6. Elsie

CHAPTER 6

Elsie

“ R ight, I understand what you’re saying, Ms. Shoemaker.” I rub my temples as I listen to the woman continue to yell at me for having to postpone our meeting due to my accident.

“How are you supposed to properly judge my pies if you aren’t eating them fresh?” she huffs and I have to fight back a groan. This project was supposed to bring me more holiday cheer and instead, I’m feeling less than ever before. Which, let me tell you, really sucks because it means Grant is right. And while I’m head-over-heels for the man, it doesn’t mean I want his stubborn ass getting to say ‘I told you so’. No, I am the one who gets to scream that when I fill him with the holiday cheer. Grant is not filling me with—

Grant comes out of his room and I quickly avert my gaze. He’s shirtless and very beautiful with his soft looking skin, dusting of black hair and soft muscles that I want to sink my teeth into. He walks over to me and leans over—causing his masculine, clean scent to invade my senses.

“Ms. Shoemaker!” he says loudly with fake enthusiasm. “Are my ears deceiving me or did I just overhear you yelling at sweet Elsie here about not being able to taste your pies this morning due to her car accident and the large amount of snow we got?”

Ms. Shoemaker exhales loudly. “I just believe it’s in poor taste. She’s going to try the pies in what? Two, three days, and then make her decision? How is that fair? Pies are best when eaten fresh!”

“Oh, I completely agree, which is why I’m confused about all the emotion coming from your end considering your pies are made from a can. Now, stop calling Elsie. I’ll be in touch if we need a replacement.” Grant hits the end call button on my phone and stands back up.

“Grant!” I hiss, while staring up at him in shock. “Ms. Shoemaker—”

“Is a fucking bitch. Now stop allowing her to drain you. You told her you were in an accident and stuck due to the snow in the email you sent last night. Stop allowing yourself to be so accessible to these people.” I know he’s right, but it’s so hard, I hate disappointing everyone.

“I was thinking about removing the front vendor’s spot,” I admit softly, knowing it won’t go over well. “I thought about seeing if you could put a couple walls up to block off the area and maybe we could make it like a Santa’s workshop. Remember? Like when we were kids? And then maybe a dog adoption area? I don’t know, I feel like I need to either give everyone the first spot or no one, ya know?” I look up at him as he considers me for a minute. He frowns before walking into his kitchen.

“How’s your head?” he calls back and I roll my eyes. It’s been two days since my accident. I’m fine. I’m sore, but fine. Okay, I’m not fine. I’ve spent the last two nights in the same house as Grant and after riding on his lap and feeling his holy-hell boner— oh yes, I felt it . No way I imagined that and my god if that’s what he’s rocking in there… Well, let’s just say I thought I was sexually frustrated before, but now I can’t stop looking at him like I’m starving and he is a delicious hunk of meat. God, I would take a bite out of him so—

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What!?” I scream at his question as he returns from the kitchen. He stands by the table with a confused expression as I clutch my chest and my face goes red. “Sorry,” I whisper. “I was… in thought.”

“Evidently,” he mutters and I notice a shy smile creep onto his handsome face as he sips from his mug of what I assume is coffee. I don’t know, though. I’m too busy burning a hole into his pants. “You waiting for it to do a trick?” he snorts out, and I want nothing more than to die. I huff and look away while standing from the table.

“Shut up,” I mutter, going to storm out of the room but Grant blocks me—his hand wrapping around the front of my waist.

“Grant?” I breathe out at the contact. I look from where his hand is to his face. He’s so close to me—if I just leaned in a couple inches…

“Yeah?” His voice is low and husky, and oh my god I need to squeeze my thighs together. I release a small, shaky breath as my tongue runs over my lips. His blue eyes follow my tongue like a predator stalking its prey.

I lean closer, my heart ramming against my ribcage. Is this it? Is this how we begin? Will we begin? He has to like me… right? I mean I can’t be imagining—

His eyes flick from my lips to my head and he frowns. “Looks like it’s bruising,” he mutters while setting his mug down. I deflate as he walks into the kitchen saying something about ice.

“ A re you trying to kill me?” Nona scolds while slamming her thermos down on my counter with an overly dramatic bang.

