Of course, if that’s true, explain my horn-dog parents. I know I sure don’t want to.
“Okay, you know what?” Callie proclaims, slapping her hands on the counter and standing up. “As much fun as this little visit has been, I need to head home.”
My eyes snap to hers. “You’re not staying?”
Callie winks at me. “And eat his cooking? I think I’ll pass. Greyston?” He looks back to acknowledge her. “Don’t forget to finalize your itinerary. You don’t want to get caught in a room with another single. Toby won’t stand for it.”
Toby?
“Shit, don’t remind me. He wouldn’t let up that whole trip. I thought for sure he was going to ride my ass because of it the entire weekend.” Greyston’s eyes snap wide open, meeting my own bewildered expression. “That didn’t come out right.”
“Is that what Toby said?” Callie asks in a coy voice.
My cheeks are burning, and I can only imagine how red my face is. I know I should probably go, but something is keeping me here. Morbid curiosity, most likely.
“Weren’t you leaving?” I can tell by the playful edge in Greyston’s voice that he’s not angry.
“Thankfully, yes,” she replies. “Remember. Itinerary. ASAP.”
“Holy hell, Callie.” Greyston sounds kind of exasperated. “You keep bossing me around like that and people are going to think we’re dating.”
My entire body goes rigid, and my head jolts up. Looking between the two of them, my eyes wild with confusion, I let the final piece of this puzzle fall into place. “You’re not dating?” I ask.
Both of them are quiet for a moment, acknowledging each other and then me before practically doubling over in laughter.
“N-no,” Callie stammers between giggles. When she’s finally got a handle on her laughter, she continues. “I’m his assistant. While Greyston is very sweet and caring, I’m not his type.”
This seems odd to me, because to look at her, she’s exactly the type of woman I can picture him with. In fact, I did up until thirty seconds ago. Then it hits me.
Not his type.
Toby.
Riding hard.
Holy crap.
Chapter 10
No, I tell myself. If I was able to jump to the wrong conclusions regarding Greyston and Callie, then there is a very real possibility that I’m doing the same thing now.
Or…am I? He’s polite, a good cook, his house is immaculate and well-decorated, and he dresses great. I suppose it wouldn’t be too unbelievable.
Callie says goodbye, and I think I answer her, but I’ve got so many things rushing through my poor, overworked brain that I really can’t be sure.
Did she say something about Greyston booking a trip?
“Juliette?”
Taking a breath, I raise my gaze from the countertop, my blurred vision clearing the minute I lock eyes with Greyston. “Hmm?”
“You all right?” Turning the burner on the stovetop off, he crosses the kitchen and leans on the counter, facing me. “You seem, I don’t quite know…off?”
I smile, deciding that I don’t think I know him quite well enough yet to blatantly question his sexuality. Plus, I’m probably wrong. “I’m fine.”
Greyston smiles widely, pushing himself up off the counter and clapping his hands together. “You hungry?” His eyes fall to my still-wrapped protein bar, and he snickers.
“Starved, actually,” I confess.
Greyston heads to the cupboard, grabs two plates, and dishes up whatever he was working on. When he sets them down on the island counter where I’m sitting, I notice he’s made spaghetti.
He takes the seat next to me and hands me a fork while I look down at my dinner, inhaling deeply. “This looks amazing,” I say, picking up my fork and twirling some of the pasta around the tines. After taking my first bite, I look at Greyston. “So, you’re going on a trip soon?”
He nods. “There’s this baseball player in Houston that the agency has had its eye on for a few months. He’s young and could do well under the right representation.”
I say nothing. Do nothing.
He reaches out, grazing the skin on the outside of my knee before quickly drawing back as though the contact was out of line in some way. The fire of his touch still lingers, and I find myself wanting him to do it again. “I know you’re still getting settled, and I honestly didn’t think I’d be leaving this soon. I was hoping this trip would wait another couple weeks, but if we don’t get him now, someone else will.”
“I understand.” I don’t, really—he may as well be speaking another language—but it’s his job, and I know he has to do it to pay the bills. “Maybe I can invite Daphne over?”