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She scowled. “Do you want breakfast?” She spun around and pulled the refrigerator open with a huff. “And I’m not a pervert,” she told thefridge.
“I was teasing, Blaire,” Grant murmured. “You’re cute when you’reflustered.”
She didn’t say anything, and he began to regret teasing her. She was obviously uncomfortable with flirting. But if her flaming cheeks were anything to go by, she was definitelynotuninterested. He’d wondered since the night before if, when she blushed, she was pink all over. Grant groaned inwardly. He had felt her bare legs against him, her soft curves against him—maximum body heat. What he would give to experience that closeness again. Except it would end up with him balls-deep inside her. He’d climb over her, wrap her legs around him, shove her panties aside and slide his cock right into her tight heat. And there was his dick rising up to thechallenge.
“Grant, are you sure you’re okay?” Blaire asked, a frown creasing her forehead. “You look like you’re inpain.”
You have no idea,Angel.
“Are the phones still down?” he asked as he willed his wayward thoughts to go on a differenttrack.
She nodded. “You’re worried about yoursister?”
“The radio didn’t report her missing the same time they reported that I was. I think she’s fine,” he concluded from what Blaire and Liam told him the daybefore.
“You sound pissed at her,” Blaire observed, stirring the oatmeal into the pot ofwater.
He lowered himself to the chair and leaned back. Taking another sip of coffee, he contemplated where exactly his headspace was regarding his sister. “I’m caught in the middle of worry and anger. There’s still a chance that something happened to her. Also,” he sighed. “Not being able to get word to my parents that I’m fine isfrustrating.”
“I’m sorry,” shewhispered.
“Not your fault,” Grant said quickly. “You guys have gone above and beyond for a complete stranger.” And that was why he tolerated Liam’s hostility to a certainpoint.
“Why were you both out in thesnow?”
“Fight with her boyfriend,” he said, his blood starting to boil. “Val got so pissed, she took off on a snow mobile. Fucker didn’t go after her, so Idid.”
There was that look on Blaire’s face that tempted him to hug her. The closest word that came to mind was “compassion.” Her face was so expressive, her eyes—he couldn’t even decide what color they were. Dark rimmed around the edges with light brown and green … no, sometimes they were almost blue. The previous night when she stood before him in front of her paintings, she took his breath away. Blaire by firelight wasbreathtaking.
Grant cleared his throat. “Where’sLiam?”
“Haven’t seen him sincedinner.”
He wouldn’t put it past the older man to plow the snow himself if it meant getting rid ofGrant.
Blaire turned away from him to check on his oatmeal. Watching her crack the eggs into the porridge and stir it in, he thought about how these moments with her would be perfect if he didn’t worry about his parents, half-out of their minds, wondering if he were dead or alive. Suddenly impatient, he got up from the chair and limped to the window. Liam had indeed cleared the snow from the front of herhouse.
“Getting cabin fever?” she asked from behindhim.
Grant turned and noticed her sad smile. “Thinking of my parents and Val.” Did she sense that she was at the center of his conflicted emotions aswell?
“You’ll see them soon,” Blaire said softly. “Oatmeal isready.”
* * *
Ascraping noisejolted Grant awake. For a second, he wondered where he was until he saw the fireplace. After breakfast, which had been an excruciating exercise of shoveling the gruel into his mouth while not hurting Blaire’s feelings, they decided to play cards and board games. Lunch was leftover chicken and dumplings and then that was it for Grant. He hated getting sick. One minute he’d feel like he had recovered enough, and then his head and lungs would conspire to suck the life out of him. He ended up falling asleep on thecouch.
The door flew open, sending him jackknifing on the couch and instantly regretting it. He swallowed a curse at the pain shooting up his torso and glowered at Liam who stood at the entrance with a triumphant smirk on hisface.
Blaire rushed out from the hallway, this time in pink sheep-print flannel pajamas. For a moment, Grant forgot the other man and decided that he had become fond of sheep-printed sleepwear. But then the look on her face tweaked a muscle on hischest.
“Get dressed,” Liam ordered. “The plows just camethrough.”
“You?” Grant asked Blaire even as a sinkhole formed in hisgut.
She frowned. “What aboutme?”
“Are you comingtoo?”
