“How about I pick you up … uh, let’s say about four o’clock?”
“That sounds fine. I’ll be outside so you don’t have to park.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when I’m close so you don’t have to linger outside too long. See you then.”
She hung up, then stared at her phone.
Clearly, there was something wrong with her. Normally, she had no problem saying no to men. She said no all the time, because she got asked out all the time. She’d said no politely, and not so politely, depending on who was asking. She was an expert at turning men down.
But for some reason, she hadn’t yet figured out how to say no to Grant Cassidy.
Maybe she should stop thinking of all the reasons to say no. Maybe she’d let her fears guide her for too long. Grant was gorgeous and hot, and of all the men she’d ever been tempted by, he was the most—
Tempting.
She’d thought a lot about her conversation with Savannah, about having some fun.
Grant could definitely be fun. Not a forever thing, but a temporary fling. Or at least a gorgeous man to hang out with.
There was absolutely nothing threatening about that.
THIRTEEN
AFTER HE’D GOTTEN OFF THE PHONE WITH KATRINA, Grant had spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning his house.
The place was a wreck. As a bachelor, he didn’t much care what it looked like on most days, unless his parents were coming for a visit. Then he usually brought in a cleaning service to scour the place from top to bottom, because if there was one thing his mom didn’t stand for, it was a messy house. When he’d lived at home, as soon as you were old enough to hold a broom in your hand, empty trash, or do dishes, you had a chore, and it didn’t matter if you were a guy or a girl. Mom wanted everyone to grow up and be able to fend for themselves. Even cooking.
He was grateful he’d been taught to cook, though he’d sworn when he’d stood at the stove and was taught to make pasta sauce that someday he was going to eat takeout every single night for the rest of his natural life. That lasted until he’d eaten takeout for two weeks straight. Didn’t take him long to figure out that fast food every night got boring fast and maybe his mother was smarter than he’d ever given her credit for.
But he’d never really grabbed the virtue of keeping the house neat. He had a cleaning lady come in once every two weeks so mold didn’t grow in places it wasn’t supposed to. Otherwise, he threw his dirty socks on the floor and dishes tended to pile up. When he ran out of usable dishes, he washed them. It was a system that worked for him, and unless he had someone coming over, who cared, right?
Like today, with Katrina. It had been a week since the cleaning service had been to the house so he was going to have to do it himself.
So he’d scrubbed the toilets and wiped down the counters in the bathrooms, loaded the dishwasher, and thoroughly cleaned the kitchen, then vacuumed the entire house, picking up everything that he’d carelessly tossed in all the wrong places.
It had taken him a couple of hours, and by then he was a sweaty filthy mess, which he’d already been after working in the garage, so he’d taken a shower and put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then hopped in his car to pick up Katrina at her hotel.
He called her on his way over and she was waiting outside as they’d arranged. Her hair was down and she wore a sundress that showed off miles of gorgeous leg, and he was struck again by how beautiful she was. She was leaning against the valet desk, casually smiling and chatting with some dark-haired kid who couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen.
The kid was obviously trying not to swallow his tongue as Katrina tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a simple gesture, yet the kid’s gaze tracked the movement like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen in his young life.
Grant understood the appeal. Everything about Katrina was pretty damn riveting, and she did have an ear he’d like to tug on with his teeth.
He got out of the car and waved off the valet, no doubt crushing the kid’s dreams.
Too bad. He could go get his own girl. This one was his date for the night.
Katrina turned when Grant approached.
“Sorry. I was talking to Gregori here. He and his family emigrated from Russia just two years ago. I was practicing my very rusty Russian on him. Thank you again, Gregori. And best of luck to you in college.”
Gregori nodded, and Grant watched the kid swallow nervously, smile, and walk away.
Poor kid. He might not ever recover from meeting Katrina. Then again, it might be something he remembered forever. Grant gave the kid a wink and a smile.
From the same country or not, the kid was still ogling the hell out of her.
He led Katrina to his car, opened the door and waited for her to slide in.
He put the car into gear and pulled away, onto the street, heading onto the highway.
Katrina was quiet, looking out the window, so he told her a little about the city.
“You’re not from here,” she said.
“No. My family’s from Texas. My parents have a ranch there. I grew up in Green Bay, where my dad played football. In the off-season we lived on the ranch.”
“I see. But you live here, right?”
“Yeah. When I signed with St. Louis during my rookie year, I fell in love with this city. I bought my house the year I made the team.”
She pulled her gaze from the window. “How long ago was that?”
“Six years ago.”
She nodded. “From what I’ve seen, it’s a very nice city. A lot of space here.”