The Bucket List (3 page)

“Hello.”

Tia’s frustrated voice chimed on the other end. “Grace, I hate to do this to you, but I have to cancel.”

Grace stood up and turned her back to Brett, moving as far away from him as the office would allow, which was not that far.

“What? Why?” Grace questioned, allowing her disappointment to show.

“Girl, Justin’s sperm donor is now saying he won’t be able to keep him while we go out of town. Something about a last minute trip to L.A. on business. It’s too late to get a back-up sitter. I HATE when he does this shit. I swear he does it just to fuck with me.”

“What about your mom? Can she keep him?”

“She’s in Vegas with her latest boy toy. That woman is going to get arrested for messing around with those little boys. This one can’t be any older than twenty-five. I was going into elementary school when he was born. I just hope she doesn’t try to marry his ass because I’m not calling him ‘daddy’, that’s for damn sure.”

Grace allowed Tia to ramble on. It was always something going on with her and her family. Rather than listen to a litany of Tia’s complaints, Grace jumped back into the conversation when an opening presented itself.

“Tia, what am I supposed to do? The hotel rooms are paid for and I can’t go to Mardi Gras alone.”

“I know. I have already ripped the sperm donor a new one. He is willing to pay for both of our rooms so you won’t be losing any money.  I was even thinking that you might want to take one of the other ladies from the group.”

Grace sputtered in exasperation.

“One of the other ladies? We are supposed to leave in two days! I can’t spring a week long trip on somebody out of the blue. Besides, you’re from there and have family there. You were going to show me the ropes.”

“Just because it’s on your bucket list doesn’t mean you have to do it this year. A bucket list is for life, so we can plan on doing it next year. They
do
have Mardi Gras every year, you know. You can just hit a couple of the clubs here during Mardi Gras weekend, and do a pub crawl with some of the girls.”

 There was silence on the line. Grace didn’t know what to say. On the one hand she understood that Justin’s well-being came first and if Tia didn’t have a babysitter that was the end of the discussion. Still, the idea of giving up The Big Easy at Mardi Gras for a pub crawl in downtown Disney was a joke. Disappointment was crushing her, she wanted to wallow in self-pity but she knew it wouldn’t make her feel any better.

“Yeah, I’ll sit this one out. I do have some work I can get caught up on, and you’re right, there is always next year.”

“Thanks for understanding, Grace. I will make sure he gives me some extra money, just for ruining our trip. We will have a girl’s day out on his dime.”

Grace was not even going to go into the complex relationship Tia and her husband shared.  She wasn’t even sure she understood it herself.  They’d been separated for nearly two years but neither one of them was running out to get a divorce; saying they were Catholic and it was against their religion. They had separate homes but he spent most of his time at the home they shared in Oviedo.  Tia was a native of New Orleans, which made her the ideal person to go to Mardi Gras with—or, rather, would have made her the perfect person to go with.

Brett’s office phone ringing prompted to her to finish her own call. She had nearly forgotten about him in her disappointment.

“It’s fine. I might even be able to get a partial refund. I’ll let you know.”

She ended the call and slowly put the phone away, hesitant to look into Brett’s smug visage; knowing full well she would see an “I-told-you-so” look. However, being a grown woman meant she had to take her lumps, so she turned, preparing to concede defeat.

Brett listened to the one-sided conversation and breathed a sigh of relief. The knot in his shoulders and stomach slowly loosened. It was such a load off his mind knowing that his wish had been granted. Grace was not going to run off to New Orleans and do God only knew what with God only knew whom.

When she’d walked into his office all prim and proper, wearing the hell out of her cute little hot pink velour jogging suit, her long hair in a pony tail, all he could think about was how he wanted to slowly unzip her jacket and suck on her voluptuous tits through the white T-shirt she wore underneath. He wanted to lift her up and have her straddle his hips with those powerful legs of hers while rubbing his hard-on into her crotch. Damn…she was so fucking sexy.

Grace had an athletic shape, with a tight, toned body. Her breasts were amazing; round and lush, not to mention her flawless dark chocolate skin. She reminded him of the actress Gabrielle Union, with her large, doe-like eyes and plump lips, which she had a habit of nibbling on unconsciously. She was the kind of woman with natural sex appeal. She was never overtly sexual, it was just there.

At first, his attraction to her confused him. His usual preferences ran to the blonde or brunette with the big tits, slim, taut body and barely-there clothing. During his wrestling days, he was surrounded—and pursued—by a lot of beautiful women who could do amazing things to him with their hands, mouths and other body parts. At the time, he was shallow enough to allow it and cocky enough to think it was all about him. 

When he met Grace she was wearing a robin’s egg-blue raw silk dress, with a short matching jacket that showed off her tiny waist and sleek black pumps.  He could tell that she was digging him and, in fact, had been waiting for her to fall all over him.

That didn’t happen. She was polite and professional, only casually showing interest in his profession.  Somehow, she’d managed to keep him on his toes the entire conversation while engaging his business-minded side, the side of him that was concerned about taking care of his family and making sure he didn’t have to wrestle until he became too old or too broken to do it anymore. With her help and guidance, he was able to retire after six years of her sound advice while he was still at the top of his game.

