Play It Safe (16 page)

“I said, call Shirley,” she whispered and I didn’t have to know her very well to know she was mortified.

I didn’t answer and I didn’t look at her face. I just walked right up to her, got down on my knees and righted her clothes. I did it swiftly, efficiently and didn’t say a word. Then I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her up, rolled her to her bottom and scooched her so her back was to the vanity cabinet. It was awkward to do all that, the space was small and with the chair wedged in, it didn’t help.

Then I turned to the toilet, closed the lid and flushed it.

Only then, when I turned back to her, did I catch her eyes.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

She pressed her trembling lips together and shook her head.

“Sure? No pain?” I pressed.

She nodded.

“Do you think I can get you up and in your chair without calling Gray?”

Her eyes held mine and I saw brightness glistening on the bottoms but she didn’t answer.

“Mrs. Cody,” I began again, “can I get you in your chair or do we need to call Gray?”

“I don’t want him to know I fell,” she whispered.

“Right,” I whispered back, “can we get you in your chair?”

“I was reaching for something. Silly. I knew better,” she told me, still whispering.

I scooted closer to her and took her hand. “We all do silly stuff but now we have to get to church. I’m not a weakling but I don’t know how to do those transfers Gray talks about. Can you talk me through it so I can get you in your chair?”

She stared into my eyes and nodded.

“Bring it over here, child, then make sure the wheels are locked. I’ll talk you through it.”

I nodded back, gave her a small smile then did as she said and kept doing it until we had her up, her skirt down, her bottom in her chair and her feet resting on the pedals.

“Need to wash my hands, Ivey,” she said softly. “But I was reaching for my perfume. Can you get it for me?”

I saw the perfume on a standing shelf across and just down from the toilet and I could see how she’d think she could make it as well as see how she did not.

I moved it to the vanity countertop as she washed her hands.

“Was running late,” she said to her hands as she wiped them on a towel. “Thought I’d multitask, save time.”

“Jesus!” Gray shouted from outside. “You wanna give me a clue? Is everything all right in there?”

My eyes went to the door at his first word then they went to Grandma Miriam and I saw my wide eyes reflected on her face.

Then, to my shock and utter delight, she burst out laughing.

“We’re fine, Gray, keep your pants on!” she shouted back after she quit laughing. “Ivey’s helpin’ me with my perfume!”

Silence then through the door, “For fuck’s sake, I thought a black hole swallowed both of you.”

At that, to my further shock and still utter delight, her eyes caught mine and she rolled hers. Then she grabbed her perfume bottle and spritzed it on.

Then she shouted, “Grayson Cody, we’re about to go to church and you’re giving us that mouth!”

“Fuckin’ hell,” we heard him mutter then, “Right!” he shouted. “I’m gonna go warm up the truck.”

Grandma Miriam expertly whipped around her chair, leaned in, threw open the door and then wheeled out forcing Gray, who was standing in the door, to jump out of the way.

And as she did, she replied, now sounding happy as a clam, “You do that, honey.”

Gray scowled at her then he looked at me, the scowl fled and his brows went up in a clear question.

I ignored his question, pressed my lips together, put my hands to the back of her chair and started pushing. Her hands, surprisingly (again!), left the wheels and she let me.

As I did this, I stated, “Let’s get our coats on while Gray starts up the truck.”

“Good idea, child,” Grandma Miriam muttered.

I looked over my shoulder at Gray as I wheeled her to the door. “See you out there, honey.”

He stood stock-still at the side of her bathroom door and stared at me.

I wheeled her around the doorframe and lost sight of him.

Ten minutes later, Grandma Miriam’s chair folded in the back, Gray at the wheel, his Gran in the passenger seat, me scrunched between them on the bench seat, we headed to church.

* * * * *

Seventeen minutes later…

Standing beside Gray in the Fellowship Hall, we watched Grandma Miriam do her socializing exactly like she did last Sunday (and I enjoyed watching it). This proved what Gray had told me that she was born in Mustang and lived her whole life there seeing as she knew every single person in that church.

