Giving It All (4 page)

Chapter Four

The ringing of her cell phone woke Ellie long before she was ready. Normally, she kept the phone by her bed, but it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. She was tempted to ignore it, but it was Peter’s ringtone, which meant he’d just call her again until she answered.

“All right, I’m coming.” She rolled out of the bed and stumbled to where the phone continued to blare “Momma Mia”. It was still in her clutch, which she’d thrown on the counter. Her head ached, but at least she wasn’t nauseous. She really shouldn’t drink champagne.

“What,” she whined into the phone by way of greeting.

“I just wanted to see how you were feeling on this bright, beautiful morning,” he said, his voice far too cheerful.

“This is your payback for being the designated driver, isn’t it?” Where the heck was the ibuprofen?

“You bet your sweet little ass. I figure I had to suffer sober last night so you should suffer this morning. Interested in a mimosa?”

“Bite me.”

“I would, but you’re not really my type. How about joining me for yoga instead? I’ll drive.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Great, I’ll pick you up in five minutes. Trust me, sweetie, it’ll purge all the toxins and you’ll feel tons better.” He hung up before she could say a word.

Ellie frowned at her phone, tempted to call him back but didn’t bother. It would be a waste of time to argue with him anyway, and if he was going to pick her up in five minutes, it meant he was already on the way. If she didn’t want to be rushed out the door in her boxers and camisole, she’d better use the time to change and brush her teeth instead of arguing fruitlessly. When Peter wanted something, he was relentless. It had made him a great journalist, but it was annoying when all she wanted was to go back to sleep.

After changing into her yoga togs and doing a quick wash to get rid of the raccoon eyes, she still had a minute to fill a water bottle before hearing Peter’s car drive up.
Go team Ellie!

“Sweetie, you look better than I’d thought considering the way you were guzzling that cheap champagne last night.”

“You sound disappointed,” she said as she slipped into the passenger seat. “If it makes you feel better I have a headache that makes me want to drill a hole in my head and my mouth still feels like something fuzzy crawled up and died in it even after I brushed my teeth.”

“Yes. That makes me feel much better, thank you.”

“Anything for a friend. Although, a real friend wouldn’t have let me drink so much. You’re lucky I didn’t hurl all over your fancy car on the way home.”

“You didn’t have that much. You were only a little tipsy. It was cute.”

“Puppies are cute.” Suddenly, the memory of what happened last night after Peter dropped her off came back with startling clarity. Mortified, she put her face in her hands and groaned.

“What?”

“Is it possible to die from embarrassment?” she asked from behind her fingers.

“No, just wish for it. Why? What happened? I don’t recall you doing anything embarrassing, unless while you were in the bathroom you had a run in with that blonde whose husband was eyeing you all night.”

“After you left, I sat on the stairs for a minute, enjoying the night air. While I was there, Grant came out.”

“Oh? Do tell. Did you strip off your dress and throw yourself at him?”

“Jerk, no, but I did kiss him after he walked me to the door.”

“Was it a kiss kiss or just a little peck?”

Ellie closed her eyes and brought back the feeling of having his muscled chest pressed against her, his rock-hard shoulders under her hands and his soft lips against her own. “Less than a kiss kiss, more than a peck. It was on the lips but only lasted a few seconds.” Delightful, tingly seconds.

“Good girl. I knew you had it in you. How did he react?”

She paused for a second to remember. “Stunned. I didn’t exactly give him a chance to say anything, actually. After I planted one on him, I closed the door and went to bed.”

“Maybe if you’d brazened it out, you wouldn’t have gone to bed alone.”

“Peter, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like? Because it sure sounds like you made a play.”

“It wasn’t a play, more of a…I don’t know, a gesture. A welcome.” Delicious shivers chased their way down her spine as she remembered the spicy scent of him and the warmth pouring off his body. The air had been cool, and when he’d wrapped his arm around her, everywhere they’d touched burned. Butterflies danced in her belly all over again.

“Then why the red face?”

“Because I
kissed
him, unprovoked and unasked for. He was just being a gentleman, walking me to my door, and I threw myself at him.”

