Page 6

Chapter Six

Kay

She was trapped in the bathroom.

Kay was literally trapped in the bathroom, and her Jane Austen book was in danger.

Why had she decided to pee?

Or more importantly, why had she decided to leave her purse and, inside of it her cell phone, with Heather?

Oh yeah, because she hadn’t wanted to wrestle with her full-length dress and heels and a purse all while trying to hover so her butt didn’t touch a gross public toilet seat.

“Hello?” she said again, trying the door handle for the umpteenth time.

It still didn’t budge, and she’d lost count of how many times she’d knocked on the door, trying to get someone’s attention. All she knew was that she’d been locked in the room for what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time.

“ Hello? ”

Why did the stalls have to be floor to ceiling with actual doors?

What she wouldn’t give in that moment to be able to crawl out beneath that shin-high gap most public bathrooms sported, dirty, germ-filled floor aside.

Who cared? Her Austen was in danger .

“It’s going to be fine,” she murmured. They were auctioning the tables from one upward. Her Austen was number ten.

She had plenty of time.

Except . . . how long had she been trapped?

“Shit!” she muttered then raised her voice. “Help!” she called. “ Help! ”

Finally, she heard footsteps. “Hello?”

“Hello?” she said. “I’m stuck in the stall.”

“Oh no,” came a female voice. “This one?” The handle jiggled from the outside.

“Yes.”

“Okay, let me try.” It wiggled some more. “Can you turn it at all?”

Kay and her mystery female help worked for a few minutes more, trying to get the handle to move or the lock to disengage, all to no avail.

“Shoot,” the woman eventually said. “I can’t get it to budge. I’m going to see if I can find an employee. Maybe they have a key or a screwdriver or something.”

“Thank you so much,” Kay said, even though her heart was sinking as the minutes passed. There was no way the auctioneer wasn’t getting close to her table, and the likelihood of that early edition of Pride and Prejudice being added to her collection was dropping with each passing moment.

A few minutes passed, and the woman reappeared . . . or at least her voice did. “I found an employee, and they called maintenance, but are you by any chance Kay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Why?”

“Because there’s a guy out here named Garret. I guess he got worried and came looking.”

“Oh.”

That was sweet.

“He says he can try to fix the handle if you’re comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable with anything that gets me out of this stall.”

“I had a feeling,” the woman said. “Let me grab him.”

A few moments later, Kay heard quick footsteps across the tile floor. “Sweetheart? Which stall are you in?”

Her pulse jumped at the endearment—too soon and yet she liked the way it made her feel. As though she were special to him. “I’m here,” she said, knocking on the door.

“Okay, I’m going to try . . .” And he spent a few minutes repeating the process Kay had tried by herself and also with her female helper, without success. “Damn,” he muttered. “You’re really stuck. Let me see if there’s any progress on the maintenance guy. You okay in there for a few more minutes?”

It wasn’t like she had a choice, but Kay bit back an annoyed reply. Garret was trying to help, and getting snappy wouldn’t help.

The Austen would be there when she got out, or it wouldn’t.

That was just the way it was going to be.

Garret came back into the bathroom, relaying he’d been told it would only be a few more minutes before they came, but when a solid fifteen minutes passed, he ordered her to stand back.

And with a grunt and hard shove of his shoulder, he broke the lock, slamming the door into the stall. It crashed against the wall with surprising force, and the half of her that was impressed with his strength was really glad she’d been standing well out of the way.

The other half of her launched herself over the splinters of wood and into his arms.

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you so much.” She stepped out of his arms, turned to the petite blonde standing in the doorway. “And thank you for not leaving me. I was really worried there for a minute.”

“I’m Claire,” the woman said. “And I glad you were rescued.”

“Kay.” She laughed. “But I guess you knew that already. Thank you again.”

Claire left as Kay spun back to face Garret. “I’ve got to see if I can get back for the table auction. My Austen—”

Her gut clenched.

Because his expression said it all.

“It’s gone?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I heard the bids close on it when I went to find the maintenance guy.”

“Oh.” She sucked in a breath and pushed down her disappointment. It was only a book. There would be others. “Did it go for a lot?”

“Over two thousand.”

Kay’s eyes widened. “Really? Well, at least they got their money’s worth.”

“Yeah.” He took her hand. “Do you want to go back to the party?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.” Garret tucked her palm into the crook of his arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I took an Uber.”

