Page 33 of If My Wishes Came True
I bite my lip, tempted to ask about his relationship with my famous friend. I never told Dex about my conversation with Grady at the party, but I guess I didn’t need to. When we were on our way back to his place that night, I remember Dex saying something along the lines of, “I know we’re not committed, and it’s none of my business who you date, but trust me—you can do a lot better than Grady Brooks.”
At least I think that’s what he said. I was pretty tipsy. Regardless, I didn’t ask Dex to elaborate, because it was obvious to me, even from our limited interaction, that Grady was no gentleman.
But now I know Grady had a drinking problem. I wonder if that also explains the bad blood between him and Dex. Although I’m curious, I decide against bringing up the rivalry between them. It probably makes more sense for me to call Dex later and ask him. At least I know he’ll be honest, because he isn’t trying to get in my pants.
I’m not sure I can say the same about Grady.
It’s no secret he’s attracted to me. I’m sure many women would kill to be in my shoes right now. To havetheGrady Brooks standing less than a foot away, gazing at them longingly.
But it only makes me long for Charlie, and the warmth and safety of his arms around me. I miss him.
“So, whaddya say?” Grady asks. “Want to check out that guest room, and tell me what you think?”
“I can take a look.” No harm in that, I guess.
He leads me down two very long hallways, and I admire the beautiful artwork on the walls as we walk. Whoever the last designer was, I have to admit she did an amazing job. Too bad she wasn’t trustworthy.
The room is pretty bare, with only a bed, nightstand, and dresser. I ask Grady to show me the four other guest rooms for comparison, and he does.
“I’m guessing you want to maintain a similar aesthetic for the final room?” I ask him afterward, as we walk back into the living space.
He stops and turns to me. “I want you to do what you do. You know—that process you talked about in the video. I want you to get to know me.”
I laugh, raising my eyebrows. “I see.”
“Come back for dinner tonight,” he says. “We’ll have a nice meal, you can ask me your questions, and we’ll call it a day. Like I told you, Jenna, I’ve changed. I’m not trying to sleep with you, I promise. Unlessyouwanted to, of course?—”
“I don’t,” I say decisively.
“Understood,” he replies with the kind of amused grin that tells me it’s no skin off his back if I don’t have sex with him. He’s Grady Brooks, he’s obviously not short on options.
“So, why dinner? We could sit and chat now, and I could have a proposal for you by the end of the day.”
He shrugs. “Everyone’s gotta eat, right? Besides, I’m a goodcook. Before I made it big, I was a sous-chef in Manhattan, at Le Bernardin.”
“Impressive,” I say, despite myself.
“See, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jenna. I’m aware that the media makes me out to be this complete asshole, but that’s just branding. It’s the image my publicists decided on a decade ago, to differentiate me from your friend, Dex. It’s all Hollywood bullshit.”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow again.
“Give me one chance to make a better first impression than I did in LA,” he says. “Consider this my way of making amends. I’ll make your favorite dinner. And hey, who knows, maybe we’ll end up being friends.”
“You want to be friends with me?” I cross my arms, unconvinced.
He shrugs. “I mean, you’re friends with Dex…so, why not me? I’ll be here awhile, filming a new HBO series, and I barely know anyone in Chicago.”
I nod. “I can sorta relate.”
“Alright, then it’s settled,” Grady says, running a hand through his jet-black hair. “What do you want me to cook for you?”
I bite my lip. Grady’s already a step ahead, while I’m still deciding if I want to take him up on his offer. He assumes he’ll get his way…and I’m sure he does, most of the time. He’s so damn good-looking, and boy does he know it. Ugh.
There’s no such thing as quiet confidence where Grady Brooks is concerned.
But if I judge him by his appearance, I’m no better than the strangers I meet who automatically peg me as an airhead. Justbecause he oozes charm and swagger from every pore on his perfect, built-like-a-linebacker body doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give him a second chance.
Besides, it doesn’t make a huge difference whether I stay here to work with him now, or come back to ask my questions over dinner later. Either way, it’s work—not a date. Plus, I do believe he’s changed. Grady was definitely drunk the night I met him at that party. But he’s been sober a year, and I don’t want to brush off the progress he’s made.
