Page 44 of Wicked Bite
“I’m just gonna go ask. Calmly and rationally.” I walked over to the coat rack and pulled my jacket off the hook and shoved my arms into the sleeves.
“Right, because the way you’re beating up your coat says calm and rational.” Dice waved to the door. “Go forth and collectith a new set of balls for our mantel.”
I shoved my feet into my boots and yanked open the door. “I’m not collecting his balls.”
Yet.
“Sure. Text me later.” Dice waved to me and slouched back into the chair, burying her nose in her phone.
“I will.” I walked out the door with my head up and shoulders back. I curled my hands into fists, giving myself the bravado I didn’t feel. Maybe I would get to his hotel room, and he’d just overslept, or perhaps some work came up for him.
Right, and he just forgot to send a text that’d take two seconds.
No, don’t be like that. He’s a good guy. He’ll show up. He said he would.
And being late and not saying a damn word about it isn’t a sign.
I was both disappointed in him and myself. So disappointed I didn’t feel the cold or the icy sleet that fell around me. My boots slipped on the sidewalk, but I still wasn’t going to stop. I was only a few blocks from the hotel. I took a smaller back road toward Salem Commons. It wasn’t the direct street, but it would get me there fast enough. The streets were dark and empty, but this was my hometown, and I was used to it. This would be simple. I would just go to the hotel and ask him what’s up. I didn’t want a guy who didn’t want me or got scared after one perfect night. Of that, I was sure. And I was damn good at walking away from that situation. It hurt, but I was good at it.
Any act that said they didn’t want me, and I was gone. One of the rules to live bye. Don’t stay where you’re not wanted.
And if Grayson didn’t want me, then I needed to hear it and move on. Was I being irrational? Probably. Emotional? Absolutely. But I was in too far now. I’d given a piece of myself to Grayson without even meaning to. This wasn’t normal for me, and I wanted, no, I needed some stability to make me feel comfortable with that. And him not showing up wasn’t helping with how vulnerable I’d made myself to him. I steadied myself for it. How could I have been so wrong? How could I have let my guard so far down in so little time? I was angry at myself and him at the same time. I fell for it so fast. It was so normal between us, natural, like breathing.
A lump formed in my throat. NO. This is stupid. I was not going to get upset just yet.
Maybe something did happen.
Who was I kidding? When it came to being abandoned, I knew, women knew when a man wasn’t going to show up. It was intuition at its best, or were they just that predictable? Either way, we knew. But Grayson wasn’t predictable, and yet in my heart I knew this was it. I just had to hear it for myself and know I wasn’t crazy.
Why?
I opened my phone once more and stared down at the screen. I stepped off the curb and into the street. My boot slid on the ice. My arms pinwheeled and my phone slipped from my fingers and went flying into the gutter. I tilted forward then back. My body twisted and I suddenly stopped, catching myself before I faceplanted in the street. I shook my head. Great, just great. That’s all I needed, busting my ass in the middle of the street. I finally got my balance enough to take another step toward the curb.
Tires screeched and a horn blared. My head snapped up and all I saw were blinding headlights . . .
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GRAYSON
“It’s my bloody hour of need and where are you?” My voice rose with aggression as I pressed my cell phone harder to the side of my head.
Sav yawned on the other end of the line. “Where are any of us really? It’s a question I ponder often.”
“Are you taking the piss right now?” I paced back and forth from one end of my hotel room to the other. Even though it was a king suite, with my speed it only took a matter of seconds.
“I’m not taking the bloody piss. However, I do recall forewarning you that this would be a problem. I’ve not got psychic written next to my name and even I could see this coming.” The sound of a crackling fire filled the background and light classical music drifted along with it.
Anger flared through my body. “Are we having a night to ourselves? Am I interrupting with my issues?”
“No need to get yourself in a strop.”
I froze in the middle of the room trying not to crumble the phone in my hand. “I’m not in a strop.”
“And one would perceive that this anger and attitude would indeed classify a strop.”
“You’re a wanker, do you know that?” I turned and headed for the bathroom. Every one of my muscles was rigid with tension.
He gave a dark chuckle. “Yet, you’re the only one with the ballocks to say it to my face.”
