“Of course. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
He gives me one last wave before he steps into his house.
I do the same, dropping to sit on my sofa in a daze.
Oh my god.
Oh. My. God.
I don’t have a so-called crush, no. I’m full-on crushing on Simon Stone.
CHAPTER TEN
SIMON
I’ve been outside for an hour and have written a whole three sentences. Which I’ve deleted and rewritten about six times. I know the scene and what needs to happen, but my focus is on the house next door, not the words on my screen.
I haven’t seen Greer since Friday night. It’s Sunday morning now. A whole day without Greer and hell, I know I’m here just waiting to catch a glimpse of her. All it took was five days of her being at my house for me to get comfortable with it. For me to want more of it.
Maybe I just like having her around because it’s different from what Grey and I are used to.
A man on his bike rides by, catching my eye, but of course, I think it’s Greer, so I look at her house once again.
I sigh and lean back.
I shouldn’t like Greer, but it’s clear I do. Very fucking clear. At this point, there’s no way she can’t know that I’m attracted to her.
I know her. I know her better than I should. Even before she was working for me, Calla would talk about her. Greer wants to get married and have kids. She wants the whole shebang. House, kids, big Christmas, birthdays with balloon banners, and family photos lining the walls in her entryway.
I get it.
As a man who likes his life the way it is, wanting her is not a smart idea. Doing anything about it is also not a smart idea, and yet, on Friday night, I was so close. Too close. I just wanted a taste. Hell, she touched my thigh. No, she gripped my thigh, squeezed it, and I swear flashes of all the things that grip in other places took over: Greer gripping the sheets as I thrust into her, gripping my hair as I lick her core, gripping my cock until I whisper her name in her ear. It was a five-second span, but yeah, all those scenarios crossed my mind.
It didn’t help that she asked what I wrote that day. I was at the stage of my writing where I needed to knock out the word count, and my go-to is always to write a sex scene on those days. So I couldn’t help but think of how she’d react if I told her. Would she like it? I want her to like it. I’m not afraid to admit that I want to impress Greer. I don’t need approval, but knowing how my books might make her feel interests me.
I’ve heard of readers making comments about reading certain scenes with one hand. It makes me both cringe and grin at the fact I did my job right. What does Greer think when she reads those scenes?
I clear my throat just as Tobias’s truck pulls up in front of my house. I wasn’t expecting him, so I shut my computer and stand.
He rounds the front of his truck.
“Working on a Sunday?”
Was I? Or was I pretending just so that I could catch Greer?
“A little,” I say and nod to his truck. “Early morning drive? I’m only out here because Grey is still crashed in bed.”
“It’s just after eight. I thought I’d grab a coffee and stop by.”
I cross my arms and study him. He’s fidgety, and he’s not even holding a coffee cup.
I lift my mug. “Want me to go grab you a cup?”
He sighs, clearly distracted. “Sure, I’ll wait here.”
He sits, dropping his head and rubbing his neck.
