Alpha Billionaire Series
Loving the One I Should Hate Chapter 4

GRANT

A month later

"Grant! Good to see you. Having a little get together later, make sure you come over!"

I waved to my neighbor, Scott, as he yelled at me as soon as I got out of the car. I stretched. Sitting in the car, lap of luxury vehicle or not, got tiring after a few hours. And it had been a couple of hours. Even though I left Chicago early to minimize road time and maximize lake time- I still got caught in traffic extending the drive.

Crossing the back deck, I pulled the garbage can back into its alcove, wind or raccoons having moved it in the months since I had been back. I unlocked the door and the beeping started. With a few taps I had the alarms disarmed, and the beeping stopped. I crossed through the first floor opening windows, letting the stale air out of the house. From the kitchen, I crossed the great room with its open floor plan and stone fireplace and walked out the front. The lake sparkled and beckoned with the promise of a lazy relaxing week. Long weekend. Mina and Dylan ganged up on me and made me promise not to return before Wednesday.

The impressive entry with natural wood beams and large picture windows faced the lake. The house was built with a lake-centric floor plan keeping the back utility deck and garage facing the street. The front deck was the selling point of this house for me with its fire pit and uninterrupted sloping lawn. The dock was even tucked off to the side. I could sit and watch the water for hours on end.

I pulled tarps from deck chairs and made a mental list of all the chores that needed doing. I should have opened the lake house sooner. There were things that needed my attention that kept me in the city. I opened the garage and plugged my Orca electric jet ski into the charger station. I'd push it out to the dock when I got back, and it had some power.

With my shopping list in the forefront of my mind, I locked the door and headed out. First stop was the warehouse store to stock up on household necessities and paper products for the season. I only wanted to buy paper towels once a year. I wasn't big on running errands.

I heard her laugh before I saw her. She radiated an energy that pulled me in. I felt like a moth being willingly sucked into the light of a bug zapper. I knew it was dangerous, but it was so pretty. Her smile practically brought tears to my eyes. She was that rare beauty that Renaissance and Baroque painters had tried repeatedly to capture. Skin that called out to be touched. Lips with enough pout to make kissing a pleasure. Doe-like eyes rimmed in long dark lashes hiding an inner sadness. Her laughter and smile didn't quite make it to her eyes. Da Vinci, in all of his mastery, would not have been able to capture her vitality.

Her hair was dark and glossy. Her figure was a bounty of soft promises. She was one of those bits of beauty the world teased you with, never to be seen again. I found myself following her and her friend around the store at a distance.

I convinced myself I was admiring her beauty when I was really staring hard at how her a*s bounced in those cut-offs as she walked. She was a joy ride on legs. I didn't think it had been so long since I had enjoyed the company of a woman that I was reduced to drooling over some local girl with a pretty grin and good teeth. When I found myself in an aisle full of baking supplies, I knew I needed to get a grip.

The only grip I wanted involved handfuls of her ass. I shook reality back into my head and made a beeline for the cooler section. I needed beer. I wanted to think I was in control of my actions, but I was thinking with my d**k, and it kept wanting to point at her like some kind of dowsing rod.

I forced myself to the checkout. My next stop was the drug store. Bug spray, ecologically safe sunscreen, more Nexium. When I saw her pass in front of the store's front window and caught a glimpse of that ass that turned grown men into whimpering fools, specifically me, I grabbed a box of condoms. Maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe it was strategic planning. Either way, if I found myself in her company with the opportunity, I was going to be prepared.

Seeing her twice was a lucky fluke. I wasn't a gambling man, but if I was, I would say seeing her more than once was good luck and I should fly her out to Vegas to play cards. I still needed to hit the grocery store before I was done. Of course, I could have purchased food at the warehouse, but I didn't need a dozen chicken breasts for one man for five days. Regular store proportions suited me better.

I was carefully reviewing my ice cream options in the frozen food section when I heard her voice again. It cut straight to my groin. I couldn't remember another time I had thought a woman's voice was so damned sexy. Her voice was sweet and smooth. If honey had a sound, rich with clarity and warmth, it would be her voice.

