He perked up. “Does that mean George is a go?”
“Nerrrmoo,” I exclaimed with my mouth full, laughing. “It means you’re making it impossible not to fall for you.”
“Then fall.” He gave me a dimpled, shaky smile, his eyes brightening. “I promise I’ll catch you.”
But it wasn’t that simple. Even though I was in love with Grant, I hadn’t actually heard him say the words to me. I knew he liked me. And that he wanted me. But love was a completely different notion.
We cleaned up in comfortable silence, and Grant went into the shower while I watered my gazillion plants and lit up his favorite candle of mine—the one that smelled like campfire, pines, and sweaty dudes. I put it in his bedroom and strode across the hall to my room. I didn’t want to move into the en suite, because I thought we would both benefit from taking it slow.
I stopped in the living room to grab my book, and then by the nursery, which was coming along very nicely. Maddie had made the executive decision a few days ago not to use wallpaper and to paint a mural instead. She’d already startedsketching the general strokes of giraffes and hot air balloons, and it looked fantastic. I smiled to myself as I shook my head and proceeded to my room.
A few minutes later, while I was already tucked in bed and reading the final chapters for our book club tomorrow, Grant appeared in my doorway, filling the frame with his impressive height and broad shoulders.
He looked scrumptious, freshly showered, tendrils of wet hair falling across his green eyes. He wore black sweatpants and a white Henley. I had no idea who’d authorized him to be this hot, but it sure wasn’t me.
“Hi.” He grabbed the top of the doorframe, showing off his biceps, because of course he had biceps as big as cantaloupes.
“Hello.” I eyed him beyond the rim of my paperback.
“What are you reading about?”
I put my book down in my lap and shot him a look. “Stop asking me that. Just assume that I’m either reading about Dear Desiree’s poor readers’ outrageous problems, or about an innocent yet sexually liberated virgin who is stuck in a cabin with a lot of hot, feral men who are willing to share her.”
“Hey, no judgment here. I just wanted to offer myself as service in case you needed to reenact one of the scenes again.” Pause. “For research purposes, of course.”
“How charitable of you.” I tilted my head.
He shrugged. “Science is my passion. Everyone knows that.”
“Well, this one is a reverse harem book, so in order to test any of the positions, we’ll need at least three more of your friends. Know any volunteers?”
Grant tapped his lips, pretending to think about it. “Hmm. I’m afraid not. Nobody I know has a death wish. How about we just choose an oldie but goodie?” He breezed insideand stopped in front of the shelves he’d put up for me the week before. “Oh, this one is fantastic.” Grant pulled out one of my Adriana Locke books and tapped it. “Remember that one?”
I pressed my lips together, stifling a laugh. “Yes, the bookisfantastic, but you haven’t even read it. All you know is that he shoved a grape inside her.”
“What more do you need in a plot?” He gave me an outraged expression. “Immediate five star. Highly recommend. We both had a good time when I ate it off of you.”
I flipped my comforter off and stood up, then walked over to him. I hugged his waist, looking up at him with a smile. “You know, we can always create our own, original scene.” I wiggled my brows.
He scowled, feigning confusion. “Are we suggesting we’ll be original?”
“I’m actually demanding it.” I hooked my index finger into the elastic of his sweatpants, kissing his neck and slowly trailing my kisses down his shirt.
He tipped his head back, groaning. “I’m all for a woman who knows what she wants.”
And it felt good, showing Grant how much I wanted him back after all the time he’d spent making me feel wanted and admired.
That night, I thanked him not only for being the perfect partner and parent, but also for putting together what Connor had broken and left behind.
Chapter Seventeen
Grant
“What do you mean, you can’t take the job?” Rosa, the head of the oncology department at my new job, tilted her head sideways on my laptop screen. Our Zoom connection was spotty, and I had to tell her five different times that I was not moving to Minnesota. The first three times, she thought I said I was going on vacation in Sarasota. “This is not a bingo night with friends, Dr. Gerwig. You accepted the position. We’ve prepared for you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. It wasn’t like me to bail on a job. It wasn’t like me to bail onanything. But I also knew my limits, and I drew the line at being away from my partner and baby most of the week.
I couldn’t do it.
