“Just in case you start getting any ideas,” she teased, with every ounce of Lark-like bravado she could muster.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he tossed back. “I don’t bite.”
Those words didn’t ease her mind like she might have expected. Instead, they sent her thoughts down an avenue they never, ever traveled.
“Good to know,” she retorted, as he approached his side of the bed, sinking down on the mattress.
He threw her a sexy smirk over his shoulder. “Unless you beg me to.”
Wren’s breath hitched.
The teasing line landed like a spark against dry tinder, catching her entirely off guard. Heat rushed to her cheeks so fast, it almost hurt.
Lark would have volleyed something outrageous back without missing a beat, but Wren wasn’t that quick. Actually, for the moment, she was struggling to remember how words worked.
Thankfully, Grayson didn’t seem to notice her momentary lapse. Or if he did, he chalked it up to her exhaustion rather than a total internal collapse.
He rose again, grabbing the TV remote from the desk. “On or off?”
“Off,” she said.
He switched the television off and climbed on top of the covers, laying on his back. “Jesus. I think my feet are about to officially file for a divorce.”
Those words coaxed a real laugh out of her. “You should probably let them go. Toxic relationships never work.”
Grayson chuckled, folding one arm beneath his head, turning slightly toward her. Her pillow wall started at their shoulders, so there was nothing obstructing his view of her face. “You offering couples counseling?”
“Is that your way of asking for a foot rub?”
Grayson’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively. “Never crossed my mind, but now that you mention it…”
Wren shook her head, his witty banter going a long way to slowing down the pace of her wildly racing heart. Suddenly, channeling Lark came more naturally. “Forget it. Never happening.”
“Never’s a long time.”
“You always this chatty when you’re tired?” she asked.
Grayson rolled to his side, fully facing her. “I contain multitudes,” he joked.
“Like?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. Ask me something.”
She wasn’t about to refuse that offer, even though her smartest play right now was to roll over and attempt to go to sleep. “Tell me something I don’t know about your family.”
And so he did. She knew a couple of Grayson’s younger cousins, Nora and Remi, personally from school, but most of the Storm kids were older than her, so she was fascinated by his stories of growing up basically feral amongst the grapevines.
Then he asked about her family, and again, it was an easy conversation to have—so long as she mainly told stories about her parents and younger siblings. She was too freaking tired to risk saying much about herself—as Lark—or her true self in third person.
As her stories about her family’s adventures traveling to countless National Parks wound down, his gaze lingered on her face.
“What?” she asked, when his gaze remained.
“Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re staring at me.”
“You just seem…” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “Different today.”
