Page 43 of PR Stunt

Everyone talks about the big, obvious sunset. The part that demands attention.

I’ve always preferred this side. The one you have to look for.

I’ve always been more of a sunset girl than a sunrise one.

“Nice view.”

His voice carries up from below.

I jolt, nearly losing my footing as I grab the railing to steady myself. The pink camellia slips from my fingers, tumbling over the edge.

Lovely. Stank Breath is here.

He’s standing on the patio below, hands shoved into the pockets of his black leather jacket, head tilted back, watching with a faint, bemused expression.

“How long have you been standing there?” I demand.

“Long enough.”

I narrow my eyes. “You could’ve said something.”

He gestures vaguely toward the horizon. “Didn’t want to interrupt whatever that was. Very brooding heroine energy.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do you need something?”

“Dinner,” he says. “That thing we’re supposed to do so people think you actually like me?”

I push off the railing and turn too quickly, nearly tripping again.

He laughs under his breath.

“Two minutes,” I call over my shoulder as I head inside.

Walking downstairs, I snatch my phone off the kitchen island and slide it into my purse. Through the back door window, I spot Grayson. His back is to me as he leans against the doorframe, feet crossed at the ankles, and stares out over the ocean.

I walk to the door, unlock it quickly, and yank it open.

Grayson stumbles back a step, caught off guard, his hand shooting out to brace against the frame.

“Jesus, Charlie,” he mutters, straightening.

I fold my arms. “You were blocking the exit.”

My gaze drops to the flower in his hand and then back to him. “Where’d you get that?”

He shrugs, rolling the camellia between his fingers. “You dropped it from the balcony. These your favorite?”

He extends it lazily, but the way he holds it, careless but deliberate, makes it feel like something else entirely.

I snatch the flower from him. His fingers brush mine, brief but noticeable. I turn and tuck it back into the vase on the island with the rest of the camellias.

“Let’s go play happy couple.”

I grab my purse and stride toward the back door. Grayson pulls it shut behind us. Once it clicks closed, I turn the lock and lead us down the side path, my heels clicking against the stone as the patio lights cast long shadows toward the gate. I punch in the code: 7777.

Grayson shakes his head. “You might as well just put 1234.”

I glare at him over my shoulder. “I’m not changing it.”