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I’m kind of stunned by his confession. “Why anxious?”
He exhales loudly. “I thought I’d have the house to myself and you were right––I was pissed about my injury. I don’t know if I can ever play again. For the first time in my life I don’t know what the future looks like––”
“And it’s scary,” I finish for him. A beat later I feel him nod. “I understand…so you’re trying to make up for being the houseguest from hell?”
“No.” He chuckles and the vibration tickles my cheek. “I like being around you. I like everything about you…everything. This is the best summer I’ve ever had,” he says so softly it’s barely above a whisper. “You’re the best time I’ve ever had.”
He clears his throat.
That can’t be true? Can it? Do I feel the same way? Is this the best time I’ve ever had? Searching my memory bank I can say with the exception of being responsible for my son’s near-drowning the answer is yes. Unequivocally, yes.
I press even closer, as close as I can possibly get and he squeezes me back.
“Thank you,” I say and place a closed-mouth kiss on the side of his neck. Grant shivers and hums.
“For what?”
“For being a great friend. For being you.”
There are morning people. And then there are the rest of us. Whether I’ve had four hours of sleep or twelve, I always look like a prizefighter who’s lost a grudge match when I wake up. Swollen-faced. More beast than beauty. That’s on a regular-shmegular morning, let alone if I’ve been crying a river.
I hear the toilet flush, then the sink run in my bathroom. My bleary eyes crack open to see Grant walk out wearing only his boxers and a smile. I instantly forget to feel embarrassed about my prizefighter face. His body really is a work of art. It gets juices flowing that haven’t flowed in years. There, I said it.
I squint. “Were you…were you naked when you walked in here last night?”
“I’m not naked. I’m wearing underwear. And I had a t-shirt on––” Right, I remember now. “––but you drooled all over it while you slept on me so I took it off.”
Awesome. That’s just awesome. I pat my rat’s nest of hair. “What time is it?”
What I really want to say, however, is, can we pretend last night never happened? That I didn’t end up falling asleep curled around you. That I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night and tuck myself under your arm, closer to your warm body as if you were my personal thunder blanket. Or how about, can we pretend I didn’t feel the steel pole between your legs press against my ass earlier this morning and I didn’t press back. Can we pretend that never happened?
“Six thirty,” he answers with a smirk. “I’ll make coffee.”
“Bless you,” I shout as he walks out the door. He makes coffee and gives hugs to little boys whose mothers almost let them drown. It’s official, he really is a knight.
Chapter Nineteen
“You’re pining,” Dev claims.
“I’m not pining. I’m fine. I had a life before Grant showed up. I’m getting back to it.”
Food. Work. Laundry. Repeat.
Dev comes out of warrior pose and plants her hands on her slim waist. “Did you…say you had a life before Grant? Because that’s funny.” She gives me a fake smile. “Like sad funny. That you would actually say that out loud.”
With Sam staying at Ronan’s for the weekend and Grant in L.A. for the ESPYs, I’m spending all my time at the studio.
Chuckling, I throw my towel at her. “I’m getting really caught up on my cleaning,” I weakly argue. “Look around you.” I motion with my arm. “This place is sparkling.”
There’s no denying the place looks good. All the mats are neatly stacked. The merchandise displays dust free and stocked. The studio spotless.
“Wow. You’re really setting the world on fire,” she drawls and lies down to stretch out her hamstrings
“How’s staying with your dad?”
Devya’s face goes stone cold. “Awesome. He barely speaks to me.”
“Why don’t you move in with me? It would be so much less stressful for you.”
“Because it’s an exercise in follow-through.” She air quotes. “The only thing that stresses me is the possibility of running into Cunter. They still occasionally work together and I definitely would rather avoid seeing him.”
Hunter James is an entertainment lawyer and probably more closely related to sharks than human beings. This is the man Devya thought would be a great candidate to get engaged to so she could escape the engagement her mother had arranged for her in India. Sometimes Dev can go overboard with the drama. Here’s the punchline…wait for it…it didn’t go well.
Lying on her back, she glances over at where I’m sitting cross-legged, looking through our schedule for next week on the laptop.
