Inappropriate - Vi Keeland Page 0,52
She waved her hand at us. “Carry on. Pretend I’m not here. I’m going to bed, anyway.”
Grant extended a hand and helped me from the floor.
“I assumed you were sleeping at Christian’s,” I said.
“Nah. I’m making him stay celibate for the two weeks before our wedding.”
I laughed. “Poor Christian. A bridezilla that won’t put out.”
Mia stuck her tongue out at me. “Goodnight, lovebirds.”
Once she was gone, I sat back down on the couch next to Grant. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. Probably a good thing she walked in. You want to take it slow, and between the way you looked tonight in that dress, knowing you have a porn collection, and that kiss, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself much longer. I think that was my cue to get going.”
I wanted to tell him to stay in the worst way, tell him to come back to my room with me and I’d show him all the techniques I’d picked up from watching those videos. But he was right. If things didn’t slow down, I would be the one to get hurt. That much I knew.
So I nodded. “Okay. Thank you again for coming with me. Would you…be my date for the wedding next Saturday night?”
He leaned over and planted a kiss on my lips. “I’d love that.”
I walked him to the door and opened it, but stalled at saying goodbye. “Where is your trip this week?”
“The east coast.”
“Okay. Text me if you have time.”
His eyes roamed my face. “I’ll make time.”
My stomach did a little somersault. The oddest things gave me that warm, mushy feeling. Grant kissed me goodnight, and I smiled and shut the door. But a few seconds later, there was a knock again. Just like last time, I figured he’d forgotten something.
“Miss me already?” I teased.
“If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, there’s a party at Pia’s Place.”
“Oh? Your mom’s charity?”
“Yeah. The main office is over in Glendale. They host a few parties a year for the kids and their Bigs. Tomorrow is Christmas in July. It’s a holiday-themed carnival. My grandmother suckered me into working it, but I just found out I should be finished by about two.”
I smiled. “That sounds great.”
Grant nodded. “I’ll text you the address.”
After I shut the door again, I thought about the evening. One part stuck out. I’d told him I could see myself easily falling for him. Which was sort of a lie. I already was.
Chapter 19
* * *
Ireland
I hadn’t expected a party this big. I’m not sure why, but I’d envisioned a few dozen people, a makeshift petting zoo, and a cotton candy machine. But there were hundreds of people milling around, a pretty big Ferris wheel, street-style vendor carts all over the place, and Christmas-themed performers.
I walked around for a while and checked things out, but Grant was nowhere in sight. A woman approached me holding literature. She smiled. “Are you a Big? I don’t think we’ve met yet.”
“Oh no. I’m not part of the program.”
She held out a pamphlet. “I’m Liz, the director here at Pia’s Place.”
“Hi. I’m Ireland. I’m actually meeting someone here.”
“Oh, okay. Well, it’s a great program. Can’t hurt to check out the information. I think you’d find it very rewarding.”
I took the pamphlet. “Thank you.”
“My number is on the back, if you have any questions. Have a great afternoon. Enjoy the carnival.”
She started to walk away, but I stopped her. “Liz, is there any chance you know Grant Lexington?”
“Of course.”
“Have you seen him around? I’m supposed to meet him here after two, but I can’t seem to find him.”
Liz smiled. “He got started late.” She looked over her shoulder a moment. “But it looks like he’ll be finishing up soon. The line is finally getting smaller.”
My brows furrowed. “Line?”
She pointed. “For Santa Claus.”
I looked over at the area I’d passed by twice and squinted, examining the people. Taking a long look at Santa Claus, my eyes widened. “Oh my God. Is that…”
Liz laughed. “Only his grandmother could get him into that getup. It’s the first time he’s playing Santa for us. His grandfather has played the part for the last twenty years. I guess they’re passing the baton.”
After Liz walked away, I stood watching from a distance. The man was certainly an enigma. He wore custom-tailored suits, made everyone sit up a little taller when he walked into a meeting, and had an abrupt, standoffish way about him. Yet here he was on a Sunday afternoon, wearing a Santa suit and lifting kid after