Play Me_A Standalone Romance Page 7

  “This is it.” I set my bags down and dig for my keys.

  “I didn’t even know this was up here.” He glances around the area. “Just two units?”

  “Yeah. I guess when they remodeled, the owner decided to keep this a secret level. One apartment was for him, and the other for clients or performers who were passing through town,” I say as I try to unlock the door. I push the knob in and up. “Dammit. This thing always gives me trouble.”

  “What’s wrong?” he says, standing too close. His proximity is intoxicating.

  “I, um…” I’m unsure of what he asked. So, I say the only thing that comes to mind. “I have to pee.”

  I have to pee? Kill me now.

  Mortified, I cover my face. “Did I just say that?” I say into my palms.

  “You did.” A low chuckle rumbles form deep within his throat.

  “Give me the key.”

  With my hands still hiding my face, I spread my fingers apart and peek through the cracks. “I don’t have to pee,” I confess. “You smell good. I couldn’t think.”

  Lee leans in closer, his lips so close I can feel the words he breathes through my fingertips. “You smell good too, Ellie.” He raises his hand up and gently removes one of mine followed by the other, bringing it up to his lips for a tender kiss. “But if we don’t get these groceries inside, your ice cream will melt.”

  “Right. Ice cream.” I find myself smitten, repeating words. My God, I’m acting like a fool.

  “Yes. The key?” He holds out his hand, palm up.

  “Oh, right!” I toss them in his direction. If he touches me one more time I’m bound to implode.

  With a little jostle, the door opens. “If you have a screwdriver I can fix this right up.”

  Picking the bags back up, I scoot past him sideways, trying to avoid touching the man because right now all my senses are on high alert. “Um, I don’t think I have one, but if you want to come in, feel free to check around.” I place the bags on the island and turn, right into Lee. “Where did you come from?”

  “Thought you could use some help with these.” He leans forward to place the rest of the bags on the counter his body pinning mine against the edge.

  “You still smell good.”

  “I need to wear this every time I see you.”

  “I think I’m just horny.”

  The deep rumble of his laugh vibrates next to my ear. “I can take care of that, too.”

  “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s embarrassing.” I try to look away, but he slowly brings my face back to his.

  “No, it’s not.” Our eyes meet, before his drop to my lips. “You know what?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your lips look lonely.” He smiles the sexiest smile I have ever seen.

  “They do?”

  “Yeah.” He licks his lips before continuing, “Would you like them to meet mine?”

  Yeah, I sure would…hey wait!

  “You dork!” I push him off me, pointing my finger at him as I walk by. “You almost had me.”

  “Much better than the traditional way, don’t you think?” He follows behind me, looking in cabinets and closets.

  “Uh-huh.” I look over my shoulder. “You keep telling yourself that.”

  “I think I’d rather keep proving myself right.” He winks.

  “Did this place come fully furnished?” He opens the coat closet, moving a few things around.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  He pulls down a little red box. “’Cause I was hoping it would be stocked with one of these.” He sets it on the table while he pulls out a

  couple screwdrivers.

  “Oh! The door.” I’ve been so consumed with thoughts of Lee that I forgot his whole purpose for coming in.

  “Yeah, it just needs to be adjusted.” He kneels down in the open doorway, turning screws to secure the hardware. He wiggles the knob, then stands to open and close the door. “I think this should do it.”

  “Lee, you didn’t have to do that.”

  He sticks the tools in his back pocket and looks down at me, brows furrowed. “I think we better check out the lock.”

  “Oh, good idea. Do you want to go outside, or me?”

  Locking the door, he goes out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

  What’s his problem?

  With a turn of the knob, the door flies open. “It’s fixed,” Lee announces as he stalks toward me, walking me backward until we can’t move any farther. My back is against the wall. “I wanted to fix it.”

  “Wha-wha?” I try to get out, but his lips crash down on mine. His tongue expertly invades my mouth, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  This kiss is full of passion, exciting all my senses.

  Hungry.

  Greedy.

  He took my mouth as if he owned it. The way he holds me against him, his mouth locked to mine, makes a promise. One of never letting go.

  I don’t want him to.

  Panting, he backs away. “Ellie. I’ve got to go, but this is not me walking away. I’m not leaving. This is me telling you I’ll see you

  tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” I’m at a loss for words. And his touch.

  “Okay.” He nods, backing away slowly, his grin bigger with each step. “Noon?”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh! I almost forgot.” He reaches behind him. “I forgot about these two.” He hands me the screwdrivers. “And this.” He gives me the keys. “But what I wanted…” He pulls his phone out. “I need to get your number.”

  “I don’t have one. The parents took my phone when I got kicked out.”

  “Damn.” He glances around the room. “Okay.” He finds my notebook and pen on the coffee table. “Here is my number.” He jots it down. “If for some reason something comes up, call me.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” He nods at the paper. “I’m there if you need me.” He backs out the door, which is still open from when he barged in.

  “Stay!” I blurt out. “I mean, I’m performing tonight. Stay and watch.” I try to plead my case in getting him to stay.

