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W-H-O-O-P-S-A-D-A-I-S-Y
“I swear, I didn’t even know you were interested.” Trace Perry covered her mouth, her delighted shock brightening her naturally brilliant demeanor.
“Not even a little? Haley moved away. But you kept coming over to hang out, so I thought you were interested. Yeah, we were friends enough, but I wasn’t subtle.” Grady took a bite of his smoked salmon with gruyere over spring greens, smiling through full cheeks.
She set down the chunk of pretzel she’d been about to bite and shook her head. “No way. I was so pathetically lonely, I figured you thought I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Come on, you were hot. Still are.” He took a slow sip of his beer, a coffee stout, and Zane’s latest creation.
“Well, thank you.” A soft pink blush heated her cheeks, but her grin didn’t show a hint of bashful. Comfortable with her porcelain skin showing every emotion, Trace was the first to admit when she was embarrassed. “But seriously. You were this force of nature. Good at everything. Captain of the football team as a junior, balancing that with the competitive hockey league you did year-round. The rodeos, golf, swimming, debate. Dated the entire cheerleading team. A freckled, unathletic freshman that was absolutely not in the popular crowd? I thought you asked me to homecoming as a pity date.”
“So you went with Finn Halseth instead.”
Seconds later, Zoe Halseth appeared to refill their waters. “Hey Trace. Mom wanted me to pass along a thanks for the pastries you dropped by. I was so relieved she ate something.”
Grady mirrored the melty regret in Zoe’s eyes. “How is she doing?”
“Not good.” Zoe set down the water pitcher as her hand started to shake. “Evan and I are picking up the weight around here so Dad can go to her chemo infusions with her.”
Trace rested her hand on Zoe’s. “Please. Anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate.”
Zoe wiped away a bead of moisture from her eyelashes and nodded. “Absolutely.” She picked up the water and forced a smile. “Finn should be home to visit after the postseason is done. I’m sure he’ll look you up when he gets here.”
Blushing, Trace chugged her refilled water.
Zoe winced. “Grady. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you, too.”
Grady smiled as he took a slow sip of beer. Rub it in.
As Zoe backed away, she said, “Oh, I heard Ryder is in town. Say ‘Hi’ for me?”
His eyebrows quirked together. “Sure thing.” Interesting.
Trace set down her empty water glass and sighed, biting her smile as Zoe disappeared. “That adds a measure of awkward.”
“Well, you chose Finn over me once before.” He flashed her a wink and leaned back in his chair.
“It is good to see you, Grady. I wasn’t sure this was a setup until Patricia told me how busy you’ve been at work as the successful attorney who is going to be mayor in a few years.”
His turn to wince. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Mayor? Oh, she is a wonder.”
“She’s a proud mama.”
“Mama is far too maternal of a word for Patricia.”
“Fair point. But she thinks the world of you.” Trace nudged his foot as a foggy pall threatened to wash over him. “Grady, I’ve always thought the world of you, too.” She caught his attempt to argue and powered on, “but Finn was it for me back then.”
“He was a lonely puppy with no friends, and you were a softie. But as he turned out to be a good friend of mine, too, no hard feelings.”
“Why did you ask me out? Today, I mean. Aside from Patricia working on this since I got home.” She ripped off a bite of pretzel and dunked in cheese soup. “I’m glad you did, but...”
He picked up his beer and set it back down, knowing she was right without even hearing the end of her trailed-off thought. “I haven’t been out much since I finished law school and, shit, I needed an excuse to get out of the house. An evening with Trace? As a date or as friends, it sounded like a good distraction.”
“No way. You always have one in your sights. You’re telling me you didn’t have a single woman on your radar until your mother insisted you call me?”
“Not a single one.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, hoping she didn’t catch how he drew out the word single.
She chewed another morsel of cheesy pretzel and considered, grinning as her eyes laid on his ticking jaw. “There’s more to this story. Spill.”
“Spill? I’m not Haley. Not out to be spilling any feelings, here.” His tone was harsh, but he couldn’t help but grin. Yeah, probably a good thing neither seemed to be making any moves toward hooking up tonight. Hot as she was, the idea of kissing her? Like a sister or something.
“Hmm. Patricia told me Ryder is in town with his adorable fiancée, the veterinarian that is a little quirky, but very down-to-earth, and she thinks we’ll get along great.”
