Page 108 of Mr. Edwards
Hate is the last word I’d use in a sentence with the name Grayson Edwards, but I need to keep up the charade; if I don’t, Reece will become suspicious. He’d lose his shit if he knew what was really going on here.
I’ll admit in moments of weakness there have been times I’ve contemplated confessing everything to him, wondering if there was something he could do to help, but deep down I knew I couldn’t put him in a position like that. Not after everything he’s done for me. This is my mess and something I have to live with.
“Right,” Reece says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “That weepy face you’re sporting has hate written all overit.” He rounds the island and I see his eyes dart down to the fork I dropped when he came in. I go to reach for it, but his reflexes are faster than mine. He snatches it up before I can, and his eyes slightly widen when he reads the inscription. “Hate,” he scoffs. “Don’t think I didn’t see you hugging this thing when I came in. It’s from Grayson I presume?”
“Nope.” I lunge for it again, but he maneuvers his arm out of my reach.
“Liar. It’s not one of ours, and I’ve witnessed how lovesick that guy is for you. This has his name written all over it.”
He waves the fork in front of my face, and I have to stop myself from snatching it out of his hand and stabbing him in the arm with it.
“So what?”
“So,” he says, leaning forward, “I’ve never seen you hug my cutlery like that. That speaks volumes. When are you going to admit you still love him, Carlee?”
“Pfft. I wasn’t hugging it; I was wiping it on my shirt to remove the germs. And FYI I don’t have a weepy face. If you think that, you need to have your eyes tested.” He chuckles because he knows I’m full of shit. “Grayson Edwards is the number one dick on my dick list.”
“Okay,” he says, placing down the fork and holding up his hand to stop me from continuing. “I don’t want to hear that word coming out of your mouth.”
His frown makes me laugh. I still remember how awkward and downright mortified he was when I got my first boyfriend at sixteen. The poor guy was not only sweating, but squirming in his seat as he tried to give me the birds and the bees talk. He needn’t have bothered; I was already quite knowledgeable in that area. After all,I’d lived with Roxy for thirteen years. Her conquests were frequent, like a revolving door… a constant stream of live-in porn.
“Dick,” I repeat the word, and Reece’s disapproval is evident as he turns to walk away. “Dicks, dicks, dicks. Enormous dicks, teeny-tiny microscopic dicks, thick dicks, pencil dicks, gigantic, fat juicy dicks, a humongous bag of assorted dicks,” I yell to his retreating back, and he flips me the bird over his shoulder.
That’ll teach him to meddle in my life.
My stomach is in knots as I make my way downstairs to prepare for my little ninja class. I couldn’t even eat breakfast, which was a first for me. I love these kids and usually look forward to my time with them, but not today. I’ve been dreading it since Grayson showed up here on Thursday.
I head toward the storeroom, that’s situated next to Reece’s office, to collect the box that contains the thin, square, pine boards I’ll be using in today’s lesson. Pine is a soft wood and easy to break if you hit it with enough force. My kids are only small, but these boards are no thicker than a piece of cardboard. A local lumber guy makes them for us.
This class isn’t as strict as the others; it’s more about teaching the kids discipline and the basic karate moves, preparing them to rise through the ranks as they get older. We’ve been practicing our hand movements for the pastfew weeks, so today I’m going to be giving them their first test.
I head back out to the main arena once I have what I need. We don’t usually let the parents stay during class, it’s less of a distraction for the kids, but today being a test day, they’re invited to observe and take pictures of their child if they wish.
Last night Reece and I set up a row of chairs along the far wall so they had somewhere to sit.
Class isn’t starting for another twenty-five minutes, so my breath catches in my throat when I round the corner and find Grayson standing there waiting. He’s wearing his white Gi, which is pronounced ghee, and damn does he look sexy.
It’s compulsory that all our students wear the correct attire. It symbolizes spirit and readiness to train. Reece supplies the uniforms to the kids whose parents can’t afford them. He wants everyone to feel equal. Just another thing I love about that man. I remember how proud I was when he presented me with mine all those years ago. I wore it like a badge of honor. It made me feel included, which was something I wasn’t used to back then.
Grayson is a beginner, so his belt is white, which I notice is tied loosely in a knot, slung low on his waist. It’s not the correct way to wear it, but I’m too tongue-tied to voice that as he pushes off the wall and heads in my direction.
Damn he’s sexy.
I tear my eyes away from him so I’m not tempted to ogle, but my stomach does a flip-flop as he approaches. I’m filled with a mixture of excitement and worry.
Despite Grayson’s slight limp, he still walks with his sexy stagger. Confident to a fault. This man is too attractivefor his own good. It almost killed me to give him up, but it doesn’t change the fact that I need him gone by the end of this lesson. How I’m going to accomplish that? I’m not sure.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says, popping that delicious dimple of his. This man doesn’t play fair. He never has. He extends a hand toward me. “I bought you a coffee from down the street, with hazelnut syrup, just the way you like it.”
I eye the cup in his hand and sigh as I tuck the box to one side and reach for it. “Thank you.”
“Let me help you with that.” When I shift the box further out of his reach, he shakes his head. “Still as stubborn as ever, I see.”
I shrug instead of answering. I’ve never played a damsel in distress. It’s not who I am.
I can feel his eyes taking me in as we move across the main floor toward the mats. “How come you get to wear a black uniform? When I got mine the only option they gave me was white. Yours is so much more badass.”
“Because I am badass,” I say, making him chuckle. “By rights, you need to be Shodan level or above before you can wear all black.”
