She shrugs. “Fine. How about a dog?”
“I don’t want a pet,” I say. “I don’t want to worry about coming home early to let a dog out or spending money to board one when I have to travel to an academic conference.”
She nods. “Fair enough, but then you have to find a way to relax and not let your imagination run wild. You’ll give yourself an ulcer.”
I hug Celena and thank her for coming over before I head back inside to put away my groceries.
I put away the perishables first, then grab my peanut butter. I go to shelve it but jerk to a halt and drop the jar as I’m confronted with my seventy-eight-year-old neighbor walking around his living room in his underwear.
The shade to my kitchen window is up again.
Chapter 37
Ash
I’m distracted the next day when I get on the plane to Florida for so many reasons, not the least of which is that it will be my first time playing my old team. They know me, and more importantly, they know my weaknesses. To say I’m worried is an understatement.
More than that, I’m worried about Gray. I slept at her place last night after she called me, panicked, to say her shade was open again and that she thought she was being followed at the grocery store.
The grocery store was definitely my guy. He called to tell me Gray spotted him and that he’d needed to break off surveillance, so I had him switch places with the woman watching Drew.
I still have someone watching Gray’s house when she isn’t home as well, and that guy swore he didn’t see anyone around her property, so the shade is still a mystery. I suggested to Gray, and half to myself, that maybe the shade was broken now and that it keeps creeping up on its own.
She seemed to buy that explanation about as much as I myself did, and I searched the house casually for more notes or ‘gifts’ while I was there. Whoever broke in before didn’t leave any more rose petals anywhere, though.
Gray regaled me last night with the story of how she attempted to catch someone tailing her home from the grocery store by watching for cars behind her, then getting off and back on the highway. A small part of me was amused by her 007 efforts, but a larger part felt guilty at contributing to her anxiety and paranoia.
When I get back from this road trip, I need to tell her about thesecurity team I have following her. It’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to, since I expect her to be angry, and she’ll inevitably want to know why I had the team following her in the first place.
The whole situation makes me mad. Mad there’s some sicko out there stalking my woman and scaring her. Mad I have to get on this plane and travel halfway around the country when I should be taking care of her. Mad that having to worry about Gray is distracting me from a game I love so I can’t play my best.
I work myself into a frenzy as I head down the aisle of the plane, all the tension I relieved by having morning sex with Gray now gone.
We went to bed last night without doing anything, but I woke this morning to her stroking my cock. She apologized when I asked what she was doing, and she said something about getting my consent first next time. I told her she always had my consent to grab my cock, and I let her stroke me a little longer until I couldn’t stand it. Then I pulled her over and let her ride me until we both came hard.
The memory almost calms me until I jerk to a halt in the middle of the aisle and look down to find Kingston’s hand once again wrapped around my forearm. He opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t give him the chance.
“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit, Kingston,” I say, yanking my arm out of his grip. “Keep your fucking comments to yourself.”
I start to head down the aisle again but stop and look back at him. His mouth hangs open, and I’m sure no one has dared to talk to him like that in the recent past.
“And another thing,” I say, “Celena isn’t interested in you, so just back off and leave her the fuck alone.”
I turn and stalk down the aisle, only vaguely aware the plane has gone dead-silent as everyone has stopped what they’re doing. They’re waiting to see what Kingston will do, but I don’t give a shit. I shove my carryon into the overhead compartment and thump into the window seat.
Kelsier makes it to the row about half a minute later and waits for meto look up at him.
“You okay there, Gunny?” he asks, wary amusement on his face.
“Not one God damn word,” I tell him.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Not a word,” he says. “I mean, Kingston will probably beat the shit out of you later, but at least for now you have him too shocked to do anything.”
I look up over the seats and see the top of Kingston’s head several rows ahead of me, the band for his headphones in place over his black hair. He won’t confront me now, but Kelsier’s right. I’m probably in for it after our game.
Kelsier stows his bag and sits down next to me. He starts to put his seatbelt on but then frowns and inhales deeply through his nose. “Do you smell like…lavender?”
I sniff my shoulder, and Gray’s scent fills my head. Lavender is a soothing scent to begin with, but instinctively I know the sudden calming effect I feel has more to do with Gray herself than aromatherapy.