His lips twitched. “I’m grasping at straws here. So, should I call you an Uber or do you want a ride home?”

Kay shook off her disappointment. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just a mixture of bummed about the book and shook up from being trapped in a bathroom stall for . . .” She paused. “How long exactly?”

“Close to an hour.”

“Shit.”

He snorted. “Literally.”

“Garret!” But then she was laughing, too, and by the time they both stopped, she felt better. “Thanks,” she said. Her hand still rested on his forearm, and she gave the hard muscle a squeeze.

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you bring a coat?”

“Yes,” she said. “I just need to get the ticket out of my—” She smacked her forehead. “My purse! I’m an idiot. I forgot I left it with—”

Garret held it up.

“She got pulled away from the table. I promised to keep it safe.” He pretended to model it for a few seconds and had her in hysterics. “I think it goes with my outfit, don’t you?”

She patted his arm. “Only a truly secure man would say that.”

“You know it.” He handed her the purse then steered them toward coat check. “Let’s grab your jacket, and I’ll drive you home.”

“That sounds great.”

Her coat felt a little heavy when she put it on, but she attributed it to exhaustion from her crazy evening. First Garret, then the bathroom, and now the multitude of sparks flying as he drove her home.

He held her hand, stroking little circles on the back of her wrist as they drove. Bolts of pleasure shot up her arm and then down. Straight down between her thighs.

Yup, she was getting hot from a simple caress.

Thus was the power of Garret Williams.

He regaled her with a few more tales but didn’t take over the conversation. For as much as he spoke, he seemed to make sure she talked twice as much, and his questions were interesting and fun, ranging from thoughtful to simple small talk.

She’d answered everything from “Where do you come up with your character names?” to “What’s your favorite thing to binge right now?” to “What did your parents do growing up?”

Her answers had been: she had a master list of character names she added to every time she heard a good name, Killing Eve , and school teachers, respectively.

“Star Wars or Star Trek?”

She slanted her eyes at him, felt her lips twitch and then they both said, “Star Wars” at the same time.

He laughed, brushed his fingers along her wrist again, and her breath caught.

Garret was . . . well, he was being the perfect date.

Of course, he was also spinning a web around her, drawing her in, tugging her close—

Or maybe that just what her body wanted.

Or her brain.

Shh, her mind said. Don’t ruin this for us.

Apparently, all of her wanted Garret and she couldn’t just chalk it up to hormones. Nope. He was smart and funny and kind, and the hug after he’d rescued her from the bathroom hadn’t been nearly enough contact.

Damn Heather for her matchmaking skills. If she liked Garret and went out with him then she’d never hear the end of it—

And now Kay was grasping at straws to distance herself.

Because she was scared.

Because she really liked him.

Ugh .

“Take a right at the signal,” she said softly.

As though sensing she was going around in circles in her mind, Garret just nodded and then silently followed the rest of her directions until he was pulling into her driveway.

She owned a house south of the City and though it was ridiculously small—she mentally shook her fist at the price of Bay Area real estate—Kay was very proud of it.

The little Craftsman had a wide front porch that was dotted with pots of hardy flowers she’d somehow managed to keep alive.

And considering her black thumb, that was saying something.

“Thanks,” she said softly and then bit her lip, unsure what to say and suddenly nervous.

“This place is great,” he said, staring at her house. “Is it blue or gray? It’s hard to tell in this light.”

Her lips curved, and she relaxed. “It’s blue-gray. Do you”—she sucked in a breath—“do you want to come in?”

There.

That might have been the bravest thing she’d ever done with a man. Inviting him into her house and not even under the guise of a nightcap. She wasn’t necessarily the type of girl to sleep with someone after a date or two, however good or bad they were. But with Garret, she thought she could be.

Quiet filled the car, and Kay felt her cheeks heat.

Chocolate eyes locked onto hers, desire in their depths, and yet he didn’t move to get out of the car.

His expression went rueful. “I want to come in, but I’m not going to. I consider myself on probation after our first date.”

“Probation?” she asked, head tilting to study him. A mix of relief and disappointment coursed through her, which told her he was probably right in his decision to not come in. Yes, she wanted him, but yes, there was also a part of her waiting for the asshole to reappear.

It was just too soon.

He cupped her cheek. “You need time to get to know me.” One half of his mouth curved. “The not jerky version.”