“I think there’s an argument to be had here that I’m trying to save you,” I reply dryly as she rears back as if I’ve slapped her.

“Elsie Penelope Marshall! You think I won’t jump over this counter and clock you with this cane? Try me. Now, give me my order and if you sneak that decaf shit in there one more time—”

“Fine!” I groan while dumping out her thermos in the sink and prepare the machine to make her the five shots of espresso she wants mixed in with her light roast. “You’re going to have a heart attack drinking all this!”

“Please, if I’m still able to hop in a swing while four men a third my age partake—”

“Oh. My. God!” I scream while covering my ears. “Stop! For the love of God—Stop!” She snickers while waiting for me to finish her coffee.

“Don’t be all upset because I have a healthy sex life and you’re sitting there whimpering in need.”

“You are my grandmother !” I huff as I shoved the thermos at her.

“Precisely! I’m worried about you! Listen, if you want…” She lets out a long sigh. “I’m willing to let you have the boys for a weekend, but we must never speak of it. I don’t much like the thought of sharing my partners with my grandchild. But I can’t stand to see you hurting.” My mouth falls open as I stare at her grinning face.

“You’re a loon. Now go to—” Oh, son of a bitch. The bell chimes and I look to see Grant walking in to get his daily coffee. Damn it, this is only going to end—

“Grant!” Nona beams brightly at the delicious looking man. God, he has no right being so good looking in work boots and jeans. “I have a favor to ask of you, would you mind helping an old lady out?” I give Grant the ‘run’ look that he seems to ignore while looking at the old woman.

“Yeah, I got some time,” he mutters and oh, you poor stupid gorgeous man.

“Perfect!” Nona cheers. “If you go to my condo, I have my sex swing still set up—it’s clean I promise. I need you to get it and bring it here for Elsie.” Grant blinks, his jaw slack as he stares at the woman and then to me.

“Don’t… look at me,” I whine, crouching down behind my counter while simultaneously praying an alien will come and abduct me.

Nona grabs the thermos off the counter. “Now, make sure when you grab the swing, you take the one on the door, not the big one. She ain’t ready for all that yet, plus I have a date tonight with a couple ladies and I can’t cancel on them again.” I hear Nona walk out of the shop but I don’t dare move from my spot. Screw the aliens, if this floor could just open up and suck me in, that would be amazing right now.

“Els.” Grant sounds about as stunned as I feel.

“Uh-huh?” It comes out almost like a whimper at this point.

“I uhmm… I’m not going to go get your grandmother’s sex swi—”

“Of course you’re not!” I hiss while popping back up. “Obviously she’s just trying to start something!”

“Start what?” he asks cautiously while I turn around and start making his coffee, not bothering to ask him if he wants anything extra. He wants it black, and I’m not feeling like trying to get him to try anything today.

“I have no sex life and she has enough for the whole town. She’s trying to get me laid.”

“Wow, that’s gotta be the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” he mutters as I all but shove the drink at him.

“It’s Nona,” I snip, my cheeks burning from embarrassment. “She won’t be happy until I’ve knocked the cobwebs off my vagin—” Grant’s mid-sip as he sputters and coughs at my remark. “Oh please, Mr. Gray Sweatpants.” I sigh while handing him a paper towel.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he rasps between coughs while hitting his chest.

“You waiting for it to do a trick?” I state in probably the worst imitation of him. He is either not amused at all or so amused I’ve broken his face.

“Boy you’re awfully grumpy today,” he mutters, sipping his coffee again.

“Can you blame me!?” I cry while waving my hands around in frustration. “My loaner is totaled, and my car is still days from being done. Everyone is being an absolute butthead over this damn market thing. You’re walking around with muscles and naked skin. I’m freaking broke and living in the break room. I haven’t been invited to partake in a sex swing activity by anyone other than my grandmother . I need a thousand dollars, a plate of cheese fries and an orgasm and I’m not seeing any in my future!” I scream while smacking the snowflake I have taped on the cash register off and stepping on it.

“Uh, Grant?” The unfamiliar male voice makes me cringe as I look up and, who the hell is he? I want to cry as the large, blond man stands by the door, his dark brown eyes laser-focused on me.

