Creature of Habit (Creature of Habit #1) (19 page)

Chapter 31

Grant

I lifted the phone handle and called the front desk. "Joyce, please send Ms. Chase into my office."
Now
, I wanted to add, because she was here and there was nothing more that I wanted than to be with her.

I opened the door and watched her walk down the hallway. My eyes roamed over her neck and wrists, landing instead on her slim waist and curvy hips. I blinked as she came closer and ushered her in. "Are you okay? Nothing happened, did it?"

"No, everything is fine. Something was delivered to the house by mistake so I brought it in. I didn't mean to worry you."

I looked at her sitting across from me, ignoring the curious looks from the employees who suddenly became very interested in the area near my office, and frowned. "We have couriers, you know, you didn't have to come down here. That’s not a short drive."

"I didn't mind. I wanted to see where you worked. It is an amazing office, beautiful, but I guess I wouldn't expect less."

The room was filled with her glorious aroma. I had the entire office filled with the scent of lemon, to replicate hers. I told myself I was doing it to desensitize myself but it was really so I could surround myself with something that reminded me of her. But now, with her actually in my office, I realized nothing compared to the real thing.

“Genevieve organized and designed the offices,” I explained. “She had this whole concept for an ‘open floor plan,’ to make me seem more approachable.”

“She’s very talented.”

Again, I fell for a loss of word. Talking to her in my home or in the car was one thing but having her here in my office, in front of other people proved overwhelming. I was very aware of how close I had let her get to me compared to anyone else.

"I had to drive your car to get here. I hope that’s okay?" she asked.

My eyes were drawn to her mouth but I forced myself to respond. "No, I told you that I would rather you be safe driving back and forth to work with me. I’m not entirely convinced your car could make the trip anyway.”

“My car is perfectly safe,” she said, defiantly. It was an argument we’d had before.

I fought back a smile. I had found I rather liked it when she was upset. Her face flushed and her heart beat quicker, she became infinitely irresistible. I caught myself provoking her on more than one occasion to see what reaction I would get. So far, she had yet to let me down.

I watched as recognition registered in her eyes, aware now that I was picking on her. She puffed her cheeks and lips out in a pout. I smirked back, leaning my elbows on my desk.

“Wow. Look at that, Nancy, I told you he wasn't gay….what I would give to have him look at me that way….”

The curse of enhanced senses meant the voices slipped through my consciousness from an employee in the outer office who had a full view of our interaction.

“I don't care what anyone says that girl is more than a personal assistant for sure…”

She was right. Somewhere along the line, Amelia and I had passed the position of employee to employer and had moved somewhere else. Exactly where, I hadn’t determined yet, but it wasn’t nearly as scandalous as my employee suggested. 

“Would you like a tour?” I asked, deciding that was an appropriate offer. “Genevieve made the break room terribly extravagant. I understand it’s quite the hit with the staff.”

She smiled, confirming my instincts. “I’d love to see everything.”

I stood, intentionally ignoring the outside voices. Amelia never failed to show an interest in my work. She never failed to show an interest in my life, my family. Ushering her out of the office, I plastered on a brave face. Rogue vampires and fledglings I could handle. This woman and an office full of prying eyes? Terrifying.

Chapter 32

Amelia

The streets whipped by as I rode in the passenger seat of the SUV. Casual day, of course. Grant sat next to me in jeans and one of his beloved T-shirts, Ben Folds, and a lightweight jacket. The funny thing about Grant was that although he was so private, so quiet, his behaviors were predictable. I often felt a false sense of familiarity.

We were quiet in the car, occasionally discussing some work to add to my schedule. During one of the quiet spells, his phone vibrated across the shelf by the stereo. He glanced at it quickly and pressed the mute button, ignoring the call.

He looked over at me and shrugged. I returned his vague gesture with a smile and said, "What are you working on today?"

Shifting his eyes to the road he answered, "I have some research to do. I'm a little behind on all the newspapers you’ve been bringing home for me and I need to go through some things. So I'll probably be locked in my study all day."

I studied the side of his face, completely fascinated by the fact his jaw and cheekbones had perfect symmetry. His cheeks were smooth and I noted he never looked like he needed to shave, regardless of the time of day. Knowing Grant, he probably shaved and showered twenty times to keep germs at bay. I really had no clue what he did up in his hidey-hole.

“What do you do with all of those anyway? All that data I enter?”

His hesitation was brief but I caught it. “I like to keep statistics on the surrounding communities to see what the true needs are for residents. Crime, poverty, housing numbers…it helps me keep focused. Many groups come to the Palmer Foundation looking for grants and funding, but often they are not reflective of the neediest.”

“That’s really wonderful,” I said, and it explained a lot about the strange statistics I’d been entering for over a month now.