“You two would get along great. Claire and Ryder are out to dinner at the Italian place. This is her meet-the-future-in-laws trip. Patricia is thrilled to get to announce their engagement at her annual gala.”
“You said Claire and Ryder. Not Ryder and Claire.”
“Shit, Trace. You’re a bloodhound.” He leaned back in his chair and shook his head, chuckling under his breath.
“You fell for your future sister-in-law.”
Stiffening, checking that no one was listening in, Grady shushed her. “Have not.”
“No? Tell me about her and your entirely platonic feelings for each other.”
Grady gulped the last of his beer and stared at the receding foam pooling at the bottom. “No.”
“Is she nice?”
“Yeah.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Yes. As are you.”
“What was she wearing when she left for dinner?”
“Trace,” he warned.
She raised an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth quirked up like she’d been caught by a sneaky fisherman, as Haley’s always was when she knew she was right.
“Fine. A black cable-knit sweaterdress with boots that go over her knees.”
“Tights or no?”
“None. And yes, her legs are long and toned and shapely and... I’m in such deep shit.”
“Wow, you’ve got it bad.”
He lowered his elbows to the table and rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I am aware. Can you see why I called you?”
“You were hoping lightning would strike and release you from the spell?”
“Yeah.”
“Grady?”
“Yeah?”
“Does she feel the same?”
He flashed back to the near-kiss in the stables. Then when that guy at Black Op crashed in front of her; she’d leaned into him, her pulse racing as fast as his, and not because of the near-miss. Her hand on his thigh last night at Ahab’s to comfort him. “I don’t know. If she does, and doesn’t end things with Ryder?”
Mouth as parched as the Sonoran Desert thanks to the dry red wine that Ryder had insisted would complement her mushroom ravioli, Claire gulped her water as she glanced around the lovely restaurant. Dim lighting, tables spaced far enough apart for romantic privacy, decent acoustics. Ryder’s uninterrupted attention. It was time. Past time.
“I heard a rumor that we were engaged.” Her lip throbbed from where she’d worked it all afternoon, worrying about how to start this dreaded conversation. Her knee vibrated at rapid speed, restless as she’d hid in their suite all day to avoid running into anyone. One more spark with Grady and she would probably ignite.
Ryder winced, his brow heavy with guilt. “About that. Patricia was nagging me about how I’m too old to be still playing the field, and why can’t I settle down like my perfect little sister. Preferably that I get moving now, so she can announce it at the gala. And, well, I panicked and told her we were already engaged. I’m so sorry, I forgot to mention it.”
After meeting Patricia, she could absolutely understand where that little fib came from. “You could have at least warned me.” Break-ups sucked. Especially when he’d inevitably ask for a reason, and she really didn’t want to tell him the full details. At least, not the reason for her poor timing.
“I figured Grady would be grateful I took some of the pressure off him. Patricia was beaming when we left, as he’s out with Trace. She’s an old friend and gorgeous redhead. Perfect for him.”
Desperate for a distraction, Claire gulped down her desiccant-infused wine. As the last of the moisture in her mouth sapped away, she picked up her water glass and pouted when she discovered she’d already finished it off. This was going great. Like the skating rink. Too late. A sign. Sure, what sort of sign is this vague? Stop fantasizing about your fiancé’s brother and go with the safe, no-brainer relationship in front of you?
When the server appeared with their dinners, Ryder waited for her to take the first bite, then eased back into conversation. “Grady had the hots for her in high school, but, as usual, he hesitated and she hooked up with another guy.”
“How long have they been seeing each other?”
“I have no idea. Grady and I don’t exactly sit and talk about relationships. But it’s Grady, he’s always got someone on the line.”
“Player, huh?” She chewed the mushroom ravioli until it degraded to a nauseating paste. Not daring to swallow, she kept chewing for fear she might choke on it.
“Makes me—before I met you—look like a saint. Seriously. Name a single woman in town, and he’s either slept with her or tried.”
“Oh.” Pressure welled behind her eyes. Was she getting Grave’s disease? Blinking, she tried to equalize before scheduling the thyroidectomy.
And she folded. Cat got her tongue. Ryder wasn’t so bad. At least she knew him.
Why had she let herself get so worked up about a guy she didn’t even know? One that, from the sounds of things, was adept at flashing a few winks and dampening some panties.
Holy shit, Claire, get a grip. Nerve lost, appetite toast, Claire couldn’t work up the courage to dump him tonight.
