Page 70 of Fire in You

“First off, this couldn’t have waited to, oh, I don’t know, any other time? And secondly, why are you having Thanksgiving at my parents’ house? You haven’t done that in years.”

“To answer your first point, it was on my mind right now to discuss,” he replied smoothly. “And why am I having dinner at your parents’ house this year? This year is different, but we’ll talk more about this later.”

I opened my mouth.

“I’ll let you get back to your oh-so excitingnicedate.” He slipped out of the booth; his gaze drifted over me. “I really wish I could see the rest of you in this dress, because what I see so far is fucking amazing. You look beautiful.”

My mouth continued to hang open.

“Have aniceevening.”

Winking, Brock sauntered down the aisle, passing Grady on the way out. They stopped, exchanged a few words I probably didn’t want to know about, and then Grady was walking toward the table.

He sat down with an odd little laugh. “Well, all that was . . . unexpected.”

All I could do was shake my head helplessly. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what he was doing.”

“I think . . . he was checking up on you.” Grady rubbed a hand over his chest. “He was checking up onus.”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have anything to say, because Brock had never done anything like that before. Ever. Not even on the rare times I had dates when we were young and I’d tell him about them, obviously hoping he’d get jealous and realize he wanted me before someone else had me. Then he didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“How did he know we were here?” he asked.

“Coincidence?” I repeated dumbly.

“You sure about that? Because he just left without picking up any food.”

Oh my God, hehadn’t. “I might’ve mentioned we were going here, but he’s just—I mean, he’s really . . .” I swallowed hard, struggling to explain what had just happened that didn’t involve me spewing curses everywhere. “He’s overprotective.”

Grady nodded slowly. “Can I ask you something?”

Please, no.“Sure.”

“Have you two ever been involved with one another?”

“What?” I forced out a laugh. “No. We haven’t.” And was that really a lie, because I wasn’t counting what happened last Friday, and me being in love with him for like ten years or so didn’t count.

He looked over his shoulder and then back to me. “Maybe he’s into you.”

I laughed again, but this time it wasn’t forced, because that was just unprecedented ridiculousness.

But was it?

I thought about him wanting to come in that night for a drink. Then all those lattes and the lunches, and he told me I wasbeautiful, and he wanted to drive me home for Thanksgiving, and I . . .

And then therewaswhat happened between us that Friday night. I didn’t want to think about it, had managed to stop myself all week whenever my thoughts drifted there, but ithadhappened. Brock hadn’t wanted to pretend like it hadn’t happened. He’d said he hadn’t regret those brief heated and dark moments. Could he—?

My heart started pounding fast, too fast, and I felt dizzy at the mere idea that someone else thought he could be interested. I was so used to everyone telling me he wasn’t.

Grady finished off his wine.

The conversation kind of, well, sucked from that point. It was idle and mindless, and when the check came, he paid for it with a quickness a ninja would be proud of.

Grady walked me to my car, which was parked around the corner, behind a bank. He didn’t hold my hand, but he hugged me goodnight. Not a full body, chest to chest hug that made me feel shivery and wanting. Definitely nowhere near a kiss.

“I’ll call you,” he said, stepping back.

I nodded. “I . . . I had a good time.”