His phone vibrated and he clicked it off again, not even bothering to look at the number. Although I didn't expect an answer, I quirked an eyebrow at him in question. It was obvious he was avoiding someone.

Seeing my expression he sighed and admitted, "It's my family."

"And you don't want to talk to them?"

He hesitated, clenching and unclenching his grip on the steering wheel. "No, not particularly.”

I kept my mouth shut, not pushing further because I was still testing my limits. I found that Grant was more likely to share information about himself if I listened, rather than if I pushed.

His mouth opened and shut once or twice and as he began to speak, his phone vibrated once more. We both looked down at the phone and he grunted unhappily. Through gritted teeth he said, "Yes?"

Suddenly the car became very small and I attempted to make myself busy for a moment by reaching into my bag and pretending to look for something. This lasted about twenty seconds before I realized I had eight pens from my desk stashed in my purse and little else.

He listened for a moment to the swiftly moving voice on the other end and said, "No."

He managed, quite amazingly, to keep one hand on the wheel and the other on the phone yet still have that hand clutching his hair while he listened to the voice on the other end. I marveled at his impressive motor skills.

"No. You know that is not acceptable,” he said, glancing at me. "Fine. I'll be there in a couple of hours." He disconnected and placed the phone back in the cubby.

We sat in tense silence after the call. Grant turned up the music and I stared out the window, wondering if I had forced that issue. I felt like he answered the phone because of my intrusion and now he had to do something he didn't want to.

He cleared his throat and said, "So, I won't be home today after all."

I nodded, understanding this from his side of the phone call. I gave him a weak smile and said, "I'm sorry. You knew better than to answer the call and you only answered because of me."

His knuckles flexed white on the wheel and he said, "No. Not really. I was avoiding the inevitable. It was only a matter of time."

We approached his neighborhood and he drove down the back alley to his garage, his hand swiftly reaching up to press the garage door opener. He pulled in but didn't close it behind him as I expected. He walked me into the kitchen. I put away my lunch while he hovered near the back door.

"I left the list on your desk,” he said. “But just so you’re aware, Olivia will be here in forty-five minutes. You're welcome to ignore her."

I studied his face. He looked defeated, a look that didn’t suit him. I took a step forward and asked, "Is it really that bad? Going home?"

He closed the distance, marginally, but it was there. We stood across from one another and I searched for his eyes, having to bend over a little, since they were cast down. I waited and when he finally met my own they looked darker, stressed. When he spoke, it came out unwavering. "Going home isn't bad. Going home, for me, is simply hard."

With that he nodded and turned on his heel, leaving me in the wake of his distinct scent. As with most conversations with Grant Palmer, I had more questions than answers.

~*~

Olivia showed up thirty minutes later with a hot cup of coffee from my favorite café. She let herself in the back door, having her own key.

"That was fast," I said, taking the cup from her and feeling the welcome warmth against my fingers. "Grant said forty five minutes
and
you stopped to get this."

She smiled. "I may have left a little earlier than he thought."

Leaning back on the counter I eyed her suspiciously. "So you knew he would go home before he did?"

Olivia shrugged. "Grant is a bit predictable." I nodded at this, having had the same thought earlier. "I knew Miles was calling him today so I decided to go ahead and come down. Grant can say no to me or the others but not to Miles." She grinned. "I wanted to come see you anyway."

I smiled at this idea. Olivia wanted to be my friend and I wanted to be her friend, too. I told her I had some work to do at my desk and to my dismay, she said she needed to tackle Grant's closet. This idea made me uncomfortable at best.

"Really? I don't know, Olivia. He is going to be really upset with me if he comes home and you’ve messed with his stuff.” I imagined his angry, tense face after I already made him cave to the phone call this morning.

"Amelia, I’m in charge of his wardrobe. Has he not told you this?"

“No, but that explains a lot.” I stared her down, arms crossed and everything, in an attempt to stop this before it got too far.  "It’s just…ugh, fine. But you're taking the blame for it when he gets mad. Understand?"

“Perfectly.”

An hour later, she’d convinced me to help and we were both knee-deep in all the clothing Olivia had deemed unacceptable. She had some sort of system that involved sorting items into ’classics’, which we would put in storage, and ‘never again’, which would get donated to the luckiest Goodwill store in North Carolina.

“The Palmer foundation should set up some kind of used clothing store,” I said, eyeing the enormous pile of brand-new clothes she was giving away.

“Amelia!” Olivia gasped. “That is an amazing idea.”

“I was sort of kidding.”

“Kidding or not, it’s fabulous. Genevieve will love it.”

She went back to her current task, meticulously removing and sorting the photos in the wardrobe books. She was very much like Grant, graceful hands, quick movements. I never would have guessed they were not blood-related. "Grant told me about you all sort of finding one another in the group home Miles started.”

