But not far enough.
Eliza and Ben lobbed their water balloons in his direction, one smacking Grant in the shoulder, the other hitting his left calf. Pink and green paint dripped down his body, sprinkling the grass.
Giggling, Ben ran to one of the buckets. “Now you have to say on the tarp!” He grabbed a green balloon and chucked it at Eliza, who squealed and tried to duck out of the way. It hit her square in the stomach, much to Ben’s delight.
In a split second, Grant had recovered from his shock, kicked off his flip-flops, and sprinted toward the bucket filled with blue water balloons. Snatching one in each hand, he rapid-fire released them, nailing Ben in the leg and decorating Eliza’s backside.
Peals of laughter filled the air as they splattered paint all over the tarp—and each other—slipping and sliding in the puddles of pink, blue, and green. Although Grant suspected the paint was washable, he didn’t care. He was having the time of his life! Saddened only to find his supply of ammunition had dwindled.
Down to his last balloon, Grant knew he needed to make it count. He zeroed in on Eliza and made a beeline straight for her.
Disregarding the rules to remain on the tarp, Eliza shrieked with laughter and took off across the lawn.
Grant followed in close pursuit, keeping an eye on the pink water balloon gripped in her hand.
Rounding the tool shed, Grant closed the gap, grasping her forearm.
Eliza squealed, trying to fight him off between fits of breathless laughter.
Unable to wiggle free, she flung the balloon at his head, but Grant dove out of the way, dragging them both to the ground in a tangle of slippery limbs.
His body braced over hers, Grant held up his balloon, grinning devilishly. “For your sake, I hope this is washable paint.”
“It is,” she gasped, her dark eyes locked on his, her breath ragged.
For a moment, all Grant could think about was lowering his mouth to hers, finally drinking her in. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he was certain she could hear the pounding of his heartbeat, mere inches away from her own.
Eliza’s pupils dilated, signaling to Grant that she was thinking the same exact thing.
Tossing the water balloon aside, Grant cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer as she parted her lips, her eyelids fluttering closed.
This was it.
The moment he’d dreamt about nonstop. The one that would reveal the barely contained emotions he’d been too cowardly to share. The one moment that would change everything….
Smack!
A short, sharp pain pricked the back of Grant’s neck and green paint slowly dripped down his collarbone, trickling onto Eliza’s throat.
“Got you!” Ben hopped up and down, wiggling his arms in some sort of victory dance.
Eliza shifted beneath him, but not before Grant caught the look in her eyes—a mixture of disappointment, longing, and… fear?
But fear of what?
Of things not working out?
Or was Eliza more afraid of what would happen if thingsdidwork out?
Whatever the reason, Grant would make it his mission to eliminate any ounce of apprehension. For both of them.
Because somehow, when he’d least expected it, these two oddballs had become his family. And he’d give up everything—even his biggest account—in order to keep them.
Chapter 21
While Grant worked with Ben at one of the bakery’s bistro tables—Grant on the website, Ben on his homework—Grant stole glances in Eliza’s direction. Occasionally, he’d catch her staring at him out of the corner of her eye while she polished the antique cash register.
It felt as though they were performing a dance, sidestepping around their feelings, never quite admitting the truth.