When they got back to the blue suite that night, they crawled quietly into bed. Ryder leaned in and kissed her goodnight. Lips soft against hers, he moved in to take it further.
Pulling away, still suffering from the world’s worst cases of cottonmouth and ocular pressure, Claire closed her eyes and forced a smile. “I’ve got a migraine.”
Confused, or so it felt from the stiff rollover, Ryder shut off the lamp. Voice crackling as he spoke under the brightening glow of the moon, he said, “Claire?”
“Yeah?”
After a long inhale, staring up at the ceiling on the opposite side of the bed, Ryder finally spoke. “I’m sorry things don’t seem to be getting any easier. Let’s just get through this trip and take some time when we get home. Now’s not the time to be making any big decisions.”
Hair tangling against the pillow as she nodded, Claire murmured, “You’re right. I can’t think straight right now.”
Hours later, eyes still wide open, Claire stared up at the ceiling. Ryder snored softly beside her, peacefully in dreamland. Midnight. One. Two.
Regret was a terrible sleep-depriver. She should have just ended it at dinner. Grady or no Grady in her future, known evil or not, Ryder wasn’t the one for her. When did she turn into such a fraidy cat?
Okay. That’s enough. Her stomach was growling anyway, having hardly touched her dinner.
Claire slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. A sharp hunk of icy metal jabbed into her foot. She grabbed her foot and hopped as she silenced her yelp. What the hell was that? Claire bent down and found Ryder’s belt on the floor. As he never left stuff on the floor, she knew he was as messed up as she was right now.
Despite her limp, she made it out of the bedroom, unscathed through the final stretch, and closed the door behind her. Looking down, she realized she wore nothing but tiny shorts and a paper-thin, spaghetti strap camisole, her nipples standing at attention in the cool air.
Nope, that would be downright slutty. If Bill or Patricia came down for a midnight snack? She shivered at the thought.
She didn’t dare risk waking Ryder, so she grabbed the chunky cardigan that she’d left on the arm of the couch and slipped it on. It covered enough so she would be safe if anyone walked in. Slutty, but waking Ryder was riskier.
The tile kitchen floor was freezing, and her toes immediately curled inward. Claire shuffled quickly toward the kitchen to grab her snack so she could escape back upstairs.
As she rounded the corner, she lurched, flooding with panic and lust and thrill and stupidity and... Dammit. Sexy-as-holy-fucking-hell. Like her waking dreams of him suddenly materialized in the kitchen, along details that she would never have had the creativity to conjure. Her jaw lost all strength and her eyes hazed with unbridled appreciation like when Captain Kirk laid eyes on a scantily dressed alien with big boobs.
Grady gulped from a crystal-clear glass of water, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the guzzle. The angle of his arm was... superb. As if he were posing to give her the absolute best view of how his deltoid and bicep and tricep all came together like a Platonian model. Not to mention those abs—sans shirt. Washboard, she believed, was the term. And those carefree jeans slung low on his hips, top button undone. Puh-hoo.
Gasping as he downed the last of his drink, he turned to see her standing and gawking. The corner of his mouth quirked up, a satisfied grin like she was exactly what he had ordered. “Hi,” he said.
Shivers ran straight up her spine. When did “Hi,” become the single most seductive word in the English language? Why again, had she lost her nerve and not ended things with Ryder? Player or not, she could at least have a quick rebound before going home...
“Hi,” she answered, hoping she didn’t look like the eager horn-dog she had become. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep.”
His grin widened. “You couldn’t seem to stay awake at Ahab’s. Sleep too much last night so you can’t sleep tonight?”
“Thanks again for taking me home last night. Or, well...” She glanced at the time. “Two nights ago, I suppose. I know you probably wanted to stay and hang out with your friends more.”
“I see them all the time. All good.”
“I like them.”
“They’re the best.” He put his glass in the dishwasher and rested his hands on his hips. Not helpful. The pose was downright... damn, that man was appealing. “Hungry? I think there’s some leftover pizza.”
“Patricia and Bill ordered pizza?”
He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a lidded Pyrex. “Oh no. But the chef makes exceptional pizza.”
Claire unlocked her frozen toes and moved close enough to check out the cold pizza, but maintained a maximum amount of distance between them so she didn’t inadvertently jump him. Whole wheat thin crust, a variety of cheeses, tomato, jalapeno, green chiles. “Looks amazing. Hot or cold?” She grinned, baiting him to give the right answer.
