Restore Me Page 5

  My brows rise. I’m interested in this story. “What dog?”

  “He was about 13 or so and I got him a dog to play with at my house. It was a mutt and the poor thing didn’t have a home. Well, long story short, Damon fell in love with the dog.”

  “What did he name it?”

  “Dog.” She shrugs and I roll my eyes at adolescent Damon. How original. “So anyway, one day the dog got out of my back gate. The damn thing nearly got killed in the street. Damon was rattled by it and after that he didn’t want the dog anymore.”

  My face screws up when I realize what the fuck this analogy is all about. “Are you seriously comparing me to a dog?”

  “Bitch. Dog was a female. I’m comparing you to a bitch.” She winks at me. “You know, the pot calling the kettle black and all.”

  I smile and shake my head at her. I love this woman. “So what happened to the bitch?”

  She smiles wide, exposing her too big dentures. “It took a while, but he got over it. That damn dog was his closest companion until she died.”

  “I’m confused. Why did he not want the dog anymore after she got out?”

  “Well, he was scared. He realized that if he had someone to love he also had someone to lose. He was trying to protect himself. The dog just wanted to please him; she was always bringing him dead animals and wagging her tail and looking at him with her adorable puppy dog eyes. It took a while, but he got over his fear and he and the bitch; I mean, the dog, were inseparable.”

  A knock interrupts what was left of her story, her eyes immediately focusing over my shoulder. I follow her gaze to see who in the hell she’s waiting on with such rapt attention.

  “Come in,” she says in a clear voice.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Cole.”

  Holy shit! That guy is gorgeous and Grams is positively beaming. She might actually be blushing! No wonder she’s waiting on him. I would, too. His bright smile is showing off those straight pearly whites.

  “Oh, Andy! How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bee? My friends call me Bee, so you should, too.”

  I gape at Grams’ open flirting with the sexy muscle man near the door. He has a tool belt hanging from his narrow hips and a tool box gripped in his left hand. Grams winks at him and I can’t help grinning from ear to ear watching the scene before me.

  “Sorry, Bee. I keep forgetting.” The maintenance man walks further into the room and comes to a stop near the side of Gram’s bed, where I’m sitting.

  “Andy, this is Josephine. Josephine, this is Andy. The best handyman in town. Not too hard on the eyes either. Is he?”

  Grams pokes me and I stand, a little reluctantly. I blush from head to toe and make note of her jab with using my full name. An eye for an eye I guess.

  “Hi, Andy.” I extend my hand. “Please call me Jo.”

  Andy’s dark blue eyes appraise me quickly then he smiles politely and takes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Jo. I like your name.”

  I nod and smile politely in return. Wow, he’s hot! “Yeah, it’s not bad, I guess. It could be worse. I could be named Beatrice or something fucking awful like that.” I smile sardonically at Grams and she sticks her tongue out at me. I glance up at the tall, blue-eyed hunk to see his eyes are as wide as dinner plates. It’s good to see I haven’t lost my charm during my stint with heartbreak; my mouth is still filthy and locked and loaded with plenty of smartass remarks.

  “Josephine used to date my grandson, but she dumped him. It’s a shame.” She shakes her head and smoothes her silver hair, feigning disappointment.

  “I did not! Well…I guess I did, but—”

  Poor Andy cuts me off before I dig a deeper hole. Thank fuck! “Uh, I guess I should change that light bulb for you, Mrs. Co—Bee. I’ll change that light bulb for you, Bee.”

  Poor Andy, he’s caught in the same room with two tenacious, snarky women. The poor sucker. I smile wide at Grams and she belts out a witchy cackle. Andy walks over the light fixture on the wall and begins working on removing the shade. His light brown hair catches the light coming through the window and seems to almost glitter. If I weren’t already utterly and completely in love with Damon, I’d be giving him my number right now.

  “Is this the guy you were waiting for?” I lean in towards Grams and whisper loudly in her ear.

  Her wicked smile tells me she’s up to no good whatsoever. “You bet. I think he wants to get fresh with me.”

