Chapter 38
Beer! Because no great story ever started with someone eating a salad.
I open the door to my house – our house, Adult Suzie reminds me – and nearly run smack dab into Grayson.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your man?”
I roll my eyes before lifting up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “There. Happy now?”
“Yes.” He smiles and his dimples come out to play.
What was I thinking? Why did I only kiss his cheek? I lift up on my tiptoes again, but Grayson places a finger over my mouth before I can reach him. I drop down with a big pout on my face.
“What’s going on? I thought you were working.”
Since there’s a the month-long break between the end of summer school and the start of the fall semester, Grayson took a job with a protective services company. Apparently, there are private companies that provide patrol services to towns. Who knew?
Anyway, it turns out Grayson has some super-duper mega top-secret clearance from his time in the Army. The company couldn’t hire him quick enough. Unfortunately, he works all hours – nights, weekends, you name it. It’s Labor Day weekend and he’s scheduled to work the entire three days. I planned to spend the entire weekend in my brew shack.
“No. I have the weekend off.”
“What? Since when?”
Grayson looks at his watch. “No time to explain. Come on,” he says and picks up two bags. He places his free hand on my back and steers me out the door and toward his truck. “I’ll explain on the way.”
Except he doesn’t explain on his way. He’s being all mysterious. Gosh. I hope he’s not taking lessons from super-spy, Wally. I’m not sure I can live with a mysterious man. I don’t like surprises and I’m nosy as hell.
Maybe he’s taking us on a romantic getaway. Little Susan fans herself with both hands. Shut it, I tell her.
He pulls into the parking lot of the airport. We are going on a romantic getaway! Little Susan is jumping up and down now. There’s no controlling her when she gets like this.
Grayson shuts the car off and turns to me. “Is there any chance I can get you to wear a blindfold and earplugs?”
A blindfold? Earplugs? Little Susan is practically melting. Tell him yes and ask if he brought handcuffs!
I look around. “We’re at an airport. If you bring me in there blindfolded, Homeland Security will have you arrested so fast it will make your head spin.”
Trust me on this. I once made a teensy-weensy, minuscule really, joke about Osama Bin Laden while I was checking in for a flight to Florida for spring break during college. I won’t go into details, but someone did not make it to Florida for spring break that year. That no-fly list stuff is no joke.
“Will you at least agree to the earbuds?” He holds out a pair of brand-spanking-new Beats headphones in bright red.
“Dude, those are not earbuds.”
I don’t mention the price. Grayson loses his mind whenever we talk about money. Maybe because I refuse to let him help pay the mortgage or other bills for the house. Adult Suzie shakes her head. When are you going to stop being stubborn and grow up? I don’t answer her, but the answer is never.
“Please. For me?” He gives me puppy dogs eyes. And with those whiskey-colored eyes of his, I’m helpless to say no. Don’t judge. You couldn’t tell the man no either.
And thus begins the weirdest adventure at an airport ever. I wear the headphones and listen to my brewers' podcast the entire time. The only time I’m allowed to take them off is when the security personnel insist. Then, we’re off speed walking to a gate. Grayson wasn’t kidding when he said we need to rush. The plane is nearly done boarding when we rush on.
“Can I take my headphones off now?” I ask when we take our seats. Grayson cringes. “Am I talking really loud?”
Confession: I totally know I’m talking too loud. What? He’s the one who made me wear headphones through the entire airport like an anti-social bitch.
Instead of yelling at me to keep it down, Grayson uses a tactic of which I wholeheartedly approve. He kisses the daylights out of me. The headphones fall off and the talk of long term yeast storage completely leaves my mind as his tongue explores my mouth and his hands fist into my hair.
He pulls away with a smack and leans his forehead against mine to catch his breath. “Vegas,” he whispers. “We’re going to Vegas.”