Page 3 of Heartstrings & Hijinks

Evan

Things were getting more confusing by the minute.

At one point, there was a policeman. I know because he was cute, but he had a wedding ring.

He might have shined a flashlight in my eyes.

Then, I swore there was an EMT. He got there quickly simply because the ambulance was nearby when the call came in, or so I thought someone said…

It was getting hard to keep track. He also shined a flashlight in my eyes and took my pulse.

“I don’t wanna ride in an ambulance,” I had said. They assured me that sleeping it off would be fine. Or maybe that was wishful thinking? I really could use a nap right then. I really wanted to close my eyes and settle into my dreams.

Was someone coming to get me? Or perhaps I needed to go home. I should just go home.

I moved to stand, but then a hand landed on my shoulder, pushing me back down.

“You’re waiting for your ride, Evan.” The lady—Celia? Cicily? Cynthia?— patted my cheek affectionally. “Just stay put, okay? Last time you tried to walk around, you tripped over your own feet.”

“Oh, that’s right.” It was all coming back to me now. She had my phone. “And you called Hot Gregory or not Gregory?”

The lady chuckled. “Yes, Gregory’s coming to pick you up.”

“Don’t call him Greg,” I said. “He doesn’t like when you call him Greg.”

“I won’t call him Greg.”

I knew the moment he walked into the room—just as I always did—Gregory Alton had a commanding presence, even in my drug-addled brain.

My gaze drifted over to him, then slid past him as the room spun, but I circled back around quick enough, and his muscular build came into view.

Whoever tailored his suits needed a raise.

They sure knew how to frame his shoulders and lean hips perfectly.

Was I spinning on the barstool or was the room spinning?

Was this going to have any lasting effects?

“Please don’t go out with that guy again,” I said to Cynthia. I was sure her name was something with a C. “He’s not a good person. Promise me you won’t go out with him again.”

Cece or Cynthia held my arm, and that was when the room slowed. So it was the barstool spinning. “I promise I won’t go out with him again. I wasn’t even going out with him. He just offered to buy me a drink. I didn’t realize he was going to order one while I was in the restroom.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I said.

“Evan?”

I twisted my head to stare at Gregory. I didn’t get to look at him very often anymore, since he was my boss.

Well, he was a boss at the office where I worked.

Technically he wasn’t my direct boss. Either way, I didn’t get to stare at him often enough.

He was on a totally different floor, and I never saw him.

“I thought I said not to call Hot Gregory?”

Cece looked at me, a question in her eyes. Or maybe it was the room spinning again.

“You said call Gregory.”

“Greg, my brother. This is not Greg. This is Hot Gregory. You can’t call him Greg. I shouldn’t call him Hot Gregory.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking back at Gregory. “He just said Gregory and I found the first one listed.”

“It’s fine. I’m happy to help. Evan?” Gregory put a hand to my cheek. It was warm, and I leaned into it, nuzzling against his palm. Holy strong hands. Did he moisturize? They were soft, but firm. And how did he smell so good? “How are you? Are you all right?”

“Your hands are rougher than I thought they would be, but they’re still soft. How do you do that? They’re warm too.”

I grabbed his hand and held it against my face, then let it trail down my torso. Gregory snatched it away as if it burned him.

I swayed, and he caught me. This time his big hands were on my shoulders.

“Let’s get you home.”

“I don’t think anyone’s at my home,” I said. “Sawyer had to work late. Why didn’t I call Sawyer?” Calling my actual roommate would have made a ton more sense than calling Hot Gregory.

“You will be going to my home.” Gregory wrapped his arm around me. He turned to Cynthia. Cece. Whatever her name was. How many people were around me? “You assure me that he is well? Nothing happened to him? He was cleared by the EMT?”

“Oh, yeah. He just drank the drink down so that I wouldn’t have it. The creep has been arrested. I’m sure the police will want to get a hold of Evan once he’s slept this off, but they’ve said it usually takes about twenty hours for him to feel back to normal.”

“Did they recommend a hospital?”

“No. Not for such a mild dose. As long as he drinks water and gets some sleep, he’ll bounce back quickly.”

“I can make that happen. Evan.” Gregory turned to me. He pulled me into his arms.

Oh, goodness. I could live here forever. He was warm and cozy. How was it that he was touching me so much? I leaned my face against his broad chest. “How often do you work out?”

“Excuse me?” Gregory said.

“You must work out a lot. You’re very firm everywhere, not at all cushy and soft like I thought you might be. Either one would be totally fine—firm muscles, cushy belly. I don’t have a preference, as long as it’s you, Hot Gregory.”

Gregory blinked at me. Oh, I was saying too much. This was why I didn’t drink a lot.

Wait. I didn’t drink tonight. Just one beer and it took me nearly an hour to finish it. Had I finished it?

“What happened to me again? Drugs? Am I going to be fired?”

“Absolutely not,” Gregory said. “You are going to be placed in my car, though. And I think perhaps the quickest way to do that would be to pick you up.”

“Oh, okay. I’m fine with that.” Being swept into my super-secret crush’s arms didn’t sound bad at all.

In theory, I loved the idea of Gregory picking me up. But then the room seemed to overturn itself when Gregory lifted me into his arms and cradled me against his chest.

“Oh, goodness.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” My voice came out all high-pitched and squeaking, but that had to be because of the drugs. I didn’t actually talk like that.

We walked out of the bar. He had his car parked directly in front of it, as if he owned the place.

“Do you own the bar?” I asked.

“No, why would I own the bar?”

“You own a lot of things. Greg says that you have been investing in retail properties for as long as he’s known you.”

“Well, that is accurate, but no, I do not own this bar.”

“You should buy the bar, and then we could have karaoke Friday every day.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Gregory set me down gently in the passenger seat of his sports car.

“This is more cozy than I expected.”

“Well, you might be the first person who’s ever ridden in this car.”

“Second person,” I said. “You’ve ridden in this car.”

Gregory chuckled. “I suppose you are right. I have ridden in this car.”

“I like that.”

“The car?” he asked as he turned it on and began pulling out.

“No. Your laugh. It’s nice. And your smile—when you’re happy, it makes your eyes crinkle. I bet not many people get to see that. That’s probably why your face is so smooth. You have no laugh lines, just frown lines. Do many people get to see you smile?”

“No. They do not.”

“I got to see it. The first time I met you, I got to see you laugh. Now I’m making you laugh today.”

“You are.” Gregory grinned, and I swooned. Or it was just the movement of the car. Either way it made my head spin.

I leaned back into the plush leather. It was so soft, so warm.

“Does this have heated seats? Promise me you won’t fire me.”

“I would never,” Gregory said. “Sounds like you did a brave thing.”

I snorted. “Stupid thing.”

“Sometimes bravery can be stupid.”

How brave and stupid would I be to throw all caution to the wind and try to drag Hot Gregory into bed? Very. No amount of drugs in the world would release my inhibitions enough to try that.