“Trust me?” he asked, raising a devious eyebrow.
“Maybe.”
He grabbed a plate and loaded it up with a pair of slices and hit the thirty-second button on the microwave, turned the oven to broil, then transferred the nuked pizza to crispen.
“Fancy.”
“Every experienced bachelor knows how to reheat pizza. Since flying this coop, I usually live alone. When I don’t have friends thinking my spare bedroom is an invitation for a roommate.”
And she was reminded of exactly why she hadn’t broken things off with Ryder yet. An experienced bachelor, even by his own admission.
“Lucky. I’ve never lived alone.”
“Really?”
“I could never afford my own place.”
“And that’s why you and Ryder moved in together so quickly.”
“Precisely.”
Grady skillfully slid the slices out of the oven, onto the plate, and set them up at the island.
Stomach rumbling at the savory scent, Claire hopped on the stool next to him and sank her teeth into the crispy-melty goodness. As she filled her hollow belly, her leg relaxed against Grady’s. The heat was toastier than the fresh-broiled cheese, but she needed it. Craved the connection. Thrived on the geomagnetic activity stirring between them, resonating deep to the mitochondrial level.
Dammit. She stiffened and pulled her leg away. She was not about to be the player Ryder had accused Grady of being. Six-letter fancy term for slut. W-A-N-T-O-N.
As he swallowed another bite, Grady wiped the corner of his mouth on a napkin and asked, “You didn’t do much better at the stupid I Never game than I did.” They’d kept things pretty PG, but she suspected there was nothing PG about Grady’s sex life.
“I suppose I’m not very adventurous.”
“I know that’s not true.”
“Really. I’m ridiculously ordinary. I don’t break rules, I don’t try dangerous things.”
“You went ice skating alone, without ever having even seen ice, just for fun.”
“That was different.”
“Yeah? The next day, you rode trail into thick fog with a strange man that hasn’t been subtle at the fact that he is attracted to you, even knowing that you’re spoken for.”
She pulled her lip into her teeth, not having a clue what to say. Wasn’t he seeing someone? If not, would he think less of her if she sprinted up the stairs, woke up Ryder to dump him, then ran back downstairs and tore all her clothes off?
Appetite rapidly diminishing, she set down her pizza and adjusted her posture. “How was your dinner? Ryder said you’ve known Trace for a long time?”
His eyes brushed over her, his demeanor darkening, and he set down his pizza crust and slid the plate away. “For as long as I can remember.”
“I’d love to meet her. Ryder thinks she’s great.” Dreading hearing him say more, Claire carried the plate to the sink, dumping their crusts into the trash. She rinsed and placed it in the dishwasher.
When she turned around, she reveled in his hungry ogle, wishing the forlorn weren’t laced in there. Yeah, she probably should have worn more than the sweater. A few wrong angles, or right, depending on your perspective, and he’d get a hell of a show.
Knowing he was watching, that he had the player reputation, already confessing his attraction to her, while they were both seeing other people... well, she would hate herself for it later, but she needed to know, before saying I do or I don’t. Or, yes or no-thank-you, as Ryder had yet to actually propose. She reached up into the cupboard, her sweater sliding up and flashing him a view of her tiny shorts, leaving no doubt that the lower curve of her butt was visible. Not looking back this time, needing that sliver of hope, she filled the glass and downed it, thirstier than ever.
Coming up for air, she glanced back at him, enjoying his jaw-dropped heated look.
“What?” he asked.
What had she asked him? Oh yeah. That. “How long have you been seeing Trace?”
“We’re not seeing each other. We went out tonight, and I was hoping something would click, as I really don’t enjoy lusting after my brother’s fiancée, but Trace will always be my sister’s friend.” Blinking, he shook his head and took a deep breath, then stalked to the liquor cabinet. Even the man’s walk was a nice sight. Hips steady, shoulders back, he maintained a casual elegance that was darkened by a tempered edge. “Whiskey?”
Unable to resist, Claire slid back onto the stool, her pulse pinging under her skin, wanting him to ask her again with that sultry tone. And again. And again. “Please.”
Hands steady, he poured a double for each of them and slid her drink onto the granite, the glass gliding over the stone, the amber liquid oscillating in rhythm.
She picked up her glass and asked, “To what are we toasting?”
