"She'd be happy to see you this happy," Thomas said quietly, and his eyes moved between Grant and Riley with unmistakable meaning.
The conversation moved on—to farming and weather and Riley's work in the city—but Riley felt the weight of what Thomas had said. She caught Grant's eye across the table, and a glance passed between them—understanding, maybe, or recognition.
This mattered. Whatever this was between them, it mattered.
After brunch, they cleaned up together while Thomas disappeared upstairs to "find his good coat." Grant washed while Riley dried, their shoulders bumping in the small kitchen.
"Your dad is not subtle," Riley murmured.
"Never has been." Grant handed her a plate. "But he means well."
Thomas reappeared, wearing his good coat and a smile that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. "Well, I'm off to Ellen's. She's expecting me for dessert and cards."
"Have fun," Grant said.
"Oh, I will. You kids enjoy your afternoon." Thomas winked at Riley. "I'll be back...late.Very late."
And then he was gone, and Riley and Grant were alone for the first time in what felt like forever.
The air between them shifted immediately—charged with all the wanting they'd been holding back.
"So," Riley said, her voice coming out breathier than she'd intended. "We're alone."
"Finally." Grant turned from the sink, wiping his hands on a towel, his eyes dark. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been not touching you for the past two days?"
"I might have some idea."
Grant closed the distance between them in two steps, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close. "The storage room. Your family's house. I've been going crazy."
"Me too," Riley admitted, her hands sliding up his chest. "I kept thinking about?—"
She didn't finish because Grant was kissing her, deep and hungry and full of days of pent-up wanting. Riley made a sound against his mouth and kissed him back just as desperately, her fingers tangling in his hair. He pushed her against the kitchen counter, devouring her moans.
"Upstairs," Grant said against her lips. "Now."
They barely made it.
Grant pulled her up the stairs, pausing twice to press her against the wall and kiss her like he couldn't wait anothersecond. Riley was already working at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin.
By the time they reached his bedroom, they were both breathing hard and half-undressed.
Grant kicked the door shut and pulled Riley to him, his hands everywhere—sliding under her sweater, unhooking her bra, pushing her jeans down her hips with impatient hands.
"Need you," he muttered against her neck. "Been thinking about this for days."
"Then do something about it."
Grant growled low in his throat and walked her backward to the bed. They fell onto it together, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses and clothes being shed as fast as they could manage.
Riley's sweater hit the floor. Grant's jeans followed. She was down to her underwear when Grant's mouth found her breast, and she gasped, arching into him.
"Grant—"
"I know. I know." His hands were on her hips, pulling her underwear down, his mouth following the path of exposed skin.
Riley reached for him, her hand wrapping around him, and Grant groaned. "If you do that, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast."
"Don't care. Want you."
