AllFreeNovel
Share Us
TWENTY-ONE
LILA
Grant is so irresistiblycute when he’s gloating. I never thought those words could fit together, but I never met anyone like Grant before. He’s not even gloating about himself, it’s about me. He’s just so pleased I had a good time on the river—like my happiness is a prize, and he’s standing on the winner’s block.
I admit, I had a lot of fun out there, despite getting too close to yet another bird of prey. The little rapids we paddled over were exhilarating, but I never felt anything other than safe. Although, I’m pretty sure most of that was because I had Grant right beside me.
The only thing that could possibly mar the memory is the “I pee in rivers” hat my mountain man wore the whole time. I will just block that part out when I reminisce.
Also? It’s a good thing I wore a bathing suit beneath my clothes. Anything still dry after the rapids wound up drenched during the water fight. On one calm stretch of river, the four boats in our group faced off. Apparently, there’s an art to splashing someone with a paddle, and the people on the other teams had crazy talent. Grant and I changed into dry clotheswhen we got back to the rafting offices, but I can’t shake the chill.
“Can we turn on the heat?” We’re probably halfway back to town, and it’s pushing eighty-five out, but I’m shivering in his roomy SUV.
Grant’s gaze drifts over me. “Are you cold? Here.” He stretches his right arm behind him to grab something off the back seat and lays it over me. Then, he turns on the heater and directs the dash vents my way.
I worm into the gray hoodie he gave me and slide the zipper straight to the top. It’s soft and cozy like he’s worn it for years, and his minty-herbal scent wraps around me as if I’m cuddled in his arms. Why are men’s hoodies so much better than women’s? I’d like to trade my drafty apartment for this hoodie and live in it forever, please and thank you.
“That’s the good stuff,” I say, snuggling deeper into the fleece.
His gaze hits me again. “No arguments here.”
How does he manage to go from cute to smoldering in point-five seconds? I look like I spent the day battling Poseidon, and he still makes me feel like the most gorgeous woman in the room. Car. Wherever. It’s one of his many irresistible qualities, and warms me up even better than his hoodie that I’m already plotting to steal.
“Would this be an acceptable time to take you up on your offer to share your hot tub?” Not that I’ve been longing for a dip since I first saw it or anything.
“With you shivering like that? You’d better.”
“Ooh, it’s almost five. Will you stop at the lodge so I can get a hot cocoa first?”
“Of course. Will you stay for dinner? I was just going to make pasta and an Alfredo sauce, but I have plenty.”
I grin at him as I slowly pull his hood up over my head. “That’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too.”
When we finally roll into the lobby, I’m delighted to discover that one of the urns for the cocoa packets is full of warm milk instead of water. The cocoa cart is loaded up with a variety of high-end mixes to choose from, a caramel syrup dispenser, and sturdy glass canisters holding marshmallows, sprinkles, wafer cookies, and toffee bits.
The cart next to it holds glass carafes full of a fuchsia-bright drink and short stacks of cocktail glasses. The carafes are labeledMadras, with a little canister of lime slices next to them. Looks yummy, but I’m not in the mood for an alcoholic drink tonight.
I’ve made enough sketchy choices lately. No need to add tipsiness into the mix.
Grant stands right next to me, his arm against mine, while I carefully pour ingredients into my paper cup like a mad scientist working out a new concoction. A couple of hotel guests sit in the lobby chatting over their drinks, but with no one in line behind me, I have time to indulge in all the goodies. I love me some hot cocoa.
“My teeth hurt just watching you make that,” he says in a low voice.
I glare up at him. “You don’t have a sweet tooth, do you?”
The snacks he brought on the hike should be answer enough.Sugar? What’s that?He didn’t really like the boba tea, either, although that might have had more to do with thinking the tapioca pearls looked like fish eggs.
Ever so slowly, he raises one hand and lightly trails his knuckles along my jawline. “I like some sweet things.”
This must be how people spontaneously combust. Grant Irwin says something sexy and barely touches them and—poof!Inferno from the inside out. Can he see the flames in my eyes? Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?
I’m trying to come up with a flirty response when I hear Josh’s laughter behind me. Those delicious flames wink out, replaced with shards of ice. Did Grant see him first? Is that why he went full seduction just now? I’m not sure I want to know.
We turn to face him. He’s in chinos and a white dress shirt, hair immaculate, shoes shiny. Probably just waltzed in from trying to buy that company in Bend out from under the owners for less than it’s worth. His wide smile tempts me to see what his crisp shirt would look like covered in hot chocolate stains.
I resist, only because someone would have to mop up the floor afterward. Revenge sounds sweet, but not at my friend Charlie’s expense.
