Incidental Fate Book 1

3

Grant had canceled our dinner plans at the last minute, so I decided to open a new bottle of wine and waste my Saturday night watching some sappy romantic comedy.

I was only five minutes from his university; how hard was it for him to visit his mom every once in a while? We'd spent every day for the last eighteen years together, and now I was lucky if I saw him once every few weeks. He had become inconsiderate too. I could have gone out with the girls tonight or maybe agreed to go on a date with Kirk finally. I mean, the poor guy had been asking me out for months.

I held the now half-empty bottle of wine in my hand, tipping it against my glass just as the doorbell chimed, startling me, the wine swooshing. Of course, Grant would show up, hours late and nearly an entire bottle of wine later. "I'm coming!" I walked over, pulling the door open to both greet and chastise him at the same time. "Hey, Sweetie."

"Hello." Dark eyes and a devilish grin greeted me—the same face that had starred in my dreams every night.

Was I that drunk? I stared a minute longer, letting my brain catch up with my eyes. "Gavin? What are you doing here?"

He pulled up a wooden planter from his side, handing it over to me. "I stopped by the last few days, but you weren't home."

He... he brought a planter. This was getting weird. I couldn't tell if this was a massive prank or if he was some asshole frat boy on a mission. "I was at the hospital. You could have just left that on the patio."

He pushed his way in, eyes narrowing on me. "Why were you at the hospital?" he demanded as if he was entitled to an explanation.

"I—" I stumbled back, hitting the table behind me. "I work there. I'm a nurse."

"A nurse?" he repeated as that stern glare morphed to a mischievous smile.

I started back for the couch, calling over my shoulder. "Thank you for the planter. You can set it on the table." I dropped back onto my cushions, taking another sip from my glass.

"What are you watching?"

He was still here. I looked over, watching as he closed the front door, starting for the couch too. "I don't know," I giggled inadvertently. "I'm mostly just drinking." I raised my glass in salute, meeting his heavy stare. "But you should probably go."

"Really?" he said it almost to himself. "No one's ever told me to leave."

"I'm not surprised." With those eyes, that hair, that smile, that body. I'm sure no was a foreign word to him. "Go, you don't want to miss your curfew."

His eyes flared, body going rigid, standing in front of the couch, facing me directly. "I'm twenty-two. I don't have a fucking curfew."

Twenty-two. That man was only twenty-two. "Well, I'm sure you have better things to do with your evening."

"Actually," he continued to the cushions, sitting at the opposite end. "My night's free."

"So is mine." I laughed again, the wine making it hard to stay mad. "Grant flaked on me."

"He's an idiot, sorry." He threw his palm up in apology.

"How do you not have plans on a Saturday night? No frat parties? Hot dates?" What the hell was he doing here?

He laughed under his breath, tossing his arm up over the back of the couch. "I'm not in a frat, and I'm working on a hot date," he teased, mocking me.

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky girl?" I sipped the last of my glass, shaking the empty bottle before setting it aside.

"You think she'd be lucky?" He smiled to himself. "Just one of the sexiest fucking women I've ever seen."