  I shake my head at the brazen old bat. “And how do you know this?”

  “Edith, my snotty neighbor, always calls in work orders to get him to come to her room and most the time someone else goes. But when I call, Andy comes. Every time.”

  I furrow my brows in disbelief. “I take it you aren’t friends with Edith?”

  Grams scoffs indignantly. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in cahoots with that floozy! She manages to chase off just about every good looking staff member here. They can’t stand her crazy eye.”

  “What?!” I screech as a fit of laughter rips through me. Both of us cackle unabashedly, like two gossipy witches.

  “She has a funny eye. If she isn’t wearing those thick glasses of hers, it tends to wander this direction.” Grams brings one finger up to her face and mimics which direction said lazy eye wanders. It’s fucking ridiculous, but a much needed break from my own thoughts.

  “It’s a damned soap opera in here,” I sputter out between gasps for air.

  “You got that right, honey. Instead of The Young and The Restless, we got The Old and The Worthless!” Grams hoots with laughter and pops a circus peanut in her mouth.

  “Want one?” She extends the bag to me and a grab a few. I lean back in my seat and prop my feet on the side of Grams bed. We sit there and watch Andy’s behind as he changes the light bulb.

  I definitely needed this little break from reality.

  “Bee, you’ve got some scuff marks up here on the wall. I could get some paint and take care of that.”

  We both glance up to his face instead of his ass as he turns to face us.

  “Oh yes,” Grams clucks. “That’s gotta be fixed then, young man. Can you come back tomorrow?”

  Andy smiles politely and nods. The old bat really has no shame. I wonder if I’m as bad as her. Andy gathers his things and approaches Grams’ bed.

  “It was nice to meet you, Jo.” He extends his hand.

  I take it for a friendly shake and his thumb stokes over the back of my hand. I smile knowingly at the forward bastard and pull my hand out of his.

  “See you tomorrow,” he tosses over his shoulder as he walks out of the suite.

  I turn and gape at Grams. “What the hell was that?”

  “Guess my man might have an eye for you, Jo.” Grams shrugs and pops another peanut in her mouth.

  I narrow my eyes at her. There’s no telling what’s going through that head of hers.

  I squint at the grayish smudges on her wall. “How did scuff marks get on your wall at eye level?”

  “What? Oh, yes. My cane.” Her response is as blasé as it could possibly be.

  “What?” She has me confused… again.

  “I may or may not have whacked the wall with my cane a few times so that Mister Tight Buns would have to come see me.” She shrugs and flips open the magazine in her lap, mowing down another peanut. She really does eat a ton of those damn things. It’s a fucking miracle she’s not gargantuan or diabetic.

  “Wow, Grams. Seriously?”

  She shrugs again and swipes her finger across the magazine to turn another page. My phone chirps in my bag, drawing me away from my gawking. I fumble through my mess of a purse to find the damn thing and glide my thumb across the screen to open the awaiting text message.

  “Brian,” I mutter to myself.

  Where r u? Boss man says u should be back.

  On the one hand, I feel a tiny bit relieved that Damon is feeling with it enough to worry about where I am, but on the other hand, this is total horseshit. He hasn’t said a
thing to me, or acknowledged my existence, yet he has Bloodhound Brian texting to find out where I am? Yeah, I don’t think so, bud. My thumbs move at the speed of sound to fire off a text.

  Tell him to stop being an ass and text me himself if he gives a shit.

  I lay my phone in my lap and get comfortable again. “Grams, I have a question.”

  She closes her magazine and turns her blue eyes on me. “I have an answer,” she quips. It’s just another reminder of why I adore her.

  “Why do you stay here? There really isn’t anything wrong with you.”

  “Well, I’m older than dirt, girl!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. 78 isn’t really too old these days.”

  “I like it just fine here. I’m not a burden on anyone. These people get paid well. Damon takes care of it all for me.” Of course he does.

  “Well, if you were my grandmother, I’d have you at home, not in some boring retirement home with a crazy-eyed neighbor.” We both burst into fits of laughter at the mention of Crazy-eyed Edith.

