Burke cleared his throat, caught between a rock and a hard place. “Sweetheart… you’re forgetting about the guest bath.”
Caitlin’s expression went blank, then her eyes widened. “Ohhh, no. I forgot.” She turned back to Izzy, genuinely pained. “Iz, Luke, and Burke have the tile all torn out of the shower. Theyhit a snag with the plumbing, and it’s a total disaster zone right now. You literally can’t shower in there.”
Izzy waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I can just get a hotel, it’s not a problem. I saw a nice resort near the airport on the way in—Blackwater Lake Lodge?”
Grant, who had been leaning against the tack room door with his arms crossed, finally spoke up. His voice was low and steady, leaving very little room for argument.
“You’re already settled here,” Grant said, his gaze fixed on Izzy. “There’s no need to spend the money or move all your things again. Just stay at the farm.”
Burke shifted his weight, cutting his eyes toward his brother with a sharp, knowing look—the kind of look that said I see exactly what you’re doing. Grant didn’t flinch. He met Burke’s look with a cold, hard stare that effectively ended the conversation.
“That’s settled then,” Burke muttered, hiding a smirk as he turned back to the girls.
Caitlin beamed. “Perfect. Then I’ll be over tomorrow as soon as I’m finished at the museum. We’ll have coffee on the porch, and you can tell me everything.”
Izzy nodded, her eyes lingering on Grant too long. “Good. Because there is something I found… something I have to show you, Cate. I can’t wait.”
* * *
Once the party ended and everyone had left, the short drive back to the main house was a blur of headlights and leftover music, the lingering scent of expensive wine in the air. She replayed the way Grant had shut down any talk of a hotel, the hard line in his jaw when he said she should stay at the farm. He’dmade it sound practical. She was starting to wonder if there was anything practical about it at all.
“I’m going to get out of this outfit and put on pajamas,” Izzy said, her voice a touch rougher than it had been an hour ago. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at him. “Will you pour me another wine, Grant? I’m not quite ready for the night to be over.”
As she turned and took the stairs, she felt his gaze on the silk at her back, a low, humming awareness that made the idea of sleep feel very far away.
“I’ll have it waiting,” Grant rumbled.
He watched her walk away, teal silk swaying with every step.
Ten minutes later, he was in the kitchen when he heard her call his name. It wasn’t a scream—just a frustrated sound from the hallway.
“Grant? I’m… I’m stuck.”
He set the wineglass down and walked into the hall.
Izzy stood with her back to him, hands reaching behind her neck in a tangle of silk and dark hair.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just stepped in close, heat rolling off him as he closed the last bit of space between them.
“Can you get it?” she asked, a little laugh in her voice, a little something else.
His fingers brushed hers as he reached for the zipper.
She stilled.
Didn’t move away.
Didn’t ask him to.
Grant dropped his hand to her shoulder instead, turning her just enough that her palm met the wall. His mouth was suddenly right at her ear, his body a solid line against her back.
“You have no idea,” he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous vibration, “the things I’ve been thinking about doing to you in this silk all night.”
Her stomach flipped.
“I might,” she managed.
He dipped his head, pressing a slow, searing kiss to the sensitive curve where her neck met her shoulder before finally catching the zipper.
