18. Grace

Chapter 18

Grace

This was unbelievable. Alexander Clarke was kissing me.

When he arrived last night, I thought he'd been motivated by worry tinged with pity. When he settled in for the movie, curling me into the crook of his arm, I thought he was lonely on a Saturday night. When he held me tenderly while I cried, I assumed I'd wake up alone.

But he stayed.

I'd woken abruptly, startled by his snoring. Once I'd settled my racing pulse, assuring my overactive amygdala that there wasn't a freight train in my apartment, I'd appreciated his face in the faint beams of moonlight sneaking through my curtain. His skin was smooth, the tight worry lines around his mouth less pronounced.

His long eyelashes fluttered softly as he slept, and I wondered what a man like Alex Clarke would dream about. Would he be steeped in memories, focused on his future, or caught somewhere in the ether?

I drifted back off with his arm wrapped around my waist, enjoying a night of the safety and warmth of not sleeping alone.

When he woke, I'd expected him to make an excuse and leave right away, but he'd lingered in my bed. He'd coaxed me to join him and confessed that he wanted to kiss me … but he didn't know if I felt the same. How could he not know how completely kissable he was?

So I kissed him.

I ran my hands through his thick mane of hair, brushing it off his forehead like I'd wanted to do when I first laid eyes on him. I let my hands rest at the nape of his neck, twirling the hair there, as my tongue danced over his lip, causing a quick inhale of his breath. I did it again, eliciting a low moan.

His hand gripped tighter in the fabric of the shirt at my waist, showing his restraint. I'd leaned on him the whole way out of the tree farm last night, and he'd carried me to bed … I wondered if he thought I was fragile.

Did he think I couldn't handle more?

He would be wrong. I wanted more. Needed more.

He tilted his head and I used the opportunity to slip my tongue between his lips, which he eagerly parted to welcome me. I quickly brushed his tongue then retreated, and when his chased after mine greedily, I laughed softly. I smiled against his mouth and when I felt his lips curl up in reaction, I wanted to pull away, to finally get a glimpse of that elusive smile …

But that desire was outpaced by the need to be closer. When I touched my toe to his shin, he winced at the cold before wrapping his top leg over mine and pulling me into his warmth. My hand at his neck tugged him closer and he leaned forward for a firm kiss, flattening his palm over my ribs to close the gap between our bodies. I reacted eagerly, my nipples skimming his chest.

"Alex," I moaned, still disbelieving that he was here in my bed. I lifted my hand from his neck and met his palm on my ribs, sliding it up to rest over the swell of my breast. Through my yoga shirt, his thumb flicked my pebbled nipple and my back arched into his hand, pressing my hips forward into his, feeling his firm erection through his boxers. When he groaned at the contact, I shifted my hips again, opening my eyes to watch his head tilt back, his mouth panting.

My hand returned to his cheek and his eyes opened, looking wild. "Shit, Gracie," he breathed, squeezing my nipple between his nimble fingertips, causing my hips to buck into his. "You're so fucking hot, it's unbelievable."

Then he was kissing along my jaw. I tilted my head back to give him access to my neck and after lingering on my pulse point, he shifted down to kiss along my collarbone, trailing the hem of my tank top.

Annoyed at the built-in bra blocking his path, I pulled the strap down to reveal my breast. He took it as a welcome invitation to palm the mound while his mouth licked and sucked my nipple, his moans sending vibrations straight to my core. I arched into his warm touch, wrapping my hand around the back of his head as my whole body thrummed with desire.

My pulse beat in my ears, breathing between desperate sweeps of his tongue, gripping his shoulders, and holding his head in place at my chest. The room filled with my whimpers, ringing with the melodious chirping of —

"Shit," I breathed, releasing my palm from his hair as I turned to the kitchen when the oven timer insistently beeped.

He removed his lips from my breast with a coy grin. "Did you just swear ?"

"The eggs are going to burn," I moaned, ignoring his teasing.

"Fuck the eggs," he said against the sensitive skin of my chest as he wrapped his mouth back around my breast and flicked his tongue over my nipple.

"We have to eat before class," I moaned, nearly breathless.

He licked along my skin and murmured, "I'll do intermittent fasting today."

I laughed and tugged his hair slightly to pull him back, then raised the strap of my shirt back up my shoulder and slid out from under the covers."Well, I have to eat before teaching. So I guess I get all your huevos rancheros,"

"Don't you dare," he said, sitting up and leaning against the bed's headboard.

I felt his eyes on me as I walked to the kitchen. "You coming?"

"I need a minute … or a cold shower." He gestured to the blanket over his lap

When I bent over to pull the dish out of the oven, he corrected, "Nope, it's definitely going to have to be a cold shower."

"Make it quick, I need to leave in 20 minutes for yoga class. Are you coming?"

He arched a brow. "If I come, can we pick up where we left off afterwards?"

