First Impressions Read online

  First Impressions

  M.A. Grant

  Published by M.A. Grant, 2022.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  FIRST IMPRESSIONS

  First edition. October 18, 2022.

  Copyright © 2022 M.A. Grant.

  ISBN: 979-8201935887

  Written by M.A. Grant.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Further Reading: Last Chances

  Also By M.A. Grant

  About the Author

  For Angie--

  Thank you for introducing me to romance novels!

  To my husband--

  Back in the saddle again.

  Cover designed by Paper & Sage.

  Chapter 1

  Nothing ruins a lazy, post-cast party morning more than a phone alarm going off. I don’t bother to open my eyes, just swat half-heartedly at the nightstand. No phone. Huh.

  If I let it go on long enough, it’ll shut off on its own. Besides, my bed is warm and comfortable and all I want to do is snuggle in deeper under the comforter.

  “What the hell?”

  Adrenaline hits when the rough, masculine grumble reaches my ears. It’s a familiar voice. One I’ve heard before. One I’ve heard often. One that shouldn’t be in my bed.

  The phone shuts off and the man answers, “Jacobs.”

  I flip over and my world crashes down around my head in tiny, burning pieces.

  Lying there next to me is a muscular, blond god I’ve simultaneously hated and drooled over for years—Jake Jacobs, my best friend Catherine’s older brother.

  He’s still talking into the phone when I grab the sheet and lift it up. Oh crap, he’s naked. Gorgeous and totally, everything-hanging-out, let’s-make-it-a-good-morning naked.

  “Shit!” he swears into his phone when the sheet disappears from his nether regions. He tries to snag it back at the same moment I fling myself to the furthest edge of my bed, out of range of his ... virile man parts.

  As a result, I get tangled in the sheet and fly back towards him. He drops his phone as we collide, my elbow slamming into his ribs, my legs flailing and connecting with something I should not ever, ever have come to know as well as I apparently did last night.

  “Let go, let go!” I protest, struggling to crawl off him. Whether I escape to my side of the bed or fall onto the floor, anything to stop the physical contact between us will work.

  His muscles flex under my hands, his hips rock, and we both freeze. My face burns, my nipples tighten, and the fluid heat between my legs is straight out of not-as-drunk-as-I’d-like memories of some really good times a few hours earlier. They’re coming back with a vengeance now.

  Even after taking a hit seconds ago, he’s back at attention. His eyes fasten on my breasts, which dangle dangerously close to his talented mouth. Oh, I shouldn’t know that ...

  “Jake ...” I warn. My voice only trembles a little.

  His brown eyes meet mine and I squirm at the open lust there. Squirming isn’t my best idea ever.

  His head pushes back against the pillow as the broad crown of his penis slips inside me. His neck muscles cord and he growls something foul when I accidentally moan.

  It’s not my fault. He’s not supposed to feel good.

  I can’t decide if I’m grateful or disappointed when his hands clamp down on my hips, arresting any further movement.

  “Maya, I swear to God if you move again, I will not be held responsible for what happens.”

  I snort at that. Jake’s always been a control freak. Totally makes sense that even now, in this compromising position, he’d try to boss me around.

  “I don’t remember everything about last night in great detail,” he continues, “but I do remember that we used up all the condoms you had here. So teasing me at this god-awful hour of the morning when my willpower is pretty much non-existent probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  Ah. Valid point.

  I hold still and Jake takes a few deep breaths. After a few seconds, I realize the strange noise I’m hearing is coming from his phone speaker. It sounds shockingly like laughter.

  “Nelson!” Jake barks at the phone, unable to reach it without me sliding further onto him. “Hang up, you son of a–”

  Call ended. The screen goes black.

  How to start the awkward conversation I know is coming?

  “How the hell did this happen?”

  “We saw each other at the bar last night.”

  Right. “I was at the cast party.”

  “And the guys and I were taking Travis out to celebrate his news.”

  I remember Travis and his wife from some of the barbeques the firefighters have had over at Jake and Catherine’s house. They’re a cute couple, the kind that looks like it could be featured on some Hallmark card. “What news?”

  “He and Lisa are having a kid.”

  “Oh, yay for them.” I genuinely mean it. Still, awkward silence descends.

  I clear my throat. “So how did we end up in bed together?”

  “Your skeezy ex showed up.”

  Oh God, snippets are returning. They’re not pretty. “Richard ...”

  “I chased him off. You bought me a drink.”

  My nose wrinkles. “We fought.”

  “We always fight.”

  I glare at him and push some of my curls behind my ear. “It’s not my fault you’re always such an ass.”

  He snorts. “Fine. We fought because I’m an ass. Then you grabbed my crotch and kissed me–”

  “Hey, mister! I did not grab your crotch!”

  “Didn’t you know you’re a horny drunk? I could barely pry your fingers off me.”

  “I seem to remember you were the one who did the kissing and my hand just happened to get stuck between us.”