  “I wish I could, but Grans is waiting on her—”

  “Pads?” I interrupt, causing us both to laugh at the memory.

  “I was going to say groceries, but yeah, those too.” He gives me one more sexy smirk before he finally turns and leaves, but this time, I know it’s with a promise of tomorrow.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lee

  Something shifted tonight and I’m not sure when or how it happened, but I felt it and I know damn well she felt it too.

  That kiss.

  It replays in my head over and over again. My mouth on hers. Devouring it. Needing more, but not taking it.

  She asked me to stay. That was my chance to find out who she is, but staying meant breaking a promise I already made, and I couldn’t risk that. So, I did the only thing I could. I left with another promise—that I’ll be back tomorrow.

  With work, Grans and the back and forth, I can barely manage as it is. And now that I’ve found someone I want to spend time with, I find myself thinking about what I should be doing and what I want, but it’s not about me. It’s never been about me.

  Ellie wasn’t a part of the plan, but I want her to be. Damn, I want her to be. I just have to figure out how in the world I can keep my promise to one, while wanting to make all the promises to the other—and keep them.

  Things are looking up. With the pending promotion, the home nurse, extra help from the neighbors, and now Ellie, I feel as if I can accomplish anything. That no matter what happens, I can deal with it.

  Almost home, I try to push the thoughts of Ellie away and focus on Grans. She’s made it a point of telling me how sick and tired she is of the food I’ve been forcing her to eat and honestly, I don’t blame her. I can’t keep using the fire damage as an excuse to keep the kitchen out of order. I’m scared of w
hat will happen when I’m gone though. Will she burn herself? Forget what she is cooking? I have no clue, but I do know that me taking my time getting things put back together is a way of controlling the situation, but just like the disease, you can’t really control it. I know I need to deal with it, but for now, I think I’ve come up with a solution.

  Pulling in, I see all the lights are on. Last time I came home to this, she was searching through every room in the house for a necklace my grandfather gave her on their tenth wedding anniversary. The memory of that day is vivid.

  “Where is it? Where did it go?” Grans is frantic, searching through all the drawers, tossing clothes around the room, talking to herself. “It has to be here somewhere.” She turns, finally noticing me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” She rushes over, wrapping her arms around me. “I lost it.”

  “Lost what?” I’m confused.

  “The necklace.” She pulls back, running her fingers through my hair, something she always used to do to my grandfather.

  “Which one?”

  “The heart locket, the one you got me for our tenth wedding anniversary.” Tears begin to stain her face.

  “That I got you?” I’m still unaware of what is going on or what necklace she is talking about. I’ve never bought her one, and I never felt like I should; that was something my grandfather would do for each anniversary. It was something special between them.

  Between them. No…

  “Oh, Paulie, I’m so sorry. I lost it,” she apologizes to her late husband, my grandfather, thinking I’m him.

  Me.

  The doctors tried to explain and I listened the best I could, but I thought I had time to do the research. To talk to the therapists who could help me deal with the situations when they eventually happened. Because they would happen. I didn’t listen. I didn’t prepare. I should have. Because this moment, no matter how prepared you are, is devastating.

  Pushing her away, I turn and try to figure out what to do. I pace the room, searching for the right thing to say, to do.

  “Paulie, please don’t be mad.” She covers her face as sobs rack her body.

  I need to find the necklace. Where would it be?

  “Honey, I had it on, or I thought I did.” She begins to follow me around the room, not giving me the space I need to think.

  “Just stop!” I roar, the situation too much for me to bear.

  Grans’ eyes go wide with fear; she collapses to the floor, curls up in a ball and cries, repeating something that I can’t make out, over and over again.

  I did this. I caused her to fear my grandfather. Panic sets in. What happens now? Did I change her past by not handling the situation the right way? Will she think my grandfather, who adored her, who never raised his voice once, yelled at her?

  I can’t take it.

  “I love you. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. I didn’t mean to.” Her chant is more clear, and louder.

  I have to find it. Walking around the room, stepping over clothes, I begin to search all the places I thought it could have been, but I find nothing.

  The closet. When grandfather passed, she packed away all of his things and stored them in the closet. The thought of her having to donate his things was too final for her. So, we spent hours organizing and boxing up his stuff.

  Throwing open the doors of her walk-in closet, I search for the small, metal, fireproof box that I bought for her to store all my grandfather’s prized possessions. Working my way from the back to the front, I finally find it, next to his worn-out house slippers. I smile at the memory of him sliding them on every morning on his way to the kitchen where Grans would have one egg over easy, a piece of toast—lightly toasted, but heavy on the butter—and a cup of black coffee, while he read the morning paper.

  Opening the box, I see all the necklaces my grandfather bought her, one for every anniversary. How could I have forgotten? Grans lost a lot of weight after my grandfather’s passing. Worried she would lose her wedding ring, she took hers and his and put them on a worn-out, gold-plated chain he bought her for their first year together. She put all the other ones away and had worn those symbols of their promises every day since.