“How long do you propose this probationary period to last?”

“Hmm. Three months should do it?”

Her heart jumped. Three months? He was considering—

Fingers on her wrist again. “Will you go out with me sometime next week?”

“I’d like that.” She reached into her purse and handed him her card. “Here’s my email.”

“No phone number?”

She shook her head, reached for the handle. “We’ll work up to it.”

A grin that made her thighs clench. “I’m good with working up to things. But”—his eyes scorched her—“I’d like to kiss you goodnight.”

Her mouth went dry, longing pulsed through her.

But then his expression transformed, going all innocent as he shrugged. “I mean, if you want to. No big deal.”

Amusement filled her. “Nope. No can do, bucko,” she told him. “You’re on probation, remember?” Disappointment crossed his gorgeous face, and Kay bit back a smile. “But . . . I can kiss you because I’m not the one aboard the paddy wagon.”

One brow rose. “Paddy wagon?”

She leaned across the consul. “Shut up.”

She kissed him.

From the moment her lips touched his, all was right in the world.

His mouth had been slack with surprise, but he quickly recovered, sliding his hands into her hair, tugging her close, angling her head so they fit perfectly together.

Kay might have been the one to initiate the kiss, but Garret was the one to own it.

To own her .

His tongue slipped inside, tangling with hers. Heat and moisture and . . . fuck but he could kiss good.

Not proper English in the slightest, and her editor would be appalled at her grammar. But as his hands trailed down her spine and his tongue slid in and out of her mouth in a rhythm that had her seeing stars, all she could think was—

Good.

More.

Naked.

Now .

And that was the moment Garret pulled back. He pushed out his door, walked around the front of his car, and opened hers.

He extended a hand, and her desire-addled brain had Kay trailing him mutely to the house. “Keys?” he asked once they’d stopped on the porch.

She blinked, pulled them out of her purse.

Garret snagged them from her, unlocked the door.

Then he kissed her one more time, slipping a hand underneath her coat, wrapping it around her waist, and pulling her flush against him.

His chest hard and his cock . . . well, that was hard, too.

She arched, aching to be closer, for the thin layers of her dress and his clothes to disappear.

His hand slid a little lower, fingertips teasing the top of her ass, before he pulled back with a curse. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart.” And though he was breathing hard, his eyes danced. “Dangerous kisses. Assaulting me with paperbacks—”

Kay felt her cheeks go red. “I’ll have you know, I’m not normally prone to violence.”

A kiss to her forehead as he opened the door.

“I certainly deserved more than the potential risk of a paper cut.”

He nudged her inside.

“It’s ok—”

“Three months,” he said softly and nudged her inside before closing the door, leaving them separated by the planks of wood. “Lock up.” His voice was muffled.

She reached for the handle. “Garret—”

“ Lock up .”

Kay sighed loud enough for him to hear, but her lips were curved.

She locked the door, pulled out her phone, scrolled down to Heather’s number, and shot off a quick text.

“Garret?” she called as she waited.

“Yes?”

Buzz. Buzz.

Her fingers moved furiously across the keyboard . . . and send.

“Kay?”

“There’s my number,” she said.

“What—” He broke off, no doubt felt the buzz of the text she sent him “ Oh .”

“Consider it supervised release.”

He laughed, a loud guffaw that resounded through the door and warmed her heart.

“Goodnight, Garret.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

She heard his footsteps as he crossed the porch and made his way down the steps. Then listened to the slam of the car door and the rev of the engine as it started up. Kay was just starting to shrug out of her coat when her cell buzzed.

Look in your right coat pocket.

“What?”

Her hand darted down, felt something hard and rectangular and—

She pulled out a book.

The book.

She opened it, surprised when a note fell out. Scooping it up from the floor, she unfolded it and read:

Sorry I was late rescuing you. I had something really important I needed to bid on. Heather promised the other books would be delivered next week sometime. I figured you would want to keep this one safe.

-G

When had he found time to write her a note?

But then she smiled, remembered Garret talking to the kid at the coat check stand. He’d been there awhile, longer than it should have taken to just pick up her jacket.

Sneaky man.

Wonderful man.

She held the book to her chest as she typed out a text.

Thank you. So, so much. Then before he could reply, she added, I think you should be up to unsupervised release now.

His response made her laugh aloud.

Two months and twenty-nine days.