“First, why did he have to walk you to the door? This isn’t New York. Second, you gave him a smooch. You didn’t cram your tongue down his throat and grab his package. Did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you have nothing to be embarrassed about. And, honestly, if he didn’t want you to kiss him, he shouldn’t have walked you to the door. If he was only concerned about your safety—and please, really?—he could have watched you from the bottom of the stairs. He was practically asking for it.”

“He was just being a good Southern boy. His momma raised him right.”

“Fine. I still say you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Ellie didn’t argue. She didn’t have the energy. Besides, there was no arguing with Peter when he got an idea in his head. She’d keep her mortification to herself and try to avoid Grant for a few days. He probably had women throwing themselves at him all the time, so one more wouldn’t be a blip on his radar. She hoped.

Unfortunately, avoiding Grant was not to be. As she and Peter exited the hot yoga class, dripping sweat and her hair stuck to her face in scraggly hanks, they spotted a commotion in the weight room. Easing through the crowd surrounding a weight bench, she saw some of the regulars gathered around as a man bench pressed what appeared to be an enormous amount of weight.

Peter let out a low whistle. “That’s got to be over three hundred pounds.”

“350,” a guy who was a mountain of muscle next to her said. “And he’s on his second set of reps. The guy’s a beast.”

Ellie stood frozen to the spot. The man on the weight bench heaving the enormous load had muscles bulging everywhere. Except his lower left leg, which was a mechanical device. That was Grant, and she didn’t know whether to run away before he spotted her or stay and enjoy the show.

And there was a whole lot to enjoy. In the tight workout shorts and tank top Grant wore, she could see muscles rippling in places she didn’t know there were muscles. His thighs were like tree trunks and she felt a flush of heat from head to toe as she thought about what they’d feel like between her own much smaller legs.

A cheer went up as he placed the bar back in the holder over his head and sat up. She thought she detected a flush of embarrassment in his face at all the attention. He seemed a little uncomfortable being the focus of just about everyone in the gym. Part of her wanted to rescue him, and part of her still wanted to flee before he saw her. Ellie knew she’d lost her moment to escape when his blue eyes focused in on her like a laser beam. She gave him a weak smile and a wave and hoped she didn’t have drool on her chin.

Luckily, before he could call to her, the crowd surrounding him pushed closer, blocking his view.

“Let’s go.” Ellie grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him toward the lobby.

“Don’t you want to shower first?”

“No, let’s go, quick, before he gets free of that crowd.”

Peter dug in his heels and yanked her to a stop. “
That
was your Grant?”

“He’s not my Grant, but, yes, that’s him.”

“Holy Mary Mother of God, no wonder you had a crush on him. I think I do too. Why are you running away from him?”

“Look at me. I’m soaking in my own sweat, I probably stink to high heaven, my hair is a mess and I’m wearing yoga pants and a sports bra. When I have to see him again, I’d like to at least have makeup on.”

“You can’t always get what you want. He’s coming this way.”

“Oh, gosh, is it too late to run? Pretend we didn’t see him?”

“Yup. You’re just going to have to brazen it out.”

“Ellie, I didn’t know you belonged to the gym,” Grant said as he approached them. Sweat dripped down his face and darkened the front of his tank top. “Hi, Grant Anderson. Ellie and I are neighbors.” He held his hand out to Peter.

“Peter Wells. Ellie’s told me a lot about you.”

“Really?”

“Wow, that was a pretty impressive display in there,” Ellie interrupted before Peter could throw her under the bus. “Do you always lift that much?”

“I didn’t when I was on active duty, but I started lifting more when I was going through rehab. I need to keep my weight stable so my prosthesis fits correctly and lifting gets addictive. What were you doing? I’m surprised to see you up this early.”

“It wasn’t by choice. Peter and I do the hot yoga class they offer here every Saturday. I can’t always get to the other classes during the week, so I try not to miss this one if at all possible.” She could feel the sweat drying in the breeze from the air-conditioning vent. A shiver shook her frame and she glanced down to see her nipples poking out through her sports bra. Dear God, could this get any more embarrassing? “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your workout. Tell your folks I said hi. I’ll be around if your mom needs me.”

“Will do. Wells, it was nice meeting you.” He held his hand out to Peter again.