  I questioned why that necklace, but she just said it’s the reason for all the other ones, but this one meant more. Too poor to buy something of value, he bought that one for a few dollars and surprised her with it on their first anniversary, with a promise of nice ones to come.

  Gently untangling the years of memories, I find the one she was searching for and try to right my wrong.

  “Jeanie,” I speak the name I heard my grandfather say so many times. “Look what I found.”

  “Paul! You found it.” She pushes herself up off the floor, making her way to me. Turning, she lifts up her hair. “Will you?”

  “Sure, Jeanie.” I slide the memories around her neck and clasped it in place.

  “Thank you, Paul! I love it as much as the day you bought it for me,” Grans says, making her way over to the mirror, admiring the necklace she thought was lost.

  I can’t stay in here any longer. I need air. “Jeanie, I’m going to work in the garage.”

  “Okay, honey,” she says, waving me off.

  Almost out the door she calls after me. “Tell Sammy-Jo it’s time for lunch.”

  I cringe at the name I haven’t heard in a couple years. One that I could go a lifetime without hearing again.

  A knock on my window startles me. Katie stands there, just watching me.

  How long have I been sitting here?

  Swinging open the door, I gather the bags.

  “I saw you just sitting out here. I thought maybe you could use a hand.” She reaches in and grabs a couple bags. “I thought you were just getting a few things?” She laughs at the bags piled in the back seat.

  “Well, Grans complained, and this time I listened.” I smile.

  Heading toward the house, Katie fills me in on the events from earlier. How she found Grans, what she did to calm her down. Luckily, Katie was at home and has the patience of Job.

  “Hey, Lee.” She reaches for the door. “There’s something else that I think you should know before—”

  “Here let me get that.” I take the door from her, letting her inside

  first.

  “Lee. I think—” She turns suddenly, eyes wide.

  “Katie, what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?” I push past and call out for Grans as I throw the sacks on the table. “Grans are you—”

  “Shhhh, she just laid down.”

  A woman who I haven’t seen in a couple years comes walking down the hall. A vision that should be familiar, yet is so foreign.

  “Mom? What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” She takes a step closer.

  I raise my hand, a silent warning not to come any closer.

  “Katie, did you call her?” My voice catches as I turn to face the woman who has helped me so much over the past few years. Someone who I have counted on numerous times and without question was always there.

  “Lee, I promise, I didn’t.” She sets the bags down and comes to stand in front of me. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Okay.” I nod.

  My mom has always been in and out of my life since I was born, chasing a father who I never knew. Then when I was seven she left for good, only coming back when she needed something.

  “Get out,” I mumble, turning around, facing the last person I want to see tonight. My mom is checking her reflection in the stainless-steel toaster, the only appliance I didn’t remove since it basically has a built-in timer.

  “So, I was thinking—”

  “Get out,” I say a little louder.

  “That maybe we could do something, just the two of us,” she continues as if I hadn’t interrupted. “Maybe do a little catching up?”

  “Get! Out! Now!” The anger in my voice vibrates through every cell in my body.


  “Presley—” she pleads.

  “Do not call me that!” I swing the door open. “Actually, don’t call me at all. Leave!”

  “Lee, I’m not going anywhere.” She stands her ground.

  “Fine. You leave me no choice.” I stomp over to where she is, heart racing, adrenaline pumping. “You made your decision when you left.” I reach for her arm, but she jerks away.

  “Lee, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tries to place her hand on my chest. The touch is meant to calm, but instead it infuriates me.

  “What’s there to know?” I get in her face and say the words I have wanted to say each and every time she popped in. “No one wants you here,” I snarl, my voice laced with venom.

  “I do.” Grans comes strolling down the hall. “I called her. I want her here.”

  I have never felt so much betrayal as I do right now. Grans, who has worked a lifetime to heal the broken heart this woman shattered, invited the exact same woman back to do it all over again. Why?

  “Presley, my dear, sweet boy.” Grans pushes her way in front of me, separating me from my mom. “I called her last week and asked her to come home. I need help,” she says as she looks up, trying to blink away the tears.

  Wrapping my arms around the woman who was a mom in every

  sense of the word, I reassure her. “Grans, I can take care of you.”

  “I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.” She brings an arm up between us and pats my chest. “I knew what I was getting into with you. I chose to take care of you, but you…” She shakes her head. “You didn’t have a choice.”

  “Grans.” I push away. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying.” She takes a step forward, placing her small, fragile hand over my wounded heart. “This. It deserves to beat, to live. Presley, it deserves to love.” She exhales, closing her eyes.

  “I am. I’m doing all those things.” I start to count off on my hands. “I just got a promotion, I have people asking me about my furniture, I met this girl.”

  “Yes! That—it’s what I want for you.” Grans takes my hand, holding it between both of hers. “I want you to experience what I had with your grandfather. I want you to learn to live life and love it, not be bogged down with a schedule. You are a twenty-four-year-old man with a curfew, because of me.” Grans turns her head, silently speaking to my mom. “I don’t want to be your promise anymore.”