I stepped an inch deeper into the cold air of the freezer hoping the cold air would slow down my libido. I was seconds away from walking over and introducing myself. Not a good look on an adult man. It smacked of desperation. I was far from being desperate. She simply had that effect on me.

"Should we get frozen margarita mix?" she asked.

"Duh, of course, we should," her friend said.

I wanted to agree and add that I had a Vitamix. It blended margaritas perfectly. I said nothing. I held as still as I could as she opened the door to the section next to where I stood. She was so close I could almost reach out and touch her hair. Almost, if there hadn't been two glass doors between us. I needed to get out of there before I did something asinine. I took the two flavors I was contemplating and headed to the checkout.

Back at the house, I unpacked my shopping. With a beer in hand, I headed outside to look at the water and contemplate the messed-up choices of my life. That girl had crossed my path three times in one day. And like some high school nerdling who was afraid of girls, I talked myself out of saying anything to her. There had been opportunities presented and I sidestepped them each time.

I took a pull of my beer and wondered if I would ever see her again. If I did, I was going to man the f**k up and introduce myself.

The smell of grilled meat drifted over from Scott's patio. I had a cool beer and a lawn chair. The quiet and solitude of the lake were beginning to have their relaxing effect on me. I didn't want to move. Scott's place was only a hundred yards or so across the lawn. I should go, be neighborly.

I just wasn't feeling up to being social. He had quite the crowd on his deck. Did he really know everyone? I doubted it.

I caught a glimpse of shiny dark hair. It couldn't be that woman I kept seeing. That was too much of a coincidence. I recognized her friend. She just needed to turn around, and... her profile was that of an angel. I couldn't believe I had never seen her before, and somehow today I kept running into her.

I eased my ass out of the chair and crossed the lawn.

"Grant! You decided to make it. I know, I know the first day of the season is always the most work. All the more reason to sit over here and relax. You get that fancy jetski out yet? Do you need a beer?" Scott yelled more than he used a speaking voice. Everyone now knew my name, even without being introduced.

I lost sight of my beautiful, omnipresent angel.

I crossed over to where Scott sat, a middle-aged man with his leg propped on another chair, and a towel and bag of ice propped against his ankle. "What's this all about?" I asked, indicating his leg.

"Tripped over that damned dog. It's always under foot. But Gracie thinks it's her baby. She loves it more than she loves me. Get yourself a beer."

I held up the one I walked over with. "I'm good."

"I've got the McMillan kid running the grill. Go make sure he isn't turning everything into jerky. Bring me back a beer."

I patted him on the shoulder and crossed to the opposite side of his patio under the guise of checking on the grill master, some kid I didn't know. I really was looking for that beautiful woman. This was an appropriate place to introduce myself to her, not in the frozen food section of the nearest Piggly Wiggly.

"You McMillan?" I asked a twenty-something young man. I had been expecting a teenager.

"Another critic sent over by Scott?"

I held my hands up. "Hey man, I was sent over so I could report back, and get the man another beer. I promise, you know more about what you are doing than I do. It smells great, is Scott-"

"Riding my ass like a jockey in the derby? Hell yeah."

"Then why help him out?" I asked.

"Gracie puts out a great spread, and I like the old geezer."

I didn't think of Scott as 'geezer' aged, then again, I wasn't in my twenties any more. I remember at that age thinking anyone over thirty was old.

"I'll put in a good report for you."

The cooler opened with a creek. I fished out two beers and carried them back to Scott, keeping my eyes open the entire time.

"Good man," Scott bellowed as I handed him both beers. "How long are you up for? You need to go out on the barge with me."

Gracie, Scott's wife, sashayed up to him. Her hair was pulled back under a visor, and she wore pressed golfing shorts. Her arms were already deeply tanned. Unlike my pale winter coloring that I hoped to correct this weekend.

"Is Scott talking about that new party barge of his? That one is just an open deck on a pontoon, and he won't stop talking about it. Yes dear," she bent over him and kissed him on the cheek- "we are very happy for you and your new toy. Grant, please for the love of all that is holy, go out on the lake with Scott."

She gave me an exaggerated put-upon grimace.

I laughed. "For you Gracie, anything."

Over Gracie's shoulder I saw my quarry. Laughing and smiling and walking in the opposite direction

"Excuse me, Gracie."