’t have to.”
“Here’s something you don’t know about me,” Vanessa said, turning her body so one knee was up on the couch and she faced Grace. “I hate black-and-white movies. My mother won’t even talk to me about it. Amelia calls me a movie boor.”
“No worries then,” Grace said, setting down the remote and doing her best to mask her disappointment. Vanessa’s warm hand closed over her arm.
“You didn’t let me finish.” Those summer-sky eyes seemed to dance. “I hate black-and-white movies…except for It’s a Wonderful Life. Which is amazing. The buildup. The background. The message. And have you seen Donna Reed? Wow.”
“I mean, right?” They laughed together and Vanessa fanned herself with her hand. “Well, I have to say that while it would’ve been perfectly fine for you not to like old movies, and I was rethinking this whole thing because of it, you get bonus points for watching this one with me.”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
That held gaze thing happened again right then. It was something they seemed to excel at, and Grace liked how she felt it all the way to her center. Like it was awakening feelings that had been dormant for far too long. She cleared her throat, forced herself to look at the remote, and turned on the movie, which was already fifteen minutes in.
So much washed through Grace over the next half hour as they watched. She’d seen the film dozens of times and she loved it every time, but what she loved more was watching somebody else watch it. Especially Vanessa, she realized. She might play the tough teacher, hardened against pain-in-the-ass parents, but her face now was soft. When Mr. Gower smacked George in his bad ear, Vanessa’s eyes welled up. Big points right there. Big ones. During the commercial breaks, they talked, once about a commercial that made Vanessa well up again.
“Wow, I had no idea Oliver’s teacher was such a sap.”
“Shut up,” Vanessa said but laughed and bumped against her to show she was playing. “Don’t let that get around.”
Grace held her hands up in surrender. “My lips are sealed. Your reputation with parents as a hard-ass shall remain intact.” She lowered her voice. “Though now I know better.”
“Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain,” Vanessa said with a laugh.
Grace laughed with her and then got quiet. Serious. “I like the woman behind the curtain,” she said softly. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t said it, gave herself a shake, and toed off her shoes, pressing her fingertips into her foot and trying to focus on something other than Vanessa’s eyes on her.
“Your foot hurts?” Vanessa asked.
Grace grimaced. “I’m afraid I’m not used to walking the way you are. Plus, I could use some new boots.”
Vanessa patted her thigh. “Here. Gimme.” When Grace looked up at her, she was wiggling her fingers in a come-here gesture. “Gimme,” she said again.
Grace grinned, turned her body so she sat against the arm of the couch, and put her socked feet in Vanessa’s lap just as the movie came back on. Vanessa pulled one sock off, then the other and began what would go down in Grace’s life history as the first time somebody turned her the hell on just by rubbing her feet. Vanessa alternated between pressing her fingers into different spots on her soles, massaging the sore spots into submission, and scratching lightly along her ankles. Some people might’ve been annoyed by that, tickled irritatingly, but not Grace. She loved to have her feet rubbed, and Michael would never do it. Of course, she’d had no idea a foot rub and wanting to rip somebody’s clothes off were as closely related as they seemed to be with her. She could feel herself subtly grinding her ass into the couch cushion, trying not to be obvious about what Vanessa was doing to her. But the moment blue eyes turned and captured her gaze, Grace knew her arousal must’ve been clearly written on her face. And that Vanessa had read that arousal with no problem. A moment passed, the air nearly crackling with the electricity that sizzled between them.
Vanessa reached for her, grabbed the front of her shirt in her fist, and pulled Grace’s face to hers.
The kiss was not gentle.
It was hard. Demanding. Exhilarating. Arousal whooshed through Grace’s body like a wave, setting her blood on fire, and she grasped at Vanessa, not even sure what she was reaching for. Just…more.
When was the last time somebody had kissed her like this? Like they wanted her. Like they wanted her. Like there was nothing else in the world they were thinking about. Just her. Only her. How long had it been? Two years? Five? God, all she wanted to do was lose herself completely. In Vanessa’s arms, in her mouth, in her touch, in the joy of being as wanted as much as you wanted that person back.
