Overlooked(2)(141)
Then I will turn her over to the lowlife who’s looking for her and move on with my life.
Chapter three
GRACE CHAMBERS
Saturday night finds me on the couch, stuffing my face with my favorite movie snack: popcorn and milk chocolate. Stephania is in the kitchen retrieving her famous hot wings while I search through the channels.
Since neither of us have much of a social life, it has become our Saturday night ritual to veg out on the sofa with all our favorite foods and loads of reality TV.
Finally, I land on our favorite housewives show before my mind drifts to eyes the color of honey and rough hands large enough to…
“What did I miss?” Stephania asks, interrupting my wayward thoughts. She plops down beside me with a bowl of saucy wings.
I try, unsuccessfully, to concentrate on the overdressed women and petty catfights but Jameson intrudes every thought I have for the next thirty minutes. Stephania doesn’t hold her tongue when she notices.
“Okay,” she says muting the TV. “What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, playing it coy.
She doesn’t buy it and says as much. I know the guilt is visible all over my face.
“You’re still thinking about this Jameson guy, aren’t you?” she asks reading my mind.
A frustrated groan escapes me as I drop my head on the cushion.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I admit.
I know there’s no point in lying to her. Since meeting at a job fair a year ago, we’ve been thick as thieves. She’s the one person I’ve grown to trust here.
“Are you sure you told me everything?” she implores knowingly. “Have you seen him since the office on Friday?”
“No, but he called me last night.” I briefly fill her in on Jameson’s bold attempt at seducing me over the phone.
“The guy has balls,” she says after a sip of her soda. “Just be careful, Grace. He has a reputation.”
She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.
“I just wish I wasn’t so turned on by it. This is wrong for so many reasons.”
“You need a distraction,” Stephania claims, eyeing me closely.
“What kind of distraction?” I ask, leery of what’s coming next.
A huge smile eclipses her face and I know my premonitions are right.
“Let me set you up with one of the teachers at my school. I know the perfect guy for you.”
I roll my eyes at her enthusiasm. She works at the local high school and has been trying to set me up with the history teacher since she started the gig.
Each time, I vehemently turn down her offer. This time is no different.
“You know I’m not ready to date anyone yet, Steph.”
Exasperation clouds her once playful expression and she huffs.
“You always say that but you never tell me why.”
Guilt assails me. I trust her more than most people but I still haven’t been completely open about my past. I’m just not ready to confront those feelings.
“One of these days,” I promise, turning my gaze back to the TV.
“Fine,” she concedes, standing up to walk in the kitchen. “Do you want another drink?”
I smile quietly to myself, happy that I’ve purchased myself a little more time.
*****
On Monday, I sit in my office sifting through emails, mentally preparing for the work day. As I type out a response to my boss about my latest report, my phone vibrates twice, alerting me to a new text message.
Absentmindedly, I grab the phone and scan the screen. The same number from Friday night stares back at me and I know it’s him.
Butterflies rapidly invade my stomach.
Swiping up, I key in my passcode to reveal his message.
Miss me yet?
Heat rushes into my cheeks and I can’t stop the smile that follows. Since his phone call Friday night, I’ve foolishly anticipated his next attempt at communication.
Not a chance, I type back.
He replies twice within a matter of seconds.
Liar.
What are you wearing, Ms. Chambers?
Instant arousal shoots through my core and I squirm in my chair. It is far too early for these sensations to assault me.
When I don’t text him back right away, he abandons the text messaging and calls me directly.
“Tell me your secret, Grace.”
I’m unprepared for how sexy he sounds first thing in the morning. His sinful voice is somewhat scratchy, as if he’s just waking up.
The thought of him calling me from bed does inexplicable things to my swelling lust.
“What are you talking about?” I ask as I begin my new practice of folding and unfolding my legs in an attempt to relieve the building pressure.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left your office on Friday and I want to know your secret.”