Double Team

  18

  Noah

  "Oof,” Grace lets out a sigh under her breath as she rounds the corner in the hallway and collides with me. When she falls against my chest, my hands go automatically to her waist to keep her from falling.

  Score. I'm touching her again.

  I'm so distracted by the fact that I'm holding her, and she's looking at me the way she's looking at me right now, and by the fact that I want to kiss her, that it takes me a few seconds to register the cool wetness spreading across my stomach.

  Grace looks down at the bottle of chocolate syrup in her hands and then up at me. Chocolate sauce is splattered across her breasts, dotted on her shoulder, and dripping from her hair. A comparable amount of syrup is splashed on my shirt.

  "You're determined to ruin every article of clothing I wear, aren't you?" she asks.

  I can't hide the growl in my throat at the prospect of ruining all of Grace Sullivan’s clothing. "If that’s what it takes to get you out of your clothes, I'll go destroy your closet right now."

  "Is this your version of flirting?" she asks.

  My hand is still on her waist, the other on the small of her back. I should let her go. I'm sure Aiden is around here someplace – he disregarded the fact that I housed him with the camp counselors and helped himself to a room in the ranch house - and the last thing I want is a moment like this with Grace ruined by Aiden's stupid ass.

  But I've never been much good at doing what I should do. "Nope. This isn't flirting. Flirting would be if I licked the chocolate sauce off of you."

  Grace's eyes go big and her lips part before I even lean in close to her. What I'm about to do is the opposite of professional, yet I can't seem to resist this girl. She should be the last woman on Earth I'm attracted to – rich, privileged, powerful - even if she seems down-to-earth and charitable.

  My lips are close to her ear, yet she doesn't make a move to extricate herself from my arms. She doesn't turn away. In fact, I hear her sigh softly, the sound barely audible but so damn hot that it only encourages me. Leaning in closer, I put my lips on her neck, tasting a dab of chocolate syrup on her skin.

  This time, there’s no mistaking the sound that leaves her mouth as anything but absolutely sexual. She definitely moaned the second my lips touched her neck, that’s for sure. I slide my hands around her back, moving lower until I cup her curvy ass. My hands linger there and I pull her against my hardness.

  “Noah,” she whispers, pressing her hand against my chest. I can’t tell if she’s encouraging me or protesting.

  “Grace,” I echo. “I’m two seconds from picking you up and carrying you to my room and using the rest of that chocolate sauce to paint your naked body.”

  “Noah, I can’t- ”

  “You didn’t let me finish. Then I’m going to lick you from head to toe. Or toe to head. Either one. I’ll give you the choice.”

  Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t move from my arms. She just looks up at me with big green eyes and perfectly lush lips that are practically begging to be kissed. “I… shouldn’t.”

  “Because it’s not professional?”

  “No. I mean yes. It’s not professional,” she protests. Then her voice drops to a whisper. “It's just that… I’m attracted to you and A-”

  “Hey Noah, I- ”

  Aiden. That fucker.

  Grace jumps away from me like she’s just been electrocuted. Aiden stands in the doorway looking at me through narrowed eyes, but I don’t give a shit whether he saw Grace and I together or not. In fact, I hope he saw us together, because I’m staking my claim on this girl.

  “I should go clean up,” Grace says quickly. “The chocolate sauce. Noah and I are into each other – I mean, we ran into each other.” She laughs nervously. “We forgot the chocolate bars for the s’mores for the kids outside. I found the chocolate syrup in your refrigerator. I thought it might work in a pinch.”

  A sly smile spreads across Aiden’s face. “Hey Noah, I was just trying to find you to tell you your package arrived.”

  “What package?”

  Aiden looks at me meaningfully, his eyebrows raised. “You know. The one with the prescription cream for your…” He nods his head, gesturing toward my crotch. “Sores.”

  Grace clears her throat. “I’m just going to um… go change.”

  That jackass.

  “I didn’t want to say anything in… you know.” Aiden’s voice drops to a whisper before he continues: “Mixed company.”

  “He’s obviously screwing around,” I say quickly, glancing at Grace, who looks increasingly uncomfortable. “You can’t take anything he says seriously.” I glare at him. “He’s not a serious person.”

  “I’m pretty sure that your doctor told you that the sores are no joke,” Aiden insists, his expression earnest.

