Rm w/a Vu(87)
The minute Jocelyn pulls me into her arms, I relax…a little; the fact remains that I’m being hugged by a woman I’ve only just met. “Then you must be the reason our boy has been in good spirits the few times we’ve talked to him.”
I laugh as she loosens her hold on me. “Yes, I suppose I could be.”
Greyston clears his throat, and I turn to him with a smirk, only to find him nervously running his hand through his dark hair. “Mom, can I offer you a glass of wine?”
“Well, I wish you would,” she teases with a light laugh. Greyston pours one for her, and as she takes it, she turns to me. “Juliette, won’t you have a glass of wine with your mother and me?”
“Oh,” I say, looking at Greyston and then my father. “I would, but I’m not quite old enough yet. I’ll take a rain check, though? Perhaps I can cash it in in February?”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Jocelyn promises before turning to the guys. “Why don’t the three of you leave us women to chat?”
I’m suddenly nervous about this idea, and Greyston can tell. Problem is, the smile on his face tells me he doesn’t really think I’m in any real danger.
“Well, gentlemen,” Greyston says. “What do you say we grab a couple of beers and go throw the burgers on the grill?”
With the guys outside, I go about finishing up the salad while Mom and Jocelyn talk and share a little about themselves. When my mom mentions her bakery, I swear Jocelyn almost falls off her stool. “Oh, I absolutely love your carrot cake! I don’t know what you do to it, but I’ve never tasted better!”
Mom laughs modestly. “Why, thank you. I’d be happy to give you the recipe.” This news excites Jocelyn beyond belief.
When I finish the salad, I place it in the fridge and go to the sink to wash my hands. As I lather the soap, I glance up through the window at the exact moment Greyston does, and we lock eyes. Even without saying anything verbally, he speaks volumes with his eyes. Offering me a half-smirk, he arches a brow and tilts his head, almost as though he wants to know if I’m all right.
Offering him a curt nod, I smile and mouth, “We’re fine. You?”
He only shrugs in response before something gleams in his eyes, and he smirks almost wickedly. “I want to vacuum,” he mouths, and my eyebrows knit together in confusion. Vacuum? He looks like he’s fighting to contain his laughter, which only serves to make things worse.
Needing him to clarify, I move only my lips, over-annunciating each syllable. “You want to vacuum?”
Looking down at his burgers and laughing, he shakes his head and says, “No”.
Even more perplexed, I move my lips over and over again, trying to figure out what he means. Vacuum…vacuum… No, not vacuum… I want to f… “Oh!” I cry out loud, slapping my hands over my mouth and turning around to see that I’ve startled our mothers. “Sorry. The, uh, water was hot.”
They go back to their conversation about cheesecake or brisket or whatever, and I narrow my eyes, turning back toward Greyston. “You’re bad,” I tell him silently, making him laugh again as he flips the burgers.
“You want to bring me the cheese?” he asks, and I stand there for a minute, trying to decipher if he’s actually saying something else. When I’m sure he’s really asking for cheese, I grab it from the fridge and take it out to him.
Dad and Daniel are sitting at the patio table talking while Greyston grills our dinner. I sidle up to him, setting the cheese on the ledge next to the grill. “You’re terrible,” I tell him. “Who knew you had such a dirty mouth?”
He laughs again. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. If it’s any consolation, I really did say vacuum.” Leaning in, he brushes my hair off my neck and presses a kiss just below my ear before whispering, “And while I often wonder what it might be like to…” He pauses for a minute, exhaling a single laugh against my neck and making me shudder “…fuck you, know that I plan to worship every inch of you—for hours if at all possible—when we do finally take that step.”
Desire shoots through every cell in my body, igniting a spark that spreads warmth through my veins and over my skin. Before we get ourselves too worked up, I clear my throat and take a step back. “How much longer until dinner?”
“Not much. Why don’t you start bringing everything out to the table?”
When I head back inside and let our mothers know that dinner should be ready soon, they help me carry the food and flatware. We’ve just finished setting the table when Greyston brings the plate of burgers over, and we all take our seats.