Then I felt Gray’s arm slide along my shoulders and then I felt his lips come to my ear.

“You gonna share?”

I pulled my head back, he did too and we locked eyes.

“You need to move the shelves in her bathroom so she can reach them better from the toilet,” I whispered.

His blue eyes flashed exposing disquiet and understanding then he nodded and muttered, “Right.”

I gave him some of my weight and smiled.

Gray’s eyes dropped to my mouth and luckily, seeing as we were in a church, when his mouth dropped to it right after it was only for a touch.

Then he moved us forward so we could commandeer Grandma Miriam and get her in a pew.

Feels Good Doesn’t It?

Nearly two hours later…

“Maybe we can go see a movie?” I suggested.

Gray was driving. I was sitting in the passenger seat. We were headed back to his house.

Grandma Miriam had informed us after more communing in the Fellowship Hall when the singing, sermon, praying and more singing was done, she had made plans (just then) with her friend Shirley to go to Shirley’s daughter’s house for Sunday lunch. Then Shirley’s daughter and her husband were going out and Grandma Miriam and Shirley were going to watch Shirley’s daughter’s kids.

She wasn’t going to be home, she didn’t reckon, until close to ten.

“You can,” she began, her eyes slid to me, her mouth twitched then her eyes went back to Gray, “order a pizza or something.”

“Think I can feed myself and my girl,” Gray had muttered then surprisingly, with no further ado, he leaned right in, kissed his grandmother’s cheek, grabbed my hand and dragged me right out to his truck.

During this short, fast trek, I had asked if Shirley needed any help with Grandma Miriam and her chair but Gray assured me that Shirley’s daughter’s husband knew the drill and would sort it.

And away we went.

Now we had the whole day. I was off again and I wanted to do something normal people did.

Back in the day, when I was still a kid, Casey would take me to see movies. Not many of them, it was a treat, but he did it and I loved it. I loved movie popcorn. I loved being in a dark cinema where you felt alone even though you weren’t, your vision filled with what was on screen.

But when I grew up and learned that movies were an extravagance we couldn’t afford, I put a stop to it.

Now I made my own coffee. I poured my own cereal. I went to grocery stores (kind of, if the corner store could be classed as that, but I figured it could since most of what they carried were groceries). I had a job. I owned a skirt. I had my own place.

I was nearly normal.

I wanted to do something normal.

And I hoped Gray did too.

We turned into the long lane that led up to his house and as we did, he muttered, “We’re not gonna go see a movie.”

My head turned to him in surprise. This was because he sounded preoccupied. This was also because it occurred to me in that instant that Gray gave me everything I wanted and I was surprised he denied me.

Not that I’d ever asked for anything. Not the finest of steak dinners no matter that it was served at the VFW. Not for him to pay for my breakfast when we went to the diner. Not for a pair of gloves I knew just looking at them but definitely by the feel they were way on the other side of expensive.

But he gave them to me all the same.

Then it hit me he had a beautiful farmhouse, a bunch of land, decent clothes and a great leather jacket but the first two had been left to him and he had upkeep. He also had a beat up pickup truck that had to be at least a decade old and a grandmother who needed a nurse to come in five days a week to take care of her.

Maybe he couldn’t afford expensive gloves, taking me to the diner
and
a movie.

“My treat,” I said brightly and it could be my treat. It wasn’t like I was going to retire on the Riviera within a year but without a hotel to pay for and with Janie giving me the room for two months for free I could take us to a movie
and
save for all the stuff I needed to start my life.

And I was looking forward to that. Getting my own car. My own mugs. My own silverware. Buying my own comforter. Replacing Gray’s TV with a new one.

I couldn’t wait for that either.

“We’re not goin’ to a movie, baby,” Gray murmured, his voice sweet, soft but still preoccupied.

“Okay,” I whispered.

Maybe he didn’t like movies or maybe he didn’t like going to the theater. Maybe on my next day off, I’d go. Though I didn’t know where the cinemas were. I knew they didn’t have one in town. And I didn’t have a car so I couldn’t get there unless I asked Gray to drop me off and pick me up which I wasn’t going to do.

