Strong and Steady - Vanessa Vale Page 0,40

you asked me out.

I grinned, remembering my words. Whatever angst lingered from the shit with my dad slipped away as I typed.

Gray: It is if you say yes. Otherwise, it's a not-date.

I put on my seat belt.

Emory: I will be in my scrubs and gross, so I will want a redo.

I shook my head and shut my eyes briefly at her humor.

Gray: You can have a redo. Definitely. As many as you want.

I didn’t hear from her right away, so I set off for my appointment. She was at work and probably on some kind of quick break, so I didn't expect to hear from her right away. But five minutes later, my cell pinged again. I pulled into a strip mall lot to read the text.

Emory: I forgot. Someone is bringing me dinner. Long story. Come over at 7:30.

Later, when I walked up the sidewalk to her place a few minutes early, I knew the man and the boy sitting on Emory’s steps were part of the long story.

12

EMORY

Not used to attractive men waiting for me on my steps, I stopped short as I walked up the sidewalk toward my house. I couldn’t help but ogle the two men sitting there. Gray leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. The other man I’d never met but was most likely Jackson’s uncle. The boy sat on the step above, and the family resemblance was strong. Jackson’s hands waved in the air, animated and lively as he talked. While the man was focused on his nephew, Gray watched me as I approached, and I felt the familiar flutter at the sight of him. I was becoming used to the sensation, and I wasn’t afraid of it any longer. He was so relaxed, so at ease. So flippin’ hot in his cowboy hat. And he was here for me. Watching me. Taking a deep breath, I walked toward them once again. His dark eyes raked over me, from my work clogs to my scrubs all the way to my messy ponytail. I could only imagine what he thought of me dressed like this, in the outfit I considered man-repellant.

Gray stood, slipped his hands in his pockets. Once he saw me, Jackson’s uncle got to his feet as well. Jackson, too, only after a gentle nudge on the head.

“Hi, Miss Emory!” Jackson’s youthful exuberance had him knocking the men out of the way and jumping down three steps to give me a hug. The other men held back, clearly having learned about boundaries unlike the boy although I wouldn’t have minded if Gray grabbed me so eagerly. Over Jackson’s head, I glanced at him. His eyes gave away nothing about his feelings, but I hoped to discover them once we were alone.

I looked down at Jackson’s upturned face. “Hello. Have you been busy?” It was impossible not to smile at him.

His hair was mussed, and his cheeks were flushed. He wore shorts, T-shirt and sneakers once again. After spending the day in a well air-conditioned hospital, the air was hot. Already after seven, the temperature hadn’t dropped out of the eighties.

“I’m Frankie, Jackson’s uncle.”

The man came down the two steps at a much more sedate pace than his nephew and held out his hand, smiling. About six foot, he had the same black, curly hair as Jackson, yet his eyes were a pale blue. The contrast was quite striking with his olive complexion. Standing next to Gray, he was lanky, long legged, yet fit. He had the perfect build for a runner. I put him in his late twenties, and with his wicked smile, I could only imagine he had to fight off the ladies. Especially since he screamed biker like his father. Well-worn jeans, black leather boots, white T-shirt. Lots of tattoos. Wild about the edges. Rough. A total bad boy.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied. His grip was firm, his eyes were kind. “Do you have a biker nickname like your father?”

He grinned, and I had no doubt it made panties fall to the floor. “Road name? Sure, but you can just call me Frankie.”

I wasn’t sure if those things were a secret, and I didn’t ask. I nodded instead.

“We replaced your lights and dinner’s in the bag.” He pointed to a large brown grocery sack sitting by the front door. “While my father couldn’t be here, he asked me to give you his number. If you need anything, call.”

I glanced down at the book of matches he handed