  He presses up a little with his hips. “What, did you think it was some magic lamp that would grant a wish and set your hand free?”

  My hips roll with his in an instinctual reaction. Too bad his smug expression ruins the moment. I arch my back, lifting myself off him. “Argh! This is what I mean about you being an ass!”

  “You called me something else last night. Remember?”

  Bastard. Mostly because he’s right. Parts of the night are hazy, but the things I remember all too well are the orgasms that rocked through me. His hoarse grunts melded with my cries of pleasure. The salt of sweat on his skin. And the stupid, stupid, insane thought which crossed my mind sometime around two in the morning when we were on condom number four: I really wish we could do this again.

  He’s watching too intently for me to lie. I hedge the truth. “I remember that last night was ... good.”

  “Good?” His voice is flat, but his arched eyebrow challenges my assessment.

  “Enjoyable,” I compromise. A strange fluttering sensation works itself up through my stomach. Afraid I’ll give in to the impulse to finish sliding down onto him, I crawl off completely and wrap myself in the sheet. Forcing conviction I don’t really feel into my voice, I tell him, “It can never happen again.”

  “Agreed.”

  His acquiescence is surprising. “Really?”

  He stretches, a movement that lifts his muscular chest first, then the impressive tent of sheet around his hips. “Look, we had a good time, but I think we both know we could really screw this up if we aren’t careful.”

  The mental image of Catherine’s face when I tell her I’m fooling around with her brother makes me wince. “Definitely.”

  “So we part ways and agree to act like it never happened.” He gets up out of bed, giving me a spectacular view of his ass as he bends down to pick up his pants.

  “Okay. Never happened.”

  “Won’t happen again.”

  “Nope.”

  His zipper rasps as it’s raised. “I’ve gotta get to work. See if I can somehow bribe Nelson to keep his fat mouth shut.”

  “Jake?”

  He glances back at me. The dark, inked wings of a phoenix shift on his shoulder blades as he starts to shrug into his shirt.

  “Do you promise we can keep this from getting awkward? I mean, we see each other all the time ...”

  “Maya, I promise I won’t make this awkward if you don’t.”

  I know from talking to Catherine that Jake’s promises are law. The grim set of his jaw and squaring of his shoulders before he finishes covering himself add more weight to his words.

  “Have a good day at work,” I say, adding a fake, cheery smile.

  He nods and grabs his phone off the ground, leaving me disheveled and disconcerted in the mess of a bed that smells like sex. Still, there could be worse ways to start the day.

  “So, you got lucky last night?”

  I slam the mop into the bucket and lift it as fast as I can manage, throwing water hard at Nelson. He sputters when it connects, but my childish reaction doesn’t deter his line of questioning.

  “Who’s Maya?”

  “Nobody,” I growl under my breath and scrub at the bay floor with renewed vigor.

  “One night special, huh?” Nelson shakes his head admiringly. “I knew you got play, Jacobs. And keeping the details to yourself .
.. classy, I guess.”

  He watches me hopefully and I keep my mouth shut. When I turn my back on him, he lets out a sigh. The wet swish of his mop signals my freedom from his curiosity.

  Too bad I can’t escape my own thoughts.

  Nelson’s way off base. I don’t get play. There’s never time. A fumbling prom night in high school is the only thing that’s kept me from being a virgin, but these past few years since Mom and Dad’s deaths ... Yeah, sex has been the last thing on my mind.

  So why’d you go home with her? You knew what was coming.

  I’ve got answers, but none of them are good. The most truthful—and by far worst—reason is because last night, for the first time, Maya actually seemed glad to see me and I liked it.

  Maya Rayes. Damn, she’s been a pain in my ass for years. She’s hated my guts since we met. Turns out Maya had taken Catherine on a long weekend to Vegas and Catherine hadn’t called me because she was afraid I was going to freak out. When I found her back at her dorm room, I might have done just that.

  Once I figured out she was safe and had wanted to get away to relax and not be a “burden” on me—her words, not mine—we’d made good. It was way too freaking late to make Maya see me as anything but a villain though.

  That changed last night. I didn’t even do anything big. I saw her across the bar, saw that drunken asshole Richard treating her like shit, and reacted. I did the same thing I would have done if it had been one of my buddies’ little sisters getting hassled. I dragged Richard outside, sent him home in a cab, and came back in to check on her.

  She’s never looked at me like that. Like I’m a good person. Like maybe she’d want to spend some time with me. Her, a woman who makes men turn their heads when she walks into a room, sitting and talking to me. Buying me a drink. Flirting. Laughing. Dancing. Touching me.

  And that’s how you ended up in her bed, you idiot.

  I shove down the memories of last night and move on to mopping the last section of my side of the bay. My hands shake and my cheeks burn. If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up hitting the wooden pole of the mop against a different type of wood.

  What has she done to me?