  My phone chirps as a new text message arrives; Brian again.

  He’s on the war path now. U r killin’ me here.

  I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. He can’t possibly think that I would be very receptive to him playing messenger games with Brian in the middle. This is stupid and I’m flat out irritated with him. Why won’t he just fucking speak to me?

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  I glance up at Grams to see her watching me closely. “I don’t know what to do with Damon.”

  Grams’ response is to shake her head disapprovingly. “You’re smarter than that, Jo. You know what to do. Go to him and help him get his head together. You’ll find a way. We always do.” She leans in and whispers the last bit and it has my mind going into overdrive.

  She’s right. Time to stop whining and make shit happen. I told myself to make shit happen when I was homeless and I did. I wasn’t enrolled in school, but I studied hard in the library to make sure I could pass the GED, and I did. I’ll get him to come back to me the way he was. I love him and he has to still love me, too. That doesn’t just vanish overnight, no matter what the circumstances.

  “You’re right, Grams. I guess I’d better go then. Time to make that man snap out of it.” I stand and lean over to hug Grams. Her arms around me feel so good; like I always imagined a grandmother’s embrace would feel. It’s comforting and strong, no matter how weak time has made her body. “You know I love you, Grams. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I love you too, honey. You’re a good woman, you know. It may be damn selfish of me, but I am glad you came into our lives. No matter how. I’m still glad.”

  A lump instantly forms in my throat. She’s right. It’s terrible to admit. That accident may have taken my parents, but it brought me Damon and Grams and I love them both.

  “Me too,” I choke out, stepping back from her.

  “You’re coming by tomorrow, right?”

  I smile broadly. I couldn’t refuse her if I tried. “Yep. I’ll bring you some lunch.”

  “Oh, wonderful! Bring me a cheeseburger, will ya?”

  There’s no denying it. I love this lady as if she were my own family. I’ll bring her lunch every day if she wants it. Hell, I’d prefer to take her out of this place and have her in a real house with real family and a real life.

  “I’ll bring you whatever you want. See you tomorrow.” I give her hand one last squeeze and leave her room with a new determination to get my life together.

  I’ve done it once and I’ll do it again.

  ***

  With a proper plan for the rest of my day, I swing by the grocery store to pick up some essentials before I return to the penthouse. I make my way into the elevator, bags in hand, refusing Howard’s offer of assistance. I feel like quite the independent housewife. When the doors slide open, I step out, adjust my grip on the shopping bags, and punch in the code to unlock the door. I use my hip to push it open and walk in.

  I’m on a mission. I want to drop my bags at the door and find Damon, to tell him I’m home and see how he’s doing. But I need to focus on one thing at a time. I don’t look for him at all, focusing on getting my groceries to the kitchen and dinner started, like a proper, supportive girlfriend.

  I make it past the foyer and into the kitchen before I see him. He’s standing in front of the open refrigerator, bare back to me. My fucking mouth waters just looking at him. His jeans hang just low enough to allow me a peek at his boxer briefs. I walk further into the kitchen and set the bags down on the countertop. Damon slams the fridge and turns to face me. The expression on his face is one I’ve never seen before now. He’s fucking pissed and I feel a little intimidated.

  “Where were you?” he demands.

  He may be all kinds of angry, but his voice is music to my ears. I stand here like a statue just reveling in the sound of his voice.

  “Uh…I-um…”

  “‘Um’ isn’t an answer, Josephine.”

  “You’re pissed at me?” I ask incredulously. I can feel the tension in my neck twist painfully tight as I narrow my eyes on him.

  He begins to walk to where I’m standing beside the kitchen island. “I don’t like getting smartass text messages from you when I’m concerned about where you are.” His voice is calm and smooth, but it makes him all the more intimidating.

  The Damon that stands before me is a stranger. He’s just so different. His eyes aren’t warm and loving like they used to be. Even his voice sounds different.

