Grady offers a sharp jerk of his head. “We’re done with that. Haven’t heard one in years.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Mine, of course. We don’t need to play the blame game.” The light snuffs out from his gaze. My chest aches as I watch him disappear behind that damn mask of indifference. “Everything is my fault.”
“That’s not true.” I shuffle forward, but he retreats further.
“Doesn’t really matter, Sutt.” He juts his chin toward the door. “Go back to your friends. Ignore that douchebag if he starts any shit.”
I lace my fingers together. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
I want to know where he rests his head at night. I’m desperate to hear him admit his jealousy again. I need more truths from him. The possibilities spin on repeat. But he turns away without another word.
“Hey, Gray?”
He pauses, but doesn’t turn around.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
His shoulders bunch under the weight of my request. He looks back at me, the barest hint of a smirk lifting his lips. “No promises.”
Warmth tickles my lower belly as the hum of his words caress me. I’ll have to accept that. For now.
The initial Grady haze is fading and I become aware of our surroundings. Very specifically, a motorcycle that’s parked right in front of me. The chrome glints under the overhead lamp. He approaches the bike and straddles the seat. I’m sure my eyes are bulging wide.
“Surprised?” He palms a gleaming black helmet.
I nod. “Yeah, a lot.”
Grady strokes over some orange flames painted on the fuel tank. “It’s dangerous and chaotic. Fits me well.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. The motorcycle roars to life and he peels out of the alley. I stand there silently, gaping at the cloud of dust left in his wake. What the hell happened while I was gone?
6
Grady
Happy something #32: A home-cooked meal. Even better if there are others sitting around the table to enjoy the food with.
Ishove the crowbar under another piece of rotting wood. The old board gives way with a single pop. I toss it onto the growing pile beside me. Wash, rinse, repeat. I’ve been at this for hours and barely made a dent. At this rate, the wraparound porch will never get replaced. Much like the rest of this house.
My stomach grumbles with a loud protest, but I’m not ready to quit. I’m losing daylight by the second and need to get some semblance of progress done. Jace’s recent offer to lend a hand is sounding a lot more appealing.
From his spot on the lawn, Bear suddenly snaps to attention. A low growl is already rattling from his throat. His head jerks to the side, ears pointing forward with rapt interest. Before I can blink, my dog leaps to his paws and tears off toward the driveway.
“Shit.” I toss down my tools. “Dammit, Bear.”
His howling bark echoes off the trees and I jog to catch up. When I round the house, Bear is rearing up on the driver’s side of a red coupe. The glare from the windshield hides my trespasser's identity. I stride forward and squint at the figure behind the wheel.
No fucking way.
But there’s no mistaking her beauty. Sutton’s mocha hair shines in the setting sun, those golden rays streaking the dark tresses. A flush stains the smooth skin of her chest and neck. A large majority of my blood shoots south at the sight. I want to trace the path with my tongue. The semi in my shorts agrees with a twitch. A startled yelp drags me from the erotic fantasy.
Sutton is cowering in her seat, gawking at my dog’s vicious snarl through the glass. She seems to be frozen in place. I catch the rapid breaths puffing off her lips. Those big baby blues are blown open wide while she absorbs the very high probability of being attacked.
I reach for Bear’s collar and tug him off her car. He pulls at my hold with the force of a buffalo. I wince at the pressure on my sore muscles. Bear doesn’t relent, attempting to break free by any means necessary.
