Page 17 of You First
The invitation set his heart racing. Gray realized he very much wanted to go outside and sit beside the beautiful girl. If he’d seen her sitting on a bench four months ago, he would have found a reason to talk to her, and he had no doubt — no matter the circumstances — it would have made him feel better.
But now? Like this? No way.
Gray:My head is killing me.
He smiled a bitter smile at the perfection of that statement. This, technically, wasn’t a lie.
Meredith stood, threw the ball one last time, and started toward the house. She waited at the top of the porch steps, and Gray heard her calling the dogs inside. The sound of the door closing let him know they were in, so he moved back to his bedroom door to listen.
The scratch of the dog’s nails on his wood floors told him they were scrambling to the kitchen. It was almost Vulcan and Juno’s dinner time, and the game of catch had riled them up. They tore into his walk-in pantry off the kitchen where he kept their food bowls. Too late, Gray realized that the door separating the utility room and his bathroom wasn’t shut, and an excited Juno bounded through and into his bedroom.
Gray froze.
Juno stared at him impatiently and jumped back, throwing her head in the direction of the pantry. Gray stood, trapped in the middle of his room. In seconds, Meredith would follow the dog and find him standing there, clearly not bedridden with a headache.
“Juno!”
He heard her hissed whisper.
“Come back here.”
Always obedient, Juno turned and disappeared into his bathroom.
“Leave your daddy alone,” she said, and then, to his surprise, he heard the door between his bathroom and the pantry click closed.
Gray texted as fast as he could.
Gray:They want their dinner. Would you mind feeding?
He heard Meredith’s phone ping through the closed door.
Meredith:Found dog food. How much do they get?
Gray:About a scoop each. V gets a little more than J.
He heard her serving the dogs, and he typed again.
Gray:Thank you.
She didn’t respond to this, but a few minutes later he caught the distinct sounds of dishes clinking in the sink and water running. The whir of the sprayer told him she filled up the basin. Meredith was cleaning up after him.
Shit.
Gray:Please stop. Doing my dishes isn’t your responsibility.
She’d either set down her phone, or she was ignoring him, because the sounds of her work never ceased. Gray sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing his darkened bathroom. He had half a mind to walk out and stop her. Gray had never hired a housekeeper — even after his first six-figure book deal. He didn’t believe in paying someone to clean up his messes. Once a person did that, he felt they lost touch with real life. His parents — who ran a successful imports company and had means to staff the entire house — had raised all of their children this way — to be responsible, self-sufficient, and humble. Besides, pushing a broom or scrubbing a tub provided the mind with a perfect opportunity to dream, and books came from dreaming.
Beyond all that, he felt that paying someone to clean up after him was an affront to their dignity. He hated the thought of doing that to the radiant girl in his kitchen.
“Meredith?” he called, his heart pounding again.
The water shut off. “Yes, sir?”
Oh, Jesus.He cringed, putting his head in his hands.
“Please don’t call mesir,and please don’t do the dishes.”
He heard her walk into the pantry, and Gray held his breath.