Without shifting the stool further away, as he should, he sat next to her. His knee leaned against hers and swiftly jerked back. “Terrible relationships.” He raised his glass in salute.
The phrase rattled through her skull. With a knowing nod, she clinked her glass against his and downed the whiskey in one long, burning gulp that seared her throat.
Eyes wide, he watched as she licked the final drip from her lower lip. Gaze not straying from her mouth, he downed his glass.
Breathless, she let the warm-and-fuzzy loosen her stiff shoulders. And her haywire brain. “If we I-Nevered bad luck at relationships, I would absolutely win.”
“Not a chance. I am the reigning champ at that one.”
The corners of her lips twitching as she turned the never into a dare, she nodded. “Prove it.”
“Where do I start?” He rose from the island and grabbed the whiskey, then poured another shot for each of them.
“From the beginning.”
“Jenny Mitchell. Kindergarten. I held my hand out to reassure her when the school nurse was delivering measles shots. She screamed. Not from the shot, but at the idea of holding hands with me.”
“Ouch. That is terrible. Barry Minor. Eighth grade. Kissed me at the bus stop, then bragged to all his friends when we got to school that we’d had sex. I spent the next three and a half years trying to convince everyone that I was a virgin.”
“Prick. I’m sorry. Three and a half years?” He didn’t budge when she leaned into him. Instead, proving just how unlucky she was, he didn’t move away and instead fused the connection.
“Backseat of Justin Malkovich’s mother’s sedan. It was as terrible and uncomfortable as it sounded. And he also bragged to the entire school. I gave up arguing. I made the unofficial school yearbook awards as Most Promiscuous. For one guy, once.”
“Shit. How many guys have you been with?”
“Three. Come on, I’m winning here.” She hiccupped the last word.
He nudged her. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m a lightweight.” A giggle erupted from deep in her throat.
He bopped her nose delicately with the knuckle of his pointer finger. “I might be too.”
“Come on, you’re up. Terrible relationships.”
“On my first trip home from law school, I, uh... I walked in on my girlfriend, with, um...”
“Who?”
“Doesn’t matter. She seemed set on proving her point. And it worked.”
“Didn’t want to wait for you, huh?”
“Nope. Fast-forward a few more terrible relationships, and I met Sophie.”
“Sophie from Ahab’s?”
“The very one. Anyway, Lincoln had totally talked her up, saying she was the one for me. Pippa was even worse. And we did hit it off right away. I wouldn’t say sparks, but a light simmer. Then... she met Asher, and I found out she wasn’t interested in me after all when I walked in right after they’d enjoyed a little dressing room action. I hadn’t even realized they were into each other.”
“Ouch.”
His body tensed, firm and blazing against her skin. He leaned forward and gripped his hand in his hair. “Worst one yet. I met this incredible woman. She’s got a laugh that makes everything more colorful. Is charming as hell, but she doesn’t seem to realize it. Brilliant. Her brain is always ticking with weird facts and has this quirky sense of humor that she rarely shares, and I wish she’d say it out loud.”
This punchline wouldn’t be what she was hoping for. Couldn’t be. For either of them.
He continued, “Best date of my life, and I went to ask her out, only to find out she’s taken. Worst of all, in this house that I hate, there she is, engaged to my brother, who absolutely doesn’t deserve her.”
His ocean blues locked onto hers, heavy and swimming, and she was drowning. Both glossy-eyed, from the liquor or the moment, she wasn’t sure. Chest rising and falling with mountainous effort like she was wearing too many lead drapes to protect her from destructive x-ray radiation, Claire let her gaze lower to those irresistible lips.
Testing, hesitant, he leaned closer. Breath shared, soft, spiced, his lips were so close she could already feel the zap. She closed that last sliver of distance and broke that last line. Just once.
As she’d hypothesized, lightning struck.
Molten lava coursed through her veins. Her brain went all wonky as electrical connections busted and rebuilt again. Warm, pliant, he took it further, kissing, again.
Breathless, the world crumbling around them, she dug her fingers into his hair and wrapped around him. Deepening the kiss, he slid his tongue over hers, tasting, exploring, his hand cradling her jaw as he soared with her to a distant fairytale land.
A soft whimper passed her lips as the rest of her body pleaded to be included.
The south stairs creaked. A grumbling yawn preceded the intruder.
Claire leaped off the stool and booked it out of there.
Stealing one last glance, she found Grady sitting alone, rumpled and astonished.