“Likewise. I’d love to sit down and interview you for the
Dale Weekly
if you’ve got some time. I’m sure everyone wants to know how you’re doing.”

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Peter.” She pinched his arm. “See you around.” She smiled weakly to Grant and yanked Peter to the exit.

“What?”

“Leave him alone. The last thing he wants to do is get grilled by you the day after he comes home.”

“I wasn’t going to grill him. Much. Don’t you think the good citizens of Dale would like to know about his experiences and his injury? I’m sure they’ll be gathered around him like buzzards over road kill by the day’s end. If he gives me an interview, he’d get the whole story out in one fell swoop.”

“And your sales would go through the roof.”

“You bet your sweet fanny. Especially if I put a picture of him on the front page. I’d sell triple my usual amount just with all the women wanting to plaster his face on their walls. Or ceilings.”

“That’s just awful.”

“But true. Hell, I might just put a copy of my own up on the wall.”

“He’d have to agree to it first.”

“Don’t you worry. He’ll see things my way.”

“Just take me home. I need a shower and coffee and an hour or four to pull myself together.”

“You sure you don’t want to go for a mimosa?” he asked with an evil grin.

Grant watched Ellie drag her friend out of the gym and took a moment to appreciate her tight little ass in the clingy pants she wore. With her face red and sweaty and her body loose from her yoga session, she looked like a woman who’d just been fucked. Damn, he was getting hard again. Obviously, he needed to get laid so he wouldn’t sport wood every time he saw a woman.

Although, the women from the spinning class who’d gathered around him when he was lifting weights hadn’t caused his dick to so much as twitch. Huh. He hadn’t even been mildly interested in the spandex-wearing blonde who had put her surgically enhanced tits on display for him. But one look at Ellie’s tight nipples poking through her sports bra and he was fighting off another erection. Generally, he went for women who had a little more meat on their bones. Chastity had been a handful in all the right places, and most of the women he’d been with since had as well.

And look how that turned out.
The cynical voice in his head mocked him.

Before he could sink into self-pity, a guy with a buzz cut and fatigue-patterned shorts approached him. Grant stifled a groan. He could spot a wannabe a mile off.

“That was quite a display you put on there,” he said as he offered his hand. “Name’s Jim Soma, I served with the Corps in Afghanistan.”

“Really? I was there too. What unit were you in?” Grant fought back his temper. He knew a lot of Marines who’d died in Afghanistan, good men.

“I’m not allowed to say. You know how it is, classified information and all that.”

“Right. So what did you do in the sandbox?” Grant waited for the answer. Iraq was commonly referred to as the sandbox, not Afghanistan.

“Sniper. I still have nightmares from what I did over there.”

“Sniper, huh? What caliber did you shoot?” Part of him just wanted to get away, but another part, the angry part he had to fight back whenever he ran into a poser like this, wanted to make an example of this ass.

“Can’t rightly say. It’s been six years or more since I was in the sandbox.”

“Sir, I highly doubt that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grant pulled him off to the side by the water cooler. “Jim, I’m a Navy SEAL. I’ve done two tours of duty. I’m trained to pay attention to detail and you have never served in Afghanistan. I bet you were never in the Marines.”

His face went red and then white. “How dare you. I’ll have you know—”

“Save it for someone who’s never served. I was going to lead you on until you sunk yourself so deep you couldn’t get out, but I just can’t take any more. Stop taking the
glory
that you didn’t earn. Good men and women have lost their lives serving their country so you can hang out in bars, caging free drinks, talking about how hard it is to readjust to civilian life. Do yourself a favor and shut the fuck up before a real Marine calls you out in front of all your cronies.”

Jim sputtered out incoherent babble, but Grant didn’t stay to listen. He’d run into guys like this all over the place, and it was all he could do to avoid ripping them a new asshole. If they wanted the bragging rights so badly, they could damn well enlist.

Grant grabbed his stuff, headed for the door and his mother’s Camry. He’d have to find a less crowded time to work out in the future. The last thing he wanted was an audience watching his every move and cataloguing his every scar. He was used to people staring at his prosthetic when he wore shorts, but that didn’t mean he was immune to their whispers.