  “Um… I’ll see you both later.” Grace slips out of the room before I can offer any other explanation for Aiden’s stupidity, although I’d think his stupidity would be self-evident by now.

  “Really? Cream for my sores? That’s the kind of juvenile shit you’re resorting to now?”

  Aiden grins. “I prefer the term creativity.”

  “Well, I’d prefer to beat your ass.”

  “Don’t get all worked up just because Grace thinks that your junk is a petri dish,” Aiden says, laughing.

  “That’s real funny from someone who’s probably screwed half the women in Colorado.”

  “I think you mean that it’s real ironic.”

  “Big word for a small brain.”

  “I know. It’s a good thing I have my looks and my giant cock to make up for my low IQ.”

  “As long as you keep your cock away from Grace.”

  Aiden laughs. “That’s not going to happen, Noah. You make your moves on her. I’ll make mine. I’m sure she’ll choose the best man. By best man, I obviously mean me.”

  After changing, I go out to the campfire mostly because I’m hoping to get a chance to tell Grace that I do not in fact have a sexually transmitted disease. Or any disease at all.

  Except for my best friend Aiden. He’s like a growth I can’t get rid of.

  I don’t get to talk to Grace at the fire, though. Neither does Aiden, which is a small consolation. Grace is preoccupied with helping the kids roast marshmallows – either that, or she’s making a distinct effort to avoid Aiden and I. I think it might be the latter.

  She doesn’t make eye contact with me when I pass her. She doesn’t actually think that what Aiden said was true, does she?

  After s’mores, I head back to the ranch house. Grace stays behind to talk to the camp counselors. I try to avoid thinking any more about the incident with Grace earlier. The incident. Like it’s some kind of tragic experience.

  Kissing chocolate sauce off of Grace’s neck was about as far from a tragic experience as I’ve ever gotten. That moan she let out gave me the impression that it was the same for her.

  Of course, Aiden’s whole “prescription cream” bullshit could have changed things.

  I shove that thought aside as I go out to the large deck that wraps around the upstairs bedrooms on the side of the house. The deck is one of my favorite things about the ranch house. During the day, you can see for miles out across the meadows to the rolling hills in every direction. In the winter, when the countryside is blanketed by untouched snow, the reflection of the sunlight is so bright it’s practically blinding. And it’s quiet out here when it’s not being overrun by children and camp counselors. I could sit on this deck for hours just immersing myself in the stillness of the place.

  But tonight, instead of soaking up the quiet – because even though the kids are heading to their tents for the night, they’re not exactly church mice – I flip through my phone, responding to personal emails and text messages. I generally try to avoid the social media bullshit like the plague not only because I suck at it, but also because when you’re a professional football player everyone has a damn opinion about your plays
and your performance last s’eason and what you’re going to do next season, and the wager on where you’re going next year. Listening to all that crap, all those opinions that become voices in your head, is enough to make you crazy.

  That’s especially true right now when I’m trying to figure out what the hell I want to do when it comes to my entire career.

  “Noah?” Grace’s voice breaks through my thoughts as she steps out onto the balcony from the guest bedroom. She’s wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a thin grey pullover with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The outfit makes her look more like a college undergraduate than the head of a foundation.

  “What’s up?” I pull myself out of my Adirondack chair, trying to look casual and not like I’m jumping up like a damn puppy dog at the sight of her.

  “What’s up?” Fucking A, Noah. You’re not a teenager. Try sounding slightly more intelligent.

  “Uh… hey,” I say. Damn it. That might be even worse. You told her you wanted to lick chocolate sauce off her naked body, but you can't muster anything better than “Hey, what's up?”

  She pauses when she reaches me then quickly breaks eye contact and turns away to look out at the horizon. “The stars are so bright up here. It’s amazing. You forget about that in the city.”

  “Yeah. It’s one of the things I love about being out here.”

  “Oh, I didn’t notice you had a telescope,” Grace says, walking over to it. “A Celestron. Nice.”

  “You know your telescopes?” I ask, watching her bend toward the eyepiece.

  Focus. Don’t get distracted by her ass.

  Her perfect ass.

  Her curvy ass.

  The ass that fit so well in my hands.

  “Oh, yeah. My dad is an astronomy buff. When I was a kid, we used to go outside at night and he’d teach me all of the constellations. Then when he was traveling, he’d call and tell me what the sky looked like where he was, what constellations he could see.”