So maybe I’d wait until I had my own car which might be November but I hadn’t seen a movie in the cinema in years. I could wait until November.

Gray parked where he normally parked beside the house and his door was open nearly before he had the old girl shut down. Mine creaked as I threw it open, I hopped down and it creaked as I slammed it.

Then I jumped because Gray was right there, hand in mine and he was dragging me to the house.

What on earth?

I mean, he held my hand and he did it a lot. Usually, he slid his arm around my shoulders and held me close to him but holding my hand wasn’t unheard of. He even waited on his side of the truck when we got to his place for me to round it then he took my hand or slid his arm around my shoulders so we could walk the short distance to his house.

But he’d never come to my side, grabbed my hand and dragged me to the house.

Up the three wooden steps to the porch, past the porch swing to the front door and in. Then he stopped us, closed the door and immediately shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it on the piece of furniture next to the door in his hall. It was one of those things that looked like a weird seat with armrests and a super tall back that had a mirror in it, the seat opened up so you could store stuff in it and there were hooks all around the mirror.

As he did this, I pulled the strap of my purse over my head.

The instant I got it cleared, Gray grabbed it and tossed it on his coat.

I blinked and froze.

Gray didn’t.

He shrugged off his suit jacket (incidentally, Gray wore a suit to church and it looked
amazing
on him, dark blue with a dark blue/gray shirt under it and a phenomenal tie, I loved him in jeans but I had to say, that suit on him looked fabulous). He threw that on his jacket and I looked up at him.

“What –?” I started but he grabbed my hand and dragged me up the stairs.

It was then I knew what and my belly dipped.

Grandma Miriam was out of the house.

We had it to ourselves.

Until ten.

And yesterday, the floodgates had been opened.

Here comes the flood.

Oh my.

My heart jumpstarted, ticking over fast so by the time we got to the top of the stairs, I felt every beat.

When we got to the top, instead of going left to my room, he took us right.

To his.

I’d never seen his room even though it was across from the bathroom. The door had always been closed.

For some bizarre reason, I couldn’t wait for that either.

In record time Gray had me down the hall, his hand went out, turned the knob and he pulled me into his room.

I understood his hurry, I knew his intent but still, walking in his room the first time, I came out of myself and just stared.

This was because it was like we walked into a different house.

No doilies. No flowers. No pastel carpets. No pretty quilts.

The walls were the color of his shirt, a dark blue/gray. The furniture was heavy, masculine, dark wood, all angles, squares, rectangles with no-nonsense manly etching in the drawers and cabinets.

The house was tidy and clean, although full of stuff.

His room wasn’t tidy and clean or full of stuff. No trophies he won playing sports as a youngster, ribbons displayed. Over the bed there was a huge black and white photo of the Colorado Mountains that I knew was taken by Cotton, a famous photographer who lived in said mountains. There were jeans, boots, long-sleeved tees and flannel shirts in tangles on the floor. Books on the nightstands, so many of them, they overflowed to the floor. There was change in a small bowl on one of his dressers. Sturdy, manly matching lamps on the nightstands and another one on the low bureau.

And that was it. No other decorative touches. Nothing.

And the bed was huge.

Huge.

Squared off head and footboard with slats, dark gray cover covering a down comforter, dark blue sheets. There were six pillows,
six
in disarray at the head of the unmade bed.

“Boots off, darlin’,” Gray muttered, my body jolted and my eyes flew to him to see him pulling at the knot in his tie.

“Wha…what?”

“Boots…” his eyes locked on mine and the fever in them corresponded in heat flooding my body, “
off.
”

Oh…

My.

I dropped my head, lifted my foot and pulled off my boot. Then I did the same with the other.

I’d just straightened when Gray was in my space and moving, rounding me close, herding me as he unwrapped the scarf from around my neck and tossed it aside.

My stomach dropped again, my heart started thumping again and heat gathered between my legs.