Made in America by Jamie Deschain Page A

he’s been keeping in his hand. “Now what’s this about Huffy being weird?”
    I take a swig of my drink, swallowing the liquid courage. “I don’t know. I went home the other day and tried to do a Google search on him. You know, like a big one.”
    “You do have some strong Google-Fu,” Frankie nods.
    “Right? But that’s the thing, I couldn’t find out anything about him pre-billionaire status. Nothing about where he grew up, who his family is. Normally that stuff is front and center on a Wikipedia page, or at least in a passing interview somewhere, but this time? Nothing. It’s like Grant had his entire history scrubbed from the Internet. The only thing even remotely curious that I could find was a reference to JHBM, whatever that means. I tried Googling it, but all I found were references to some building and maintenance company in the UK.”
    Tito screws up his face, just as confused as I was when I went digging for information on Grant’s past. Maybe it’s wrong of me to pry, but the Internet is fair game. If it’s on there, anyone can know anything about you. Doesn’t make it necessarily right, but because I couldn’t find anything on Grant Huffman, it’s got me even more curious about the man I’ve been mindlessly flirting with this past week.
    What is he hiding?
    “Maybe you should just ask him,” Frankie says.
    “But then he’ll know I’ve been digging.”
    “So?” Tito shrugs. “What did he expect?”
    “I know, but with Grant it’s different. He’s very…particular. He could take it one way, or take it another. You never know with him. I just don’t want him to get the wrong impression.”
    “And what impression would that be?”
    “I don’t know. That I’m into him?”
    “But you are into him,” Frankie nods. “Aren’t you?”
    I sigh, and take a long, hard pull on the bottle of alcohol. “I don’t know what I am. I mean, he’s definitely hot, and we’ve been going at it back and forth all week, I just don’t know if he’s—”
    A thunderous noise coming from outside interrupts my thoughts, and everyone in the party room falls silent, giving way to an idle rumbling that sends me, Tito, and Frankie over to the window that looks out onto the sidewalk.
    It’s a motorcycle, and when the rider takes off his helmet, a collective gasp goes through the three of us.
    “Oh,” Tito whispers.
    “My,” Frankie says.
    “Gosh,” I heave.
    It’s Grant, dressed in a black leather jacket, a button up checkered casual shirt, and a pair of blue jeans that hug his ass like a set of hands giving it a nice squeeze.
    My body reacts to the sight of him, and I take a step back as he meets my gaze through the window. He flashes a knowing smile that soaks my panties ten ways from Sunday, making me forget about everything I was just talking about.
    In this moment, I don’t care who he is, where he’s from, or what he’s hiding.
    All I care about is how much trouble I’m in, because with him looking the way he does, it’s going to be hard to keep my hands off him tonight.
    “Rave,” Tito says.
    I gulp, and look at him when he turns to me. “Yeah?” my voice quivers.
    “You gotta fuck this guy.”
     
     

- 11 -
     
    Grant
     
     
    Stepping in to Drake’s, I feel every eye in the room on me. I’m used to that, but the only eyes I care about belong to the British beauty standing near the window.
    I walk over to Raven, who meets me halfway. Her voluptuous body teases me with every step, and when we finally connect, she looks me up and down with a gaze that betrays what her body is feeling, even if her heart isn’t up to the task yet.
    “You clean up nice,” she smiles.
    “So do you,” I purr.
    It occurs to me this is the first time I’ve ever seen her in street clothes. The first time she was wearing her Drake’s uniform, and after that she’s been in business attire around the office. Seeing her in those tight jeans and a halter top that shows off her ample tits makes my