My cheeks flushed at the sexy look on his face, and I suddenly felt shy as I nodded. He brought the flat of his hand to press down over the blankets, and said, "If you keep looking so sweet, then the cold shower might not be enough."

"Towels are under the sink," I said as I took my first bite of eggs made from the leftover burritos he'd brought the previous night.

When he stood, his boxers strained with his erection as he stretched his arms overhead, then paused briefly for a deep laugh.

When I looked alarm and wiped my mouth in case he was laughing at crumbs, he looked me over, head to toe. "I don't think I've been this worked up from making out with a beautiful girl since I was in high school. This town does weird things to me."

I tried not to think of his visit to my apartment as a high schooler, when he'd had unmemorable sex with a woman whose name he couldn't remember. But before I could wonder if soon I'd be another forgotten notch on his bedpost, he veered off his path to the bathroom, bent to kiss me on the cheek, and murmured, "You make me feel young, Gracie."

At the bottom of the stairs, we both reached for the keys to the truck. I'd let him drive it last night, the first person to sit behind the wheel and put it into gear in eight years … but that didn't mean —

"Please? I haven't driven a manual transmission in years, I forgot how much I love it."

I imagined the last time he'd driven stick, probably a convertible down the Pacific Coast Highway with the wind in his hair and a gorgeous redhead next to him wearing oversized sunglasses and a glamorous scarf like a Hollywood icon.

It felt strange that he was excited about driving my Silverado … but his eyes held such boyish excitement that I let him take the keys.

A light flurry of snow dotted the window as he reversed out of the driveway, giving me time to ogle his aunt's dreamy Victorian house. I let out a wistful sigh at its beauty before I asked, "So how many questions do you have?"

He arched his brow mischievously. "Hundreds."

"We've got time for one, maybe two. Better make them count."

He tilted his head back and forth, weighing his options. His gaze landed on Yolanda, who shimmied her grass skirt at him. He muttered about the truck's Patronus, then said, "When Mallory said you're the only one who drives your truck, you blamed the transmission. "

I tensed in anticipation but decided to play it lightly, correcting him like a Jeopardy contestant: "Please phrase it in the form of a question."

He smirked, shifting gears. "Why don't you let anybody drive your truck?"

I opened the glove box and rooted past a bunch of stuff Mallory had stashed: pale pink lipstick, vegan Takis Fuego, a pleasure pack of condoms, and for some inexplicable reason, a kaleidoscope. Conveniently, looking for those papers meant I could avoid his eyes as I said, "After my dad kicked me out, I petitioned the judge for a sealed name change."

"Sealed name change, smart," he said casually, knowing that most court-approved name changes have to be listed in public records unless there's a threat to the person's privacy.

"The paperwork was a nightmare. I got almost everything changed over."

At a red light, I handed two papers to Alexander: my name change court order and the truck's registration with two names listed: Elijah Heywood listed above my dead name.

Alex nodded in understanding: If another driver got pulled over and the cops ran the plates, they might need to contact my brother. As far as I knew, the truck had never been reported as stolen, but …

"So you don't let anybody else drive it," he said with a cocky grin, "except me."

"Except you," I repeated, tucking the paperwork away. "Plus if you got pulled over, the cop would let you off."

His crooked grin grew. "What makes you assume that?"

Cishet white men really didn't get it, did they?

"You're you, Alex. You'd give that cop hell. By the time you were done chewing him out, he'd be paying you a fine for the inconvenience."

His head tilted back into a big, throaty roar of laughter as he pulled into a parking spot behind the yoga studio. When his legs tilted to me, his expression was soft. "The sealed name change was smart, to make yourself untraceable to your dad. But what if people want to find you and can't?"

In the two days between when Dad kicked me out and when he disconnected my phone from the family plan, nobody called me. Not my mom, or grandma, or any of my brothers. Dad declared that I was no longer a member of their family, and they all followed suit .

"Grace, you always talk so fondly about Elijah. What if he's looking for you?"

I shifted uncomfortably. I didn't realize I talked about Elijah that much.

I didn't realize Alex had been paying attention.

It's not like I hadn't considered it. For the first year, it had been hard to stop considering it. Maybe Elijah would have been supportive … but maybe not.

When I said goodbye to him at the airport, I thought it would only be for our junior year. Eight months apart felt like it would be torture. Now eight years had passed. I had no idea when he tapped the roof of our truck and told me to keep it in good shape for him that we might never see each other again.

"I could call him," Alex offered. My breath hitched as my hand reached to wrap around the door handle. He quickly added, "Not today. But I could use the firm's resources to get his number, then fake a problem with the truck to find out how he reacts."

The offer landed like a blow to the stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

Alex could call Elijah. He would stay professional and detached, not share personal details, but he'd know what to listen for in his response. If my brother was supportive, Alex would tell me.