“Dean, go to the market,” Grant nearly growls while his eyes pin me. There are far too many sets of eyes on me right now.

“Yeah but I wa—”

“Dean!” Grant barks and Dean leaves the shop.

“Who’s Dean?” I whisper while keeping eye contact with Grant.

“New hire.”

“Oh, he seems nice.” I keep my voice small as Grant walks toward me. He moves around the counter and I back up only to have him follow me until I’m against a wall.

“He’s not,” he states through gritted teeth, still staring intently at me. I feel my heart rate increasing to an alarming rate.

“That’s unfortunate.” Why am I still going with this conversation? Why did I tell him I needed cheese fries and an orgasm? I mean, I do. God, I need them both so bad. But now Grant knows. And his new hire. Jesus, this is going to be so bad if Dean is working with him at the Christmas Market. “Do you want me to apologize to Dean for my outburst?”

“No.”

“No? Then why are you glaring at me?”

“Because you keep saying his name and every time you do, I envision being far more violent than I have any right being.” The air whooshes from my lungs as my eyes go wide.

“Grant?” I manage out. I notice his chest is rising and falling faster than normal. “What are you thinking?”

“Things I shouldn’t think,” he admits with no hesitation as he steps closer into my space, forcing me to crane my neck.

“Tell me.” I shudder as his fingertips run up my arm.

“Why?” he mumbles—leaning in so his lips are against my ear. “What good would it do for you to know that I liked you staring at my cock? That the thought turned me on so much I got off to it in the shower? How will it help you to know that I want to consume you from lips to lips.” His finger trails over my lips, down to the front of my pants, causing heat to rush between my legs. “Tell me, Els, how is it going to help you to know that all I can think about right now is how fucking sinful you would look with your mouth falling open as moans escape you while your eyes glaze over in pleasure and roll back in your head as you pant my name from that needy little mouth.”

“Oh my God,” I whimper in need and it causes him to chuckle.

“Grant works just fine, sweetheart.” He pulls away from my ear and I stare at him in wonder. Is—does he really have feelings for me, too?

“Fuck it,” I whisper, reaching my hands to the collar of his shirt, pulling him into me. Our lips meet and I expect him to freeze, to pull away, but he doesn’t. Grant groans as he grips my jaw in one hand and my hair in his other as he devours my mouth.

“Fucking Christ,” he whimpers between our kisses.

“Elsie works just fine, sweetheart,” I pant and he chuckles lowly before plunging his tongue into my mouth. The whine I release is so needy and I don’t care, I am needy. I need Grant even more now than I did forty-five seconds ago.

His large, rough hands pull my tucked shirt from my pants before sliding them over my waist. My hips buck toward him, causing him to moan.

“Els,” he groans against my mouth. “Sweetheart, I—”

The doorbell chimes and Grant all but shoves himself away from me as…

“Ms. Shoemaker!” My voice is far too breathy as I say her name. The older pointed woman stares down her slender nose at me, her icy eyes full of judgment.

“Ah, so this is why you’ve been too busy to talk with me. I have been waiting at the square for you and one of the workers told me you were still here. I didn’t realize you were… entertaining.” Her wrinkled lips press together in annoyance.

“Ms. Shoemaker, as I stated before—”

“Interesting choice,” she interrupts, eyes still burning into Grant. “Going after this one when he’s to blame for David.” Grant’s entire body stiffens and I feel cold all over. “You know, my sweet granddaughter, Beth, still cries over him. Still wears that promise ring. I guess some move on faster than others. Well, have a good day.” Ms. Shoemaker spins on her heel and walks out of the shop.

Grant runs his hands over his scruffy face before moving them to the back of his neck and squeezing.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly. He shakes his head as if to rid himself of whatever he was thinking.

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse and distant.

“Grant, you know what she—”

“I got to go.” He’s firm and clipped as he moves toward the door. “I’m… I’m sorry about this. It was a stupid mistake.”

“A—A what? Grant, what about—”

“A mistake,” he repeats, firmer this time. “It will never happen again.” I stand in stunned, hurt silence as Grant walks out of my shop, leaving me alone.

We kissed. We kissed and it was the deepest connection I’ve ever felt with another person. And he says it’s a mistake.