“I guess you’re right,” he said. “Never thought of it like that.” He reached for the bottle of wine and stood. “Do you mind if I grab an opener?”
She folded her hands under her chin and rested her elbows on the table. “Sure, it’s on the counter.”
He filled her glass and then his own. “I don’t know a lot about wine. The lady atCooper’sHawksaid this was a good choice, though.”
More effort. This man had put out a fire and had still taken the time to stop at a plant shop and a wine shop before coming to her door.
She picked up the glass and took a sip. “She didn’t lie,” Stassi said. “Tell me why you’re single. Or am I assuming that? Are you single? Cuz niggas be lying these days. You could be here with me and have a wife or girlfriend waiting for you at home.”
“Man, that seems like a lot of lies to keep up with. Niggas really have that type of time on their hands?” he asked.
“You would be surprised,” she answered.
He shook his head. “I’m single, Stassi,” he said. “My job makes it real hard to date. Women aren’t typically patient with me on that. It’s a lot of overnights, a lot of interrupted dates, and missed moments because I’m a first responder. I work a lot of holidays. It can be a lot, I guess. What about you?” he asked as he raised his glass to his lips.
“I had a thing that I thought could be something, but men play a lot of games. I’m not quite sure where that stands, if I’m honest,” she said. “It’s still kind of fresh.”
“You’re playing the same type of games you hate it sounds like.”
“I mean, am I? I like for things to be clear. Like, if we’re dating and you don’t want me to date anyone else, say that. That’s the type of time I’m on. Men sometimes do all the things that scream relationship, and then as soon as you start to feel like you’re important, they act like you’re not in a relationship. The guessing games get exhausting.”
“So, the last guy you liked fucked up, basically,” Grayson presumed.
“He just sends mixed messages, and now I’m here cooking for you,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. She raised her glass. “To keeping shit clear.”
“To keeping it clear,” he replied, tapping her glass with his own.
The wine made Stassi loose, and her head spun a little.
“It’s strong, right?” Grayson noticed her eyes had lowered a bit.
“It’s so good. It sneaks up on you.”
He turned in his chair so that he was facing her. “Definitely,” he chuckled. “I appreciate all this.”
“Yeah, no problem. I have something you can wrap this up in if you want to take the rest down to the station for the rest of the guys,” she said.
“Should I take that as my cue to wrap this up?” he asked.
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh my God, no!” she said, laughing. “No,” she repeated sternly. “I’m having a really good time. Are you not? Are you, like looking for a reason to duck out?”
“Not gon’ lie. A little bit,” he said. She covered her mouth with one hand, and her eyes widened.
“Oh my Godddd. That’s so bold!” she exclaimed, laughing.
“Nah, I’m bullshitting. I’m bullshitting,” he said, joining in her laughter. “This is smooth. Not too much pressure. Good food. Easy conversation. It’s a good night.”
“Go easier on me, Grayson. My heart can’t take too much rejection,” she teased.
The conversation was easy, and Stassi appreciated that there was no pressure to this date. The comfort of her home made her feel like she was in control—home court advantage and such.
“I think I’m the one who should be worried about rejection.”
Stassi leaned against the back of her chair and faced him. Her thighs were between his as they stared at one another.
“Why don’t we just make some rules to this thing right here and now? That way, we’re on the same page, and nobody ends up feeling a way,” she said.
“A dating contract?” he asked.
