Page 72 of Not Home Alone

The hesitant optimism in her voice. It’s killing me. I could tell her now. About my dad’s scheming. I could tell her that even if I wanted to live here, even though I really do want the best for this town and its small businesses and its people, it seems inevitable that I have to stay away. “I do have a lot of ideas for the company,” is what I say. “Ethical, sustainable ideas for the factory and the real estate departments. I’ll be honest, I don’t love what The Moody Group is now, but I could make the company and this town great… I just haven’t made a final decision yet.”

“My friend Joy told me your secret,” she says after a quiet moment. “She told me that you’ve been taking care of business behind the scenes for years. Cleaning up after your brother and sister.”

“She did?”

“Why do you keep it a secret?”

Shrugging, I say, “It’s easier this way. If Ava or Todd knew, their egos would get involved, and they’d actually try to do things themselves and they’d screw things up even worse. It’s better if they don’t care and don’t know that I’m the one steering the ship.”

“Uh huh,” she says. “And you think I have a problem with doing work for my coworkers.”

“Fair. But that event planning business isn’t your company. You’re an employee with a fixed salary, right? There’s no benefit to you doing extra work.”

She starts to say something, then goes quiet while considering this. But she continues absentmindedly stroking my finger. “Okay,” she says softly. “I see what you mean. That’s a different way of thinking about it.”

I take a deep breath and say, “Honestly, I can’t think straight about anything right now, Merrily.” I look down at her fingers and my hand, and then down at the bulge in my jeans.

“Oh my goodness,” she says, innocently. Slowly, she pulls her hand away, grinning sheepishly. “I honestly didn’t realize I was… Please forgive me.” She pushes herself up off her chair and comes over to stand in front of me. Tilting her head to one side, studying the way I’m sitting, the tilt and angles of the chair, she seems to be doing some kind of sexual math, and I want to be a part of the equation.

I just stare up at her, my hands gripping the armrests, when all I want to do is grab her and pull her down to sit on my lap. Let her tell me what she wants for Christmas so I can give it to her. But I will wait for the naughty elf to come to her own conclusion.

She takes off her coat, grabs the blanket and wraps it around her shoulders so it’s like a cape, and straddles me. Just straddles my lap. No grinding or rocking. She pulls the sides of the blanket over my shoulders, tucking them between me and the back of the chair. She is blanketing me in the kind of warmth I haven’t felt in such a long time. The kind of affection I haven’t been able to admit to myself that I’ve craved.

I stroke her hips while she studies my face for a minute. “Do you think maybe you were afraid your family wouldn’t thank you or praise you if they did find out?”

I suck in a breath, considering this. “I mean. They aren’t big on genuine praise or gratitude in general. But that feels right.”

“It sounds like a lonely life, Grant,” she says, gently. “Doing all of that without people knowing who you really are.”

“It’s not that big of a deal…” And yet, when I say it out loud, it doesn’t sound true. I have never consciously thought of myself as lonely, but now that I’m talking to Merrily about things that are real and true, I can see that she’s right. “Yeah,” I say, unable to look at her. “It was a lonely life. I was lonely.” But I don’t feel that way now, with you, is what I want to say. I should be able to say it.

She takes my head in her hands and invites me in, guides me to rest my face against her breasts. I wrap my arms around her waist, under the blanket, and bury my face into her soft sweater. Wrapped up in her. She combs her fingers through my hair and kisses the top of my head. It’s nurturing in a way that cracks me open, just a little.

“Merrily, I can’t think of one reason why you should give me another chance, but I want you to believe me when I say that I never want to hurt you again. Okay?” I pull back so I can look her in the eyes. Taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I say, “I can’t promise that I won’t, because I can’t control everything. I’d like to. But I can’t. I just need you to promise me you’ll believe that I really like you, and I’m trying to do the right thing.”

She nods. It’s only a whisper, but she says, “I believe in you, Grant.”

And it turns out those are the five words I needed to hear.

Those five words change everything.

I kiss her the way she deserves to be kissed. With all my heart and soul. Even if it isn’t enough, I kiss her with everything I have to give her.

We kiss like this for I don’t even know how long, but I feel dizzy. Am I getting drunk off the whiskey on her tongue? Or is this what falling in love feels like?

Or maybe it’s that Merrily Tucker is massaging my erection so delicately that I didn’t even notice because it feels like an extension of the kindness she’s showing me.

“I like you so much,” I say into her mouth.

“I like you a lot too,” she says, and I can hear her smiling.

I reach under her sweater, slide my hand inside her leggings, her panties, both of us moaning as I languidly rub her clitoris with stiff fingers. She is so slick with arousal, and I never knew I could be so turned on by quiet acceptance. Merrily starts rocking back and forth. Holding my face, she kisses up my jaw, tugs at my earlobe with her teeth, sucks it into her mouth. I slip two fingers inside her and exhale as she clenches around them. She’s so wet, dripping into the palm of my hand.

“Baby, you feel so good.” I don’t even know if I say it out loud, but it’s all I’m thinking. Every cell in my body loves the way she feels.

“Grant,” she whispers into my ear.

I wait for her to say something else. But that was the whole sentence. And that is enough.