"He wouldn't be hard to track down," he murmured, probably already planning what he'd say on the call.

But what if Elijah hated me? Would it hurt more to know?

"Thank you, but no. Plenty of people don't talk to their siblings. I've gotten used to it." He gave me a look like he didn't believe me. "Like Mallory. Before this month, when was the last time you two talked?"

"That's not the same."

"Or Nick. When was the last time you called him?"

"He films on location, or he's at awards shows and red carpet events, he —"

"He calls your mom every Sunday."

His mouth snapped shut. Wow, I'd effectively shut up Alexander Clarke.

Feeling buoyed, I added, "I bet if you called him, he'd answer."

"You want to bet me?" he said, a spark in his eyes. "What are your terms?"

My mind went blank. I'd meant it as an expression, not an invitation.

When he smirked, I knew I was in trouble. "Want some negotiating tips?"

"Ok, master negotiator," I forced an eye roll .

"Anchor high with an initial offer, but give enough wiggle room for a counter offer. If you start with the wrong offer and they say no, you have to walk away. So if I win …" he tapped the steering wheel, "you have to make a whole tray of peppermint bark, just for me."

Of course he'd go with something sweet. "I'd make that for you anyway."

"I know you would, that's why it's a good initial bid," he said with a knockout grin. "Your turn. What's the thing you want most from me?"

I wanted him to kiss me. But if I lost, would he refuse on principle? He seemed like the type to cut off his nose — or more accurately, his lips — to spite his face.

Wracking my mind, I looked up at the yoga studio. Cruz's first self-defense class followed mine, and I was nervous.

"If I win — no when I win, because your brother will totally take your call," I said, and he smirked proudly at my confidence, "You have to come to yoga and self-defense class today."

"You drive a hard bargain, Alvarez." He held out his hand. "Deal?"

"Deal," I said, shaking his hand. He clicked his brother's name and put it on speaker. As it rang two times, then three, he said smugly, "I want the candy canes finely ground, no chunks." But in his eyes, I saw a hint of disappointment.

"Alex, hey, is everything ok?" Nick sounded panicked. "Is Dad alright?"

Hearing his voice was jarring. I knew theoretically that their brother Nick was the actor Dominic Martin. But somehow, until I heard him say Alex's name and ask about Bruce, it hadn't connected that his voice would sound the same talking to his brother as it did on his popular show or in luxury car commercials.

"Everybody's fine," Alex said to an exhale of relief. "I lost a bet."

"You lost a bet?" his brother sounded confused, then said in a teasing tone, "Alexander James Clarke lost a bet?"

"First time for everything," Alex muttered.

"What was the bet? Wait … did you bet that I wouldn't answer?" Alex grunted noncommittally. "Let me get this straight: my own brother — my flesh and blood — bet against me?"

"You're busy."

"Busy schooling my assistant in chess, because even though we've played a million games, he still neglects his pawn structure. "

From the background came a protest, then a muffled, "You have so many pawn islands, it's practically Indonesia." Then back to Alex, he sighed: "What I wouldn't give for a game with Victoria, she could hold her own."

Wait, Victoria? The Victoria who called Alex about work?

The one who Mallory said might be his girlfriend?

That Victoria played chess … with Nick, the movie star?

I stiffened, but Alex didn't notice. "I'll tell her how much you miss her."

"Don't bother, we talked last week. I had a real estate question," Nick said casually as Alex's shoulders tensed. "So what were the terms of this bet?"

"I have to go to two yoga classes now," he grumbled, without sharing that we were already in the parking lot before we made the bet.

"At Mallory's studio?" Nick's voice rose half an octave. "Wait, did you bet Mal? That sounds like the start of a cage match."

"No, the bet's with Grace."

"Mallory's Grace?"

Alex scowled. He said gruffly, "She's my friend too."

"Aww, Lex, you made a friend!" Nick said in a patronizing tone that I hadn't expected. He'd garnered a reputation as a thespian and Mallory and Kate's conversations implied he was quiet and restrained … but it turned out that Nick had his brother's number, just like Elijah always knew exactly how to tease me.

When Alex's cheeks flushed, I couldn't hold back my laughter.

"Wait, is Grace there? Am I on speaker?"

"She's here," Alex said with a wicked grin. "Say hi, Grace."

Oh geez, talking to a freaking movie star was not part of this bet.

"Hi, Nick," I said shyly. I could feel the heat rising my neck and onto my cheeks. Alex's gaze tracked it, then snagged on my mouth.

Between these two Clarke brothers, I might spontaneously combust. Then the police would call Elijah to report my charred remains in his stolen truck.

"Listen, class is about to start so we've gotta go," Alex said, then added snarkily, "Way to make me look bad, Nick."

"It is my most sincere pleasure," Nick chuckled. "Hey Grace, thank you for believing in me even when my smug brother doesn't. And Alex? Next time, you don't have to lose a bet to call me."