“He told you that?” she asked, eyebrow quirked slightly.

“A little. He told me about Sebastian and Ryan. He also revealed that Genevieve wasn’t just his PA but also part of the family.”

“Wow, he really opened up to you.”

“Is that surprising?”

She snorted. “Big time. Grant is the most private person I know. Like he never tells anyone anything. Not even us. I’m impressed.”

“At what?”

“You,” she said. “You’ve accomplished a major feat.”

“I doubt it’s that big of a deal. I think I drive him a little crazy with all the questions and nagging.” I shrug. “I’m not trying to be nosy. He’s just an interesting person and it gets lonely working by myself all the time.”

She paused, seeming to consider her next comment carefully. I looked down at the shirt I was folding, taking care to keep the edges clean even though it was going in the charity box. "Miles took us all in knowing we each had a difficult past. Abandoned, abused or orphaned. Miles showed us a new way of life and we were really lucky to have one another to bond with. Even so, Grant has always had a difficult time sharing himself with others, so if he trusts you, then it’s a really big deal.”

"Can I ask a question about him?"

"Yes. You can ask, although I can't promise to answer,” she replied carefully.

I picked up another shirt and smoothed it on the floor, pushing out the creases. Olivia waited patiently as I formed my question. "If you’re all so close then why does he spend so much time avoiding you? I know you're aware he dodges your calls and is hesitant to have you visit. Other than Genevieve, I've only met you and Elijah. No one else has come to the house."

“Oh, we know he avoids us. Grant had to make some difficult choices in his life. We’re happy right now in our little spot on the mountain. Living the life we’ve built. Grant wanted more than that. He’s always been a little bit of an outsider. He likes his private time if you haven’t noticed.” She laughed. “He loves us. But he can't live with us."

“What about, you know, other relationships? Does he have any of those?”

“That’s one of the questions I can’t answer. You should ask him.”

“No thanks.” I noticed her eyebrow lift, intrigued. I quickly added, "I want him to be happy. Once you get past the angry CEO thing, he can be pretty charming. Some guy is really going to be lucky to have him one day."

I stood up and took some empty hangers back to the racks to use later. My back was to Olivia and I knew my face was bright red. I hated to admit it, but I found myself more and more attracted to Grant every day, which was wrong on so many levels. The greatest was the fact he was my boss. Then there was the problem of him being gay. The whole thing made me feel pathetic and humiliated.

I heard Olivia shift behind me. The tension in the cluttered closet escalated from my discomfort. "Amelia, I'm going to tell you something because my cousin is possibly the most stubborn, control-freakish person you will ever meet. He takes everything to the extreme and nothing will ever make him change his mind once he sets it."

I took a deep breath, listening to the clank of metal against metal as I placed the hangers on the rack. I couldn't help but wonder what on earth she could want to tell me and why she felt the need to continue this conversation. Did she know I was attracted to him? This whole situation was beyond embarrassing.

I had no choice but to deny any attraction or feelings for Grant. I would let her say whatever it was she had on her mind and we would laugh at his need for a date with some ridiculously hot guy and we would move on. Bracing myself, I turned and found her right behind me looking up into my eyes.

"Amelia. There is something about my cousin you need to know." Her tone was very serious. So serious a flare of butterflies burst in my stomach. "Grant is not gay."

“Um…what?”

“He’s not gay.”

Oh.

I tossed these words around a couple of times as Olivia stood in front of me with a mixture of concern and anticipation on her face. It was possible she thought I was having a seizure because I had no idea what to say about the information she had just shared.

Grant is not gay. Grant is not gay. Of course he was.

"Olivia, Grant told me he was gay," I corrected.

Her perfectly arched eyebrows knitted together. “No. From what I understand you determined that he was gay and he didn't deny it."

I gaped at her and said, "But, what man doesn't deny he's gay if he isn't gay?"

"Welcome to the world of Grant Palmer. Tickets to the freak show are on your left."

I felt my face grow hotter than before and I found myself cross-legged on the ground. When I spoke next, it was a tad strangled and embarrassed. "Okay, if he isn't gay. Then what is he?  Because there is something definitely something different about your cousin."

"You're right. He's not normal. He is sweet and loyal, and absolutely a gentleman. He cares so much about his family to the point it pains him. He works non-stop, carrying the burdens of others on his shoulders." She paused and looked me straight in the eye and continued, "And he is alone, and lonely, and because of that he puts up barriers so he won't get hurt."

I nodded, pretending to understand, but not quite sure I followed. She must have sensed my confusion. "Amelia, you are the first person in many years who has broken down his shell and even seen there is something behind the exterior."

I swallowed hard and nervously pushed my hair behind my ear. "What does that mean, Olivia? He's my boss. And yes, I do like him, I really do, but what do you want me to do?"