  “That’s cool.”

  That’s cool. Nope, I’m not doing any better at not sounding like an adolescent boy.

  “I didn’t have as nice of a telescope as this, though, that’s for sure,” she notes.

  “The White House doesn’t have a telescope?”

  “Well, I stayed in Colorado when my dad got elected President, so I haven’t lived at the White House. I’ve only visited,” Grace notes. “I can’t remember there being one, but my dad has hosted astronomy nights on the south lawn for the past three years.”

  “Huh. I didn’t know that.”

  She laughs. “He gets really excited about them. I flew in for the first one they put on. It’s all these kids – little geniuses who are way smarter than me – running around mixing with scientists and astronomers. They’re all so thrilled to be at the White House and meeting the President, but what they don’t know is that my dad completely geeks out about it himself. The morning after the first astronomy night, he spent the entire time during breakfast talking about it.”

  “Are you and your dad close?”

  She smiles, but I can tell right away she’s giving me her media smile. “Of course. My parents are both wonderful people who have always been devoted to me.”

  “That sounds like the most bullshit press statement ever.”

  She bends over and looks through the telescope again, momentarily silent, before she turns, her eyes searching mine. “You wouldn’t be trying to get me to say something bad about my family, would you?”

  “What? No. Shit. Is that what you think? That I’m fishing for dirt?” I’m so blindsided by the question that I don’t know whether to be shocked or offended.

  Her brow furrows before she relaxes. “No, I don’t.”

  “I guess you probably get that a lot – people who have another agenda for getting close to you.”

  She exhales heavily. “Of course you would understand that,” she says, her expression softening. “I forget that you’re in the public light as much, if not more, than I am. I… don’t have many friends. Not close ones. So I’m not all that great at talking about myself.”

  “You should be great at it, with all of the interviews you have to do,” I tease.

  “I think the same could be said of you.”

  “Well, I’m not digging for dirt on your family,” I tell her. “Just so you know. And I’m not great at small talk either.”

  “Okay, fine,” she declares with a smile. “Then we won’t do small talk.”

  “So what’s the opposite of small talk?” I ask.

  Getting naked. The opposite of small talk is getting naked.

  “Super deep talk?” she jokes back.

  No. It’s getting naked.

  “Is this where we talk about the meaning of life or some philosophical bullshit?”

  Grace wrinkles her nose. “Ew. No.”

  “Well, no small talk was your idea, sweetheart.” Damn, that last word sounded way too… normal leaving my mouth. When I called her sweetheart before, it was sarcastic, totally meant to push her buttons and wind her up. Right now, it just rolled off the tongue like I’ve said it a hundred times.

  “Okay. Tell me something no one else knows about you.”

  “Is that how we’re going to play this? You accuse me of prying for dirt on your family, but ask me to reveal all of my secrets?” I raise my eyebrows. "That's a bold move."

  “Fine. You can ask me mine,” she says, laughing.

  “I already know yours.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “All right, I want to hear this. What dirty secret of mine have you dug up?”

  “I didn’t have to dig. It’s written all over you."

  "What is?"

  "The fact that you totally want me.”

  “Well, that is a dirty secret.”

  “I was hoping it could be.”

  Her face flushes red, but she laughs. “You’re avoiding the question. Unless you want to go back to small talk.”

  “I was hoping no small talk meant we could pick up where we left off last time."

  "Noah, I –"

  I cut her off because I don't want to hear her say what I suspect she was trying to say before – that she's attracted to me and Aiden. “Okay, I’ll show you my dirtiest secret.”

  “Are you about to show me your dick?”

  “That is not my dirty secret, contrary to what Aiden might have you believe. The prescription cream thing was not true, you know.”

  Grace laughs. “Yes, I assumed that much.”

  “Also, my dick wouldn’t be a dirty secret, either, because I’m pretty proud of it."

  She raises her eyebrows. "Oh, are you?"

  "Yeah. I'll take it out if you want to see why I'm proud."

  Grace laughs. “Come on. Out with it – the secret, not the dick.”

  “I’ll show you, if you swear not to laugh.”

  She makes a solemn face and holds up her right hand. “On my grave.”

  “I think you’re supposed to swear on the grave of someone who’s already died.”