Riley's anger flickered, replaced by something softer. "Really?"
"Really." Grant stepped closer, backing her against the bar. "You think Tessa Martin touching my arm matters when I woke up this morning with you in my bed?"
Riley's breath caught. "Grant?—"
"When I've been thinking about last night all day? When I drove here specifically at this time today because I knew you'd be here?"
"You said it was for the barrels."
"The barrels were an excuse. I could have come any time today. I wanted to see you."
Riley's eyes searched his. "This is a bad idea."
"What is?"
"This. Us. Getting this—" She stopped. "Invested."
"Too late."
"Grant—"
He kissed her, cutting off whatever rationalization she'd been about to make. Riley melted into him immediately, her drink forgotten on the bar, her hands fisting in his shirt.
When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Grant rested his forehead against hers. "You don't have to be jealous of Tessa."
"I'm not jealous."
"You just said you were."
"I changed my mind."
Grant laughed. "Liar."
Riley pulled back just enough to look at him, something determined in her eyes. "Come on."
"Where?"
She grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the booth. Grant followed, confused.
Riley slid into the booth, but instead of sitting across from everyone, she positioned herself right next to Grant—closer than before, her body angled toward his.
Tessa was making her way back from the bar, drink in hand, clearly intending to stop by their table again.
Riley saw her coming.
And then, with zero warning, Riley turned to Grant, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him.
Not a peck. Not a quick brush of lips. A real kiss—deep and possessive and absolutely deliberate. Her fingers slid into his hair, angling his head exactly how she wanted it, and Grant's brain short-circuited.
His hands found her waist automatically, pulling her closer, and he kissed her back because there was no other option. Riley Monroe was claiming him in the middle of Hannigan's Bar, and it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.
When Riley finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and her eyes were bright with satisfaction.
Grant's heart was pounding. That kiss was a message, loud and clear—a public claiming that everyone in this bar had just witnessed.
Riley straightened, smoothing her sweater like she hadn't just made a public declaration. She glanced toward the bar where Tessa stood frozen, drink halfway to her mouth, eyes wide.
"Sorry," Riley called sweetly. "What were you saying, Tessa?"
