His voice is tight and laced with frustration, and his body language matches. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as the veins on his forearms strain against his skin. His jaw is tense, his glare fixed on theroad ahead, and the energy radiating off him is electric. My skin burns under the heat of his temper, and I can't ignore the way my body reacts.
I'm especially tingly around my lady bits. Angry Grant is hot.
"I'm sure that's true," I say, trying to sound casual despite the growing heat in the car. "But right now, I'm not willing to validate it. Besides, I'm focused on my career. I have no time for dating, much less any kind of relationship."
His grip on the steering wheel doesn't loosen, and his eyes remain locked on the road. "We've got about twenty more minutes, and then we should be there."
I guess that conversation is over.
"No rush. This is a beautiful drive. I've only been up this way a few times, and this will be my first time at Honey Pine Farms."
"You're going to love it. Hazel makes me drive her out to watch meteor showers. She tells me it's the only place you can see stars since LA has too many lights."
"She's got you there. I love that she's into all that science."
"Yeah, and all things space. She's determined to be the first woman to walk on the Moon or live on Mars—or both."
"I love that so much. She's amazing. If she has half the talent and instinct her dad does, I have no doubt she'll reach her goals."
He turns my way, and I see a flicker of pride and vulnerability in his eyes. Surely, he knows how amazing he is. That his daughter is only six years old and already plotting to make history as a woman says so much about what kind of father he is to her.
"Thanks. I hope so. We're here," he says, ending the conversation. He rolls down his window to chat with the security guard, and then we pass through the gates and make our way to the main cabin on the property.
"You ready to tour this land?" he asks.
"I'm all yours," I tell him, fully aware of the double meaning behind that statement.
eight
. . .
Grant
No wondershe doesn't date. She's only been with idiots. If she were mine, she'd know exactly how she should be treated.
I shake those thoughts from my head, but the more time I spend with Sophia, the harder it gets. Thank God we've arrived because I need a break from being this close to her. Her sweet scent reminds me of summer, which makes me think about her in those shorts and that tank top, or more accurately, how they'd look crumpled on my floorboards right now.
Talking to her feels easy, natural, which somehow makes me antsy. Usually, I don't feel anything for women—not beyond physical pleasure and the satisfaction of no strings attached. This…feeling…is new. Unwelcome.
I've been accused of being cold or emotionless before, but those accusations usually come from women who don't believe me when I tell them upfront I'm not interested in a relationship. I never lie about what I can offer—casual, uncomplicated fun. They always say they're fine with it, but they fool themselves into thinking they'll be different, that they'll break through and make me fall in love. When I don't, they call me cold. But I've never played games. I've always been truthful. That's just who I am.
Sophia, though, makes me wonder if I've been wrong all this time. Could she break me? Could she be the exception?
"This way." My voice comes out rough, and I clear my throat. "We'll walk through the frontier set. That leads back to the trail for our hike."
She steps ahead, and I immediately regret letting her take the lead. I hadn't gotten a good look at her outfit earlier, but now…now I'm getting the full picture. Black athletic shorts. A hot pink tank top clinging to her curves like it's painted on. Sensible Brooks sneakers. She's not trying to impress me—she's practical, grounded—and that somehow makes her even hotter. My mind wanders to dangerous places. I have to force myself to focus.
"How many sets are up here?" she asks, glancing back at me.
"There's the western town, a suburban neighborhood, and a campground with cabins. Those are fully built out—you can actually stay in them."
"Amazing. It's gorgeous up here."
She takes in the scenery with wide-eyed wonder, and I can't help but admire her. Most people in this business get jaded, but she's not. She still sees the magic, the possibility. It's refreshing.
"So, Grant," she says, breaking the silence, “I know you grew up in New York. How'd you end up in LA?"
"It's a story as old as time. A boy sees a movie he loves and decides right then to make movies. The rest is history."
