AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His eyes snap to mine and it takes him a second to process that. Maybe he was thinking about kisses and questions, too. “What do you want to know? I can tell you way too much about it.”
I sink deeper into the water until my chin dips beneath the surface. The delicious heat has chased away the last of thelingering chill from the river. “Is it a fighting game? A quest game? One of those where you create characters and pretend to be a wizard?”
I’ve never played anything like that, but I’m at least aware enough to have some concept. An extremely vague concept, but it counts. I mostly play games on my phone where I move a jewel to make rows of three shapes or colors. Easy to learn, easy to get addicted.
“Yes to all. Except I usually play as a paladin.”
“What’s that?”
He shrugs. “They do a few things, but usually I’m the strongest one you send in first. The one who stands on the front lines and takes hits to protect the rest of the team.”
“That makes sense for you.” I like imagining him as some kind of pixelated protector taking out bad guys to keep his group safe. Just like he kept me safe on the trail. Looking out for other people comes naturally to him. Maybe it’s the big brother in him.
“Don’t read too much into it.”
“Oh, it’s already done. You like being the one who charges in and puts himself in harm’s way before trouble can reach your team. You’re the dependable one everyone else relies on.”
I suspect he’s the same with his family and his job. Responsibility and protectiveness run deep.
“It’s just a game.” His little mouth twitch confirms more than he probably realizes. That’s his modesty shining through—which completely proves my point.
I extend my legs to poke his knees with my toes. “A game you’ve poured a ton of time into. One might say your personality has seeped into the character you play.”
“One might say.” He grabs my feet and pulls them into his lap. My legs are just long enough to reach without having to stretch through the water too obviously. His hands clasp mysoles, his thumbs gently rubbing into the arches. “Sometimes I play the rogue, too.”
Ooh, yeah, he does. Who isn’t into a good guy with a spicy streak? “Are those the ones who give the tastiest bits of their snacks to hapless wanderers, and share their tents with shivering women whenever needed?”
Wait. No. I should not be thinking about sharing the tent right now. Definitely should not speak of it. Sharing a hot tub is difficult enough without pouring gasoline over all of these flames. Plus, the foot rub is not optimal for maintaining non-flammable thoughts.
Between that and the mischief shining in his eyes, my insides are nothing but mush. I grip the molded plastic edge of my seat, ready to push myself firmly back onto my own side…or launch myself straight into his arms. I haven’t decided which.
“That’s the paladin,” he says, delicately massaging each of my toes. “The rogue would pickpocket you.”
“I’m safe. I don’t have any doubloons.”
“Coppers.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I haven’t had a foot massage in ages, and I’m already a little loopy from this double-barreled version. “I feel like a rogue would steal a kiss.”
Is that a hint or a cry for help? I have no idea.
“He would go after the most valuable thing you have.”
Grant’s hands on my feet don’t stop moving, but I freeze. The warm water laps at me and I sway like a buoy as his response screams through my head in flashing red neon. I don’t want to misinterpret him, but I have literally so many ways to take that, and all of them feel wrong.
“I might have a penny in my pocket after all.” My attempt at a joke sounds flat and sad, even with the breezy smile I stick on.
He squeezes my feet and releases them. My balance shifts,and I slowly tilt toward him, almost meeting in the middle of the hot tub.
His rakish grin starts my stomach on a mini rollercoaster ride. “The rogue would want to win your heart, princess.”
I’m not even a little bit shocked that Grant’s a good cook. A guy doesn’t have this many layers of responsibility baked into his personality and wind up useless in the kitchen. He lets me help in small ways, but mostly, I watch him work.
“You’re good with a knife,” I say as he chops up parsley for garnish. “But I knew that already from watching you whittle.”
He grins over the cutting board. “I’m trying to impress you with my strongest skills.”
Such a liar. If that were true, he would go in for a repeat of that parking lot kiss we’re not discussing.