  Throwing myself into work helps. There’s always something to do around the station. I’m more than willing to do more than my share today. I walked in looking like shit, with a hangover worse than any in recent memory, and the guys didn’t say anything. Instead, I got fried eggs, bacon, hash browns, and about a gallon of black coffee. Mopping the bays, washing the trucks ... whatever they want, they’ve got it.

  I may have lost some of my family, but I gained plenty of brothers when I got hired on here.

  “Jacobs!”

  I look up at Will’s bellow. He jerks his head toward the living room. “Cat’s on the phone. Said she couldn’t get you on your cell.”

  That’s because it died sometime between leaving Maya’s house and arriving here.

  “Be right there.” I finish up the last few feet of concrete and wash out my mop before abandoning Nelson. Cat’s humming to herself when I finally pick up the phone.

  “Hey.”

  “Guess what?” She’s excited. Not like that’s anything new for my little sis. She got my mom’s vibrancy and her off-the-charts energy.

  “What?”

  “Remember the presentation I submitted to that business conference like half a year ago?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I got an email today.”

  She hates when I tease her. “They turned you down, huh?”

  “No, you jerk.” I can’t help but smile as she tries to contain herself before delivering what I’m positive is good news. She doesn’t last long. “They accepted it! They want me to present there.”

  “That’s great news. When is it?”

  “A few weeks from now. Isn’t that awesome?”

  “I’m proud of you, Cat. You told anyone else yet?”

  “Dally. He was sitting right there when I got the email. I can’t get hold of Maya though.”

  My gut pitches.

  “She’s the one who convinced me to submit, so I’ve got to let her know.” She sighs. “I really wish you two got along better so we could all hang out more often. It’s been years since that stupid Vegas incident–”

  “How about we celebrate tomorrow morning?” I ask, cutting her off. No more Maya talk. “You choose the place.”

  She makes a happy squeal. “Perfect!”

  “Just tell me where to meet you.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you!”

  “Love you too.”

  None of the guys in the room crack a joke at my open admission to Cat. It’s not like I’d care if they did. When you lose someone unexpectedly, a few things snap into clarity. For me, telling my little sister I love her is one of those things. I didn’t get the chance to say it to Mom and Dad, but I won’t blow it with Cat.

  Speaking of which, I’ve got less than twenty-four hours to figure out how to handle this Maya thing in Cat’s presence ...

  The alarm goes off, ending that line of thought. Time to focus on the job at hand. Maya can wait.

  Chapter 2

  “Maya,” my therapist asks, “why are you pacing?”

  I turn again, wishing I was on stage where I could hear the click of my heels on the wood floor instead of silence on this plush carpet that sucks all sound from the room. I’m wringing my hands like freaking Lady Macbeth and there’s a strange, gnawing hole in the pit of my gut.

  “Maya?”

  I growl and force my hands to my sides. “How do I handle this?”

  Doctor Blathe, an older woman with a gentle face that reminds me of a modern day spoonful-of-sugar swilling nanny, looks up from her notepad. “What exactly do you mean by this?”

  “This ... thing with ...” I grit my teeth when Jake’s naked body invades my mind again. “You know ...”

  “I’m not sure I do,” she says calmly.

  “Him.”

  “Ah.” She jots down a note and flips back a page. “Jake?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can say his name, you know.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “Did you know you have only referred to Jake by name five times since our sessions began?”

  “Really?” I preen a little, proud I haven’t mentioned him more often.

  “Yet you’ve referred to him by other nicknames or generalizations ...” Her pen dances over the pages of notes from our session, the impeccable statistics she updates after every meeting, eventually halting. “More than fifty times in the past three sessions?”

  That takes the wind from my sails. I sink into the comfortable chair I’ve been avoiding. Years spent dealing with my father taught me that sitting in a chair for a discussion is a sign the excrement shall hitteth the fan.

  “That many times?” I ask meekly.

  Doctor Blathe gives me a moment to collect myself as she readjusts her glasses. When she makes eye contact again, I feel better. More prepared to have this conversation. Adult-ish.

  “Is there something about him you find yourself focusing on?”

  His fingers clasped around my wrists, pinning my arms over my head. His lips on my neck. Temple to temple, his hot breath against my neck, his low grunts in my ear as his hips piston, driving his cock into me—

  “No,” I protest, a little too sharply.

  Her head tilts. Her pen raises.

  “Yes,” I correct. “He’s hot.”

  She nods and the pen lowers. Inky bullet avoided. “Anything else?”

  I shift uncomfortably. The conversation really shouldn’t be going there. There’s no reason to pick apart my dislike of Jake at this moment.

  “What about his personality?”

  When I don’t speak, she presses. “Do you both get along?”

  Our conversation from this morning replays. We fought. We always fight.

  “You always fight with each other?”

  I refocus at her words, frustrated I had said it aloud. “We tend to get into heated discussions with each other.”

  She reads through my bullshit. “What do you mean by fight? Is it the same as the arguments between you and your father?”

  My stomach churns. “God, no. Jake’s not like that.”