She turns to me, all smiles. “Ohhhhh, hello, good morning! You must be Miss Olivia! I am Gracia. I went to your house yesterday. I met Callie.”
“Yes, hi! Thank you so much for doing that! Our apartment looked so good.”
I hold my hand out to shake hers, but she brings me in for a warm, squishy hug.
“What do you want for breakfast? I already made everything Mister John says you like.” She gestures toward the kitchen island, where there’s a stainless-steel chafer set up, like in the breakfast room of a motel but fancier. She holds up the lid to show me perfectly scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. There’s a three-tiered stand holding all of my favorite kinds of fruit. There is also a Belgian waffle maker and a Vitamix blender. “I can make waffles. Smoothie things are in the cupboard here and in the fridge and in the freezer here. I just now made fresh coffee,” she says. “Mister John is in his office. He already ate. What do you want?”
This. I want all of this. Every day.
Gracia reminds me of my mom, if my mom were Hispanic. My heart aches a little for Johnny because I know that’s why he hired her. Johnny has always adored my mom becauseshe’s everything his own mother isn’t. Now he’s hired a Steph Montgomery for himself. Now that I think of it, his driver, Richard, was like a Polynesian Alan Montgomery. It’s like he’s putting together his own West Coast Montgomery clan. That is so fucking sweet.
After eating literally all that Gracia had to offer, I explore the rooms of the house that John didn’t show me last night. I love this house. It’s not at all what I would have pictured for Johnny, and I can’t help but imagine myself living here. It makes me kind of mad that he didn’t invite me here sooner. Or maybe I’m still mad at him for blowing me off last night. Maybe I’m just used to being frustrated and mad at him for something—anything. Because if all of this frustrated energy he’s always stirred up in me isn’t anger, then what is it?
I step inside the large bedroom that’s been turned into a gym. He has an impressive array of exercise machines, a mirrored wall opposite the door, and indeed he has had a ballet barre set up. I lift my leg up onto it to stretch, but it’s too soon after eating.
I can’t help but peek at the iPhone on the speaker dock, curious to know what John listens to when he works out. I’m betting on podcasts. But when I press Play on the remote, Tupac blares from the tiny speakers. He certainly has acclimated to the West Coast. In my mind’s eye, I can picture John lifting to this music, and my body likes what I see there.
It is very inconvenient, how badly I want to see him in person this morning.
I wander down the hall, stopping by the door to his home office. I can hear the Beastie Boys playing at a reasonable volume, which is inconvenient because they always make me horny. It’s definitely not the kind of work culture I would have envisioned for John Brandt, but I am certainly open to being surprised as long as there aren’t snakes involved. The door is half-open, so I knock twice and poke my head in.
John is wearing a form-fitting gray T-shirt and black jeans that instantly make me want to make out with him and also make me angry because I know I can’t. He’s wearing glasses. An expensive-looking blue-rimmed pair that accents his blue eyes and black hair beautifully.
He’s holding up a laptop and is flanked by two geeks in hoodies and a clean-cut young man in a salmon-pink polo shirt that he’s tucked into his jeans.
They all look up at me and stare as if no woman has ever crossed that threshold before.
John smiles, handing his laptop to the guy in the polo shirt. “Good morning, beautiful. Come in.”
Well, gosh. If this is how he’s going to greet me in Nerdville, I may never want to leave.
He meets me halfway and kisses me on the cheek, smelling soapy clean and minty fresh with a hint of Costa Rican coffee. I am so glad he hasn’t shaved yet. “You have breakfast?”
“I did. It was epic—thank you.”
He touches the small of my back. That’s all. It does things to me. My pulse quickens. Heat rises to the surface of my skin. There’s a heaviness in my belly, or is it lightness? A tightness between my legs. I can feel the warm liquid beginning to pool down there. I’m hyperaware of the small of my back at the same time as I feel my entire body waking up the way it does ten minutes into a dance workout. But I remind myself that he’s just doing this because he’s read some instruction manual or something.
“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Olivia. Olivia, this is Sanjay, my personal assistant, and two of my programmers, Mike and Stuart.”
I smile at all of them and wave, but the wordsthis is my girlfriend, Oliviaare ringing in my ears and vibrating through my body. He didn’t use theG-word last night whenhe introduced me to Phil and Teresa. Being referred to as his girlfriend is strange and exciting and sexy, but kind of uncomfortable. Like wearing a brand-new pair of thong panties. I think I can get used to it.
The guys just stare at me, openmouthed, for a few seconds before John tells me I’m welcome to use the gym while he finishes working on something with them. “I’ve looked into the best ballet classes in London. In case you want to drop in on one while we’re there. I know you have to stay fit during the off-season. But let Sanjay know if there’s anything specific you need while we’re there, and he’ll make sure you have it.”
“I only do ballet classes once or twice a week in the summer, actually. I go to the gym more now to cross-train.”
“Interesting. To work on physical imbalances?”
“Exactly. Most of the year we’re working the same muscles over and over, so now’s the time to work on general athleticism.”
He smiles. “I like that. That’s smart.”
I glance over at Sanjay, Mike, and Stuart to confirm that they’re still gaping at me, and yes, they are. Lowering my voice, I say to John, “Could we go somewhere for a minute? To discuss that thing that happened last night, boyfriend?”
He stares at my lips hungrily, letting out a sigh. The way he’s looking at me, even with this tiny, awkward audience, I feel like the climax ofCarmenis being performed in my belly, complete with bullfighting and death threats.
“I would like to have that discussion with you too, Olivia, but I’m working something out with my programmers, and they have to leave in half an hour. Go work out in the gym, and I’ll come join you when I’m done.”
No longer staring at my mouth, he’s watching and waiting for my reaction.