  “Technically the text was to Brian. If you wanted to know where I was, you should’ve contacted me yourself, and not used a go-between.”

  He closes the space between us. The heat radiating off his chest is close enough to feel. I’m intimidated but I want to gather him up in my arms and tell him that everything is going to be okay, too. “Don’t test me,” he warns.

  Something tells me I should listen, but fuck that. I’ve never been one to just sit down and shut up. If he wants to know where I’m at when I’m out, then he needs to stop acting like someone pissed in his cereal. With this kind of cold shoulder, I’m not sure he even wants me around. Everything is up in the air anyway. We haven’t dealt with anything, much less the subject of me leaving him. I want to make things work. I hope he feels the same. Right now it’s really difficult to tell.

  “You act like you hate me,” I say. “This is the first time you’ve spoken to me and it’s to reprimand me?! If you don’t want me here, I can call Brian to come hang out with you and I can go back to Captain’s house.” I break eye contact with him and do my best to look a whole lot braver on the outside than I feel on the inside. I’d give my next breath right about now just to hear three words from his gorgeous mouth.

  He grips my hips and turns me to face the counter. His hot, bare chest is pressed against my back while his hips hold mine immobile against the island. Fuck, it feels amazing. One hand snakes up my hip, glides up my rib cage, over the curve of my breast, and comes to a stop at my cheek. He firmly grips my jaw as he leans further forward into me. His lips brush against the rim of my ear as he speaks. “Haven’t you done enough leaving, Josephine?”

  His rhetorical question is like a damn stake through my heart. It shreds me on the spot. The breath is knocked from my lungs. The heat between my legs is extinguished and my heart sinks. I close my eyes and take the verbal blow on the chin like a woman.

  “If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave,” I reiterate in a frail voice.

  “Why don’t you let me decide if you should leave this time?” He releases me and I turn to see he’s walking away, no doubt headed to his fucking office.

  “Damon! Please!” I cry anxiously.

  He stops in his tracks but makes no move to turn and face me. Grams said I’d find a way and she’s right. Female persuasion is a powerful thing and I know he feels the same way I feel when our bodies touch. I will my feet to move. I can do this. He can’t refuse or de
ny what we have. We love each other. I’ll bring him back to me.

  I step into his personal space and lift my hands to his shoulder blades. I press my palms to his muscular back. His head falls forward and his chest fully inflates as he draws in a deep breath. It’s the reassuring sign that I need from him. My tongue darts from my mouth and makes a pass over my lips. I lean forward and drop one chaste kiss in the middle of his back.

  “Baby, please,” I croon. “Talk to me!”

  He whirls around to face me, taking me by surprise. “What do you want from me?!”

  “I-I just want you to talk to me. I want to make sure we’re on the same page as far as we are concerned,” I sputter out, looking to him for the words I need to hear.

  “Josephine, we aren’t on the same page. Actually, I don’t even think we’re in the same book.” The way he says it is exhaustive, like I’m irritating him or something. It cuts me like a white-hot knife. “I’m not myself; I’m out of control and I don’t know how to come back.” He runs those big hands through his disheveled hair and the expression on his handsome face is one of hopelessness. I know the look well.

  I step closer to him and reach for his hand. “Before you walked into my life, I felt the floor crumbling beneath my feet. Then you showed up and I had something to hold onto. Let me do the same for you. At least let me try. Please.”

  “I’m bad news for you. I can’t give you what you deserve,” he confesses.

  I shake my head. I refuse to believe that he’s bad news. Even if he were, I’d want all the bad news I could get my hands on. “No, you aren’t. Let me help you.”

  “No. You—” He drops his head and scrunches up his brows.

  “Let me help you,” I repeat. I place my hand on his cheek and make small stokes across his cheekbone with my thumb.

  His eyes slip closed under my touch, almost like Hemingway’s do when I pet his head, and I hear him sigh.

  “Tell me how I can help you,” I whisper.

  His eyes slide open and his gaze meets mine. He gives a subtle nod and his eyes go to my mouth. My lips part. My tongue slips out to moisten my lips.