The Perfect Stroke(14)
I know that Gray thought he was being sweet bringing me here. He doesn’t know my history and, though we might have spent one mind-blowing weekend together, he doesn’t know anything about me. It’s just one night, and no one will expect me to be here. I’ll just grin and bear it. The sooner we get food and get out of here, the better. There’s no point in causing a scene. To do so would mean me explaining way too much to Gray about my past, which would be stupid. He’s a one-night stand. Okay, two nights. And he’s only here for a limited time. I can’t let myself forget that. I am not my mother. I am not the woman who goes from man to man because I can. I am not the girl with wanderlust in her eyes, never happy if she’s not on the road, off to the next best thing. I have roots here. I have a job—a business. I have goals, even if I can’t remember what those goals are anymore. There’s a reason I made them. I am not… her.
Mental pep talk done, we sit at the table and get our menus. As I look through the different entrees, I find myself missing the meals offered at Rosie’s diner. It’s not that I don’t like a nice night out. I’ve had a couple when I’ve been to the city with friends, but honestly, the diner is more my speed.
“I guess David was right.”
“David?”
“I’m here on his guest list. He said this was the best place to eat in three counties around here. I have to say, the menu definitely looks great.”
“It does,” I tell him, wondering if he can tell that I’m lying. I’m busy trying to figure out why it makes me sad that Gray seems so at home here. The man who talks about his brothers and sisters reminds me of a country boy. This Gray seems one step away from…
Something uneasy shifts in my stomach. He’s wearing a suit. He’s different. Even his attitude here seems different. It’s a cold reminder that though I might have slept with him, I don’t really know anything about him.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, and though I know he’s asking about what I want to eat, my first thought is, I’m thinking I should have never agreed to go out with you. I don’t say that, though it’s on the tip of my tongue.
“You order for us,” I tell him, literally unable to care less what he orders and just wanting it over and done at this point.
“You sure?”
“Surprise me.” I don’t even pay attention as he orders.
“Why am I getting the feeling this isn’t going well?” he asks.
I jerk up to look at him. “I’m not really a country club kind of girl.”
“What kind of girl are you?”
I study his face, trying to figure out if he’s truly interested, or just trying to get into my pants. I can’t decide. I take a breath and decide to just put it out there.
“I’m just guessing, Gray, but I’d say that a mechanic hasn’t set foot in the doors of this place, unless it was the back entrance to get to the garage area so they can work on club cars or something.”
“Why does it matter? You’re here now. You’re here with me and I want you here, that’s all that matters.”
His response annoys me. I’m not sure why I thought he would understand, but I did. “You’re right.”
He sighs, as if he can hear the doubt in my voice. He stands up, reaching for my hand. “Come on.”
“What? Why?”
“We’re going to get out of here. If you’re not comfortable, then we’ll go somewhere where you are.”
“Gray! Is that you?” The high-pitched voice, squealing until it rakes across my nerve endings, cries out. I know that voice. I abhor that voice. The fact that the voice is calling out Gray’s name only makes me detest it more.
I look up at Gray and see a look of distaste cross his face. I feel a little better. I would almost smile if the bane of my entire childhood Cammie Riverton wasn’t standing there looking at Gray like a moon-eyed dog in heat. What the hell?
“Cammie,” Gray says, and I think maybe I mistook his look, because his voice sure does seem awful warm now—welcoming, even.
“What a great surprise seeing you here! I thought you said you had another business meeting today.”
“I did, I was…”
“Oh. My. God! Claudia Cooper, is that you?”
I grind my teeth together, wishing I had the superpower to turn invisible. “That’d be me. How are you, Cammie?”
“What on earth are you doing here with Gray? How could you two possibly know each other?” she asks. Her voice is so snide and her eyes shoot imaginary bullets at me. I probably shouldn’t do it, but as always when Cammie is involved, I find I can’t stop my mouth from reacting.