Chapter Four
Harry
Two days after the bungee-jumping, I sit in my office spinning around and around in the chair. With every rotation, the horoscope website flits into my view. I don’t stop long enough to read it for a while, as mystification clamps on to me like a damn vise.
The plan was to sucker her in and then give her the emotional sucker-punch of going full ghost on her, but ever since I held her lithe, primed body against me during the bungee-jump, I can’t get her musical laughter out of my head.
It bounces around like a pinball, playing over and over and motherfuckingover.
Finally, I stop, moving the mouse cursor over the text of the horoscope.
Yesterday’s was about being wary, which I appreciated. Because that’s exactly what I need to do with Grace, unless I want to be sucked in by her unruly lavender-smelling hair …
Whatisthat shampoo she uses? All I know is it drives me half-feral.
I shake my head and grab my espresso, knocking back the blue mug and letting the caffeine burn sweetly down the walls of my throat. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it’s close, pre-dawn, and my office glows with the mixed light of the corner lamp and the red tinged sunrise.
I grab my tennis ball and squeeze it, hoping to work out some of the pressure that builds up in my body whenever I think of Grace.
I’ve never bantered with a woman like this before … well, not since her.
It goes beyond the physical which, for a bloke like me, is saying a damned lot.
Not thatherphysical is a fine form I’d ever dream kicking out of bed.
Goddamn, this is way more complicated than I thought it was going to be.
You’re a passionate person, my horoscope reads.
They’ve got that right.
So follow your passions. Don’t let your doubts rule you. Set your sights on a target and go after it without fear. If you chart your course bravely, success will surely be the outcome.
I toss the tennis ball at the wall, letting it bounce back and hit the wall behind me. With another audiblethump, it bounces toward my desk. I snatch my hand out like an attacking viper, catching it without looking.
At least my reflexes didn’t fade away with my soccer career.
Silver linings and all that.
The horoscope tells me that success will be the outcome. Fine … but what the hell does success look like? Is success hurting Grace for dumping me?
Or is success having more opportunities to get close to her, to hear her sharp-witted tongue, to feel her heat-infused body?
I pick up my landline phone, which is inlaid with oak to match my desk – a man’s gotta have a bespoke item every now and then – and call Nick. After several high-pitched rings, he answers, sounding groggy.
“Is there a fire, mate?” he says. “This is early, even for you.”
“There are some caves not too far away, aren’t there? Arrange an excursion for this afternoon.”
“Uh, okay …”
“What?” I say, gripping the phone hard, feeling the material bite into my sweaty palm. Jesus, even thinking about Grace and her cerulean eyes gets me worked up. “Is it about money? Are the caves too far away?”
“No,” Nick says, sounding more awake now. “I think it’s only an hour’s drive or so. And these excursions are actually good for business. Four sponsorship connections were made the day of the bungee-jumping.”
“What, then?” I snarl.
“No, it’s nothing bad, boss,” Nick says. “I’m just happy, that’s all. I haven’t seen you like this since we were kids. And the way you’re getting more involved with the fitness activities, it’s great. Seriously, mate, it’s like the old you is coming back.”