Now he was able to do what he always enjoyed doing; working on cars and bikes. His mother and brothers were financially set and he was more settled and ready to commit to the stubborn woman before him.

When he’d seen the bucket list she mistakenly dropped, Brett had to stop himself from getting hard. The first thing on the list under “Go to Mardi Gras” was; ‘flash breasts for beads’. The image of her flashing her tits for beads would be enough to have him jerking off in the shower that evening. Even now, he was semi-erect inside his boxer briefs. He was surprised as hell and a little hurt that just below her little flashing stunt was written: “have a one night stand.” A fucking one night stand…and she hadn’t even considered him? He’d been putting in his application for the ‘random guy to screw’ role for a while now. Each time, she turned down his application, until he finally settled for just giving her subtle hints, as often as possible, that he would be open for a temp-to-permanent gig, if she ever decided to fill the opening.

Fuck! What was it about him that made her run in the other direction? There was no way he was reading her wrong. He knew she was attracted to him but he didn’t want to have to press her. Shit, a man had his pride. He’d never worked so hard to get a woman in his life.

He could read women. Hell, he’d sized up every groupie who crossed his path, many of them seasoned vets who made a living off of tricking men out of their money. None of them could put one over on him. He could always find their motivation. Grace was an enigma to him.

Then again, Grace was not some random groupie, she was his accountant and, against his better judgment, his friend. She knew exactly how much he was worth, what he owned and where all of his money was, and she still would not sleep with him.

On one hand, he liked that the money meant nothing to her; on the other, he was getting fucking blue balls being in this “friends” category she seemed hell-bent on keeping him in. If they went out, it was as friends, or she would find a way to talk about his investments.

Sometimes she let her guard down and they laughed and shared each others’ worlds. Those were the times which gave him hope that his pursuit was not in vain. When her dad had a near fatal heart attack nine months prior, he had been there for her, allowing her to lean on him emotionally and sometimes physically. They became closer in those months than in all of the years he had known her. She’d let him kiss her and hold her before she pulled away, moments built out of smoke, easily dispelled. The shy, brainy, accountant was the eldest of two children born to parents who were also accountants. She was always so sensible, but he brought her out of her shell a little bit. Deep down, he liked that she was not so irresponsible and unpredictable.  He’d witnessed how destructive that kind of behavior could be and he now enjoyed a more structured lifestyle.

Brett wanted to tell Grace that she was not missing anything by not going to Mardi Gras.  Sure, getting drunk and screwing random people seemed like fun when you were doing it, but the time and energy you lost in the pursuit of mindless pleasure was a waste, and eventually you were left with random memories that didn’t mean shit.

The tattoos…well, hell, he did like his tats. If she wanted to get one, it might be a sexy sight to see on little Miss Priss. The question of the hour was how to convince someone that they really didn’t want what they were asking for. It was like telling a poor person that having a million dollars was over-rated. People invariably wanted to see things for themselves.

He looked at her defeated posture and all his protective instincts amped up. He found his lips speaking before his mind could register the consequences of his actions.

“I’ll take you.”

Chapter Three

“Mardi Gras, here we come,” Grace shouted out as they crossed over into Mississippi.

She had been chatting non-stop since they’d gotten on the road at four a.m. and she didn’t know why. Okay, she did know why. For the first time in her life, she was doing something spontaneous and wild. Now she saw why some people loved living on the edge. The adrenaline was rushing through her veins. The unknown was out there and with Brett’s help, she would be able to safely let her hair down without having to worry about getting in a sticky situation.

Well, at least not with a stranger. She decided last night that Brett was going to be her “random guy.” No, it didn’t meet the letter of the list but it met the spirit in which the list was written, which was all that mattered. She thought she would be shyer about it, but so far things were just so normal between them that she didn’t feel any of the nerves her decision should have brought. She wanted to bring up the subject of the one night stand with Brett, let him know what she was thinking, but she still wasn’t sure if she could handle that conversation.

Brett was looking fine as usual in a semi-fitted white tee, low-slung dark blue jeans and navy running shoes. He’d shaved but you could still see the makings of a dark beard beneath his skin. His hair had been freshly cut and was now short and tapered in the back and longer on the top, which caused it to curl in a sexy, rakish way. He just looked like he was up to no good…and he would be, if she had her way. Grace laughed lightly to herself at her witty play on words, and snuggled more fully into the cushy seats of Brett’s black Navigator.

The Kings of Leon’s song
Pick-Up Truck
blared through the sound system. They’d been driving for a while. Brett pulled over for a restroom break at a rest stop. Grace flipped her magazine open and started scanning through the pages.

“You don’t have to use the restroom?” Brett asked incredulously.

“Nope, I’m good.”

“We have been on the road for over nine hours and you have only used the restroom once! How is that possible?”

“Well, unlike you, old man, I am used to road trips. My folks used to drive everywhere to conserve money. There is an art to knowing how much water to drink on a long road trip. You have been guzzling it down since we got in the car; that’s a no-no.”

“We have to stop anyway for gas and to stretch our legs, so why dehydrate yourself when you will have access along the way?”