Thank freaking God she hadn’t lost herself in Vanessa completely at that point, or she wouldn’t have heard the key in the lock or the front door pushing open or the stomping of feet in the foyer.
Vanessa registered the noise, too, her eyes shooting open wide as she quickly pushed herself off Grace and sat up, just as, “Mom!” was called out, and suddenly, there was Oliver.
He slid out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stopped and said, “Oh, hey, Ms. Martini, what are you doing here?”
Vanessa looked to Grace, still wide-eyed, and swallowed audibly as Michael came into the room and looked a lot like he wanted to ask the same question. Grace cleared her throat and fought the nearly overwhelming urge to run her hand across her lips, because how much of a dead giveaway would that be?
Standing up quickly, she thanked every god above that she and Vanessa hadn’t gotten any farther than kissing, and she didn’t have the telltale unbuttoned shirt or—holy hell—unfastened jeans. Putting on the immediate smile that moms had, the one that said Don’t worry, everything is just fine even if it wasn’t quite, she clapped once and reached her arms out to him. “Well, what are you doing here?” she asked her son, then glanced up at Michael.
“Where’s Rudy?” Oliver asked instead and ran off and up the stairs to find his cat, leaving Grace standing there, arms out, hugless.
She dropped her arms, stood up, and looked at her ex-husband. “What’s going on? You were supposed to have him until Sunday.” Trying not to sound annoyed and exasperated was hard, since she felt both of things in a major way.
Michael was still looking at Vanessa, and it was clear he had a million questions, probably more assumptions, but also knew he didn’t have a right to voice most of them. “He was complaining so much about missing the damn cat. I finally asked him if he wanted to just come home, and he said yes. What was I supposed to do?”
She sighed quietly, hyperaware that Oliver was upstairs and that sound carried in the small house. She never wanted her son to feel she didn’t want him. Ever. And she was wildly frustrated that Michael didn’t seem to have that same attitude. “You could’ve told him he’d see the cat on Sunday. That his mom is taking good care of Rudy and he’s fine. That his daddy wants to spend time with him and would be really sad if he wanted to leave early.”
Michael made that face. The face he always made when he knew she was right but was also totally over her telling him he was wrong. The face that said both Here we go again and I don’t have to listen to this. He waved his hand dismissively with a scoff, then turned on his heel to head back to the door, Grace right behind him. Hand on the knob, he pulled the door open, then looked back and gestured vaguely toward the living room.
“And really, Grace? His teacher?” He shook his head, clearly disgusted by her decisions. “Nice.” Then he was through the door, it shut behind him, and the house was silent except for Oliver’s small voice, talking animatedly to his cat upstairs. Grace let her chin drop to her chest and exhaled quietly.
Back in the living room, Vanessa was on her feet, straightening her clothes, looking just this side of mortified. Because how could she not be, right?
“Well, that was fun and not at all awkward,” Vanessa said, and while it seemed she tried to make it sound light, she clearly didn’t feel it. Grace could tell by the way Vanessa shifted her eyes, wouldn’t look right at her.
“I’m so sorry.” Grace held her hands out. “He wasn’t supposed to be home until—”
“Sunday. Yeah, I heard.”
“I’m so sorry,” Grace said again because what else could she say? She stood there, at a total loss, and dropped her arms to her sides. Shook her head.
“Look, I need to go anyway. I have Delilah at home.” She made eye contact with Grace for the first time since Michael had arrived, and her expression softened just a touch. She reached out and squeezed Grace’s upper arm, rubbed up and down. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”
All Grace could do was nod. She walked Vanessa the three steps to the door and watched her make her way to her car. She lifted her hand in a half-hearted wave as Vanessa pulled away from the curb, then brought her fingertips to her still-burning lips, and her brain hit her with a flashback. It was intense. Sexy. Hot as hell. And as she stood there, simmering in her own arousal, she wondered what would happen next. What Vanessa was thinking. And mostly, when could they do that again?
