Still, I can’t help being curious.
What does she think of us?
What kind of stories has she been told?
Are we the reckless idiots from her dad’s glory days, or are we something else entirely?
Whatever her answer is, I want to hear it. Every damn word.
Noelle tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, pretending to consider her answer, but I can see the faint flush already creeping up her neck.
The firelight paints every little flicker of emotion across her face like an open book. “You…really want me to answer that?”
“Wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t, sweetheart.”
A shy smile stretches across her lips. “Okay, fine…”
I nod at her. “Go on, then. Hit us.”
She glances around the circle.
She leans forward a little, elbows on her knees, pretending to think, but I can tell by the faint, secret smile tugging at her lips that she already knows exactly what she’s going to say.
Her eyes finally land on Grant.
Her gaze flicks over him from his worn denim to the way he sits upright, hands resting loosely on his thighs.
Even when he’s at ease, Grant still looks like a man in charge of something.
It’s in the posture, the stillness that he holds himself with. You can’t easily erase that even after a glass and a half of wine buzzing through your veins.
“I’ll start with you first, Grant. Hm… let’s see…” She tilts her head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You strike me as the type to be strict with how you want things. I could see you scolding people over not leaving their shoes at the door. Or lecturing someone for touching something without asking. I don’t know… You seem like you run a tight ship. I know my dad told me you had a ranch at one point. Kind of fits, needing to be strict like that. Don’t you think? But I think you truly care about those around you. Maybe to a fault.”
That does it.
All three of us burst out laughing.
Even Grant, though true to form, tries to hide it behind a sip of his wine, his jaw tightening like he’s fighting to stay stoic despite the smile trying to crawl across his face.
It’s uncanny how easily she’s read him. Every word, every observation down to his infamous lectures, is spot on.
Grantdoesrun a tight ship.
Always has.
Doesn’t matter if it’s the ranch, a road trip, or a round of poker.
He runs it like a small kingdom with one iron rule.
Hearing it from Noelle, though, hits a little differently.
She’s not mocking him.
She’s justseeinghim, and that’s what gets me. Because most people miss the small stuff about Grant.
They see the rough edges, the quiet, the authority, but they don’t catch the diehard loyalty underneath, or the stubborn sense of care that drives him to do the things he does.
Out of anyone, she’s clocked it instantly with nothing but a handful of stories and a single evening to go off.
