“You said your house was too big for one person.”
“That, it is.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“I can’t wait either.” He smiles down at me.
Then he walks backward toward his Jeep, his eyes shamelessly lingering on me the whole way. “See you at lunch, Hallie.”
“See you.”
My heart feels constricted, but in a good way, like before you run a race or when you come down the stairs Christmas morning. I smile all the way home. Before I walk into the house, I take a few breaths. Mom’s bound to be up, and she can sniff out anything unusual. I don’t want her sniffing anywhere near Greyson.
And now I’m picturing my mom and Henry Cavill, both on all fours, panting and sniffing Greyson’s shoes and legs.
I’m officially losing it.
I make quick work of the shower. Shaving my legs for no reason. I take too long deciding what to wear.
You’re just going to see his house, Hallie. It’s not a date.
I do my hair, blowing it out until it’s wavy and full. Around the station, I wear it up a lot, or it ends up a mess from a long day of moving around and answering calls. I’m putting in effort, and I know it. I can’t help myself. This is Ace. Greyson. Grey. He’s the boy from Munich, but I get the feeling even if he weren’t he’d have a certain pull on me with his silent, watchful ways and his constant vigilance over others. As inconvenient as he is, he matters—probably more than I want to admit right now.
On that note, I pick up my cell and head out of my bedroom.
Mom’s in the kitchen when I walk in. Henry’s at her feet, like an oversized mop when not in use. He jumps up and trots over to me, licking my hand and wagging his tail.
“Hey, Henry.” I ruffle his head.
Mom breaks into a wolf whistle—one that rivals any group of gawking construction workers.
“Well. Well.” Her eyes go from my hair to my shirt to my nicest pair of jeans to my shoes.
“What?” I ask, turning my back to her and grabbing a glass for some very, very cold water.
It’s suddenly hot in the kitchen and I don’t want to sweat my makeup off. Yes. I’m wearing makeup. Will Greyson think it’s too much? Agh. I’m not used to giving any of this a second thought. I feel like I’m getting on a roller coaster after years of avoiding theme parks.
“What do you mean,What?” Mom says, wagging her brows. “You look like wow-eee zow-eee kowabunga. I’m pretty sure looking that hot in small town Tennessee will bring all the boys to the yard. You’d better prepare yourselffor a mob of men out there, missy. Should I set up a lemonade stand to hydrate your suitors while they wait in line to see you?”
I break into a laugh. “Mom! Where did you hear that saying?”
“My last date said it to me. Fun, huh? He told me my milkshake brought all the boys to the yard. I made him take me to ice cream for saying that.”
I fill my glass and join Mom at the island. “You’re officially ridiculous.”
“And you’re officially dressed up. Where are you headed? I thought we could spend the day together. I’ve got a date tonight.”
“Another one?”
“They’re just dates, Hallie. And they’re fun. Mostly.”
“Are you looking for someone … never mind.” I swallow a sip of water and the rest of my question. Who am I to judge Mom? She’s single. If she wants to run through the eligible men in Waterford, so be it.
“I’m going out to see a friend,” I tell her.
“A friend?” Her one brow raises. It’s a thing with her. “Since when do you have friends?”
“I have friends.”
