Page 46 of Calling the Shots

“Besides, I didn’t have much of a choice. The way you have me pinned down here.” I pretend to try to wriggle out of her grasp and she flexes her arm muscles, squeezing me like a boa constrictor.

She giggles and the sound washes over me like a gentle ocean wave. I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in ages.

I didn’t think I could do this again. But here we are.

Her delicate fingers feather over my bare chest, sending tiny sparks over the entire surface of my skin, and my dick twitches beneath the sheets.

“Well, good morning.” Gracelyn reaches down and strokes me, her eyes glimmering as she teases me. “This is the perk of the sleepover, you know.”

“In that case, you’ve convinced me to move in,” I joke, caressing her round ass.

I really could get used to this.

“Whoa, there, cowboy. Nobody said anything about moving in.” She pops up and straddles my hips, dipping her head down and kissing me on the lips. Soft and slow, her mouth moves over mine as I massage her bare bottom.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Gracelyn breaks away to silence her alarm. “Shit, it’s late. I have to get to work.”

“Too bad. Because I had much better plans for you.” I squeeze her ass and she shakes her head.

“Sounds more promising than Mrs. Humphries’s full color I have scheduled. But my mom will be pissed if I’m late. Would you mind giving me a ride to work? My car’s still at Mustang’s.”

“Sure. You want to pick up your car?”

“No time.” She rolls off me, already buzzing around the room getting ready. “I’ll worry about it later. I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Her head disappears into the closet, so I take that as my cue, climbing out of bed and gathering up my clothes.

Remarkably, she only takes eight. I pegged her as more high maintenance, seeing as how she always looks stunning. But she flits around and gets ready in record time. She locks the front door and I loop my arm around her waist as we walk out to my truck.

The movement’s natural, instinctive, and the realization hits me hard straight in the chest. Much as I’ve been fighting all things relationship, she’s a perfect fit beneath my arm.

“What’s on tap for you today?” She glances over the console and something inside me shifts, unlocks.

I want to be with this woman. Spend time with her, find out what she likes, what makes her tick.

I want to make her laugh and smile.

I want to make her happy.

But instead of going sappy on her, I drum my fingers on the worn leather steering wheel and play it cool.

“Not much. Figure I’ll work on fixing the salon chair.”

Her full, glossy lips break into a smile. “Okay, good. My mother will be happy about that. She’s super concerned we don’t have enough seating. Not sure why, considering I book the appointments and make sure we never need to use the eggplant throne—that’s what I call it …”

Her hands fly through the air as she explains the situation and I can’t help but chuckle.

“What? Why are you laughing?” She scrunches up her nose, scowling.

“Nothing. You’re cute is all. Did you always want to be a hairstylist?”

She nods. “Yeah. Well, mostly. I went through a phase in the fourth grade where I was obsessed with animals and wanted to be a veterinarian. Then a kid told me about his dog having cancer and taking him to the vet to get put down. Changed my mind real quick.”

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