Lark bit her lower lip, the gesture reminding him of her twin. Clearly, it was something both sisters did when they were uncomfortable.
“Did you yell at her?” Lark asked, not answering his question.
“No.”
“Were you mean?”
Grayson shook his head. “No.”
“Did you scare her?”
That question irritated him. “Of course not! I don’t scare women, Lark. I confronted her and let her know I was upset by her lie.”
“Technically, it was my lie,” Lark corrected.
“No, it wasn’t. You both shared in that subterfuge. And while you might think you had a good reason for doing so, it went too far.”
Lark frowned, confused—which was interesting. Because it told him Wren hadn’t been completely forthcoming with her sister about what happened between them at the festival.
But he didn’t have time to address that. He was too worried about what Lark wasn’t saying.
“What’s wrong with Wren?”
Lark sighed again. “She’s back sliding.”
“Back sliding?”
She pursed her lips, shaking her head, a wall slamming down between them.
“What does back sliding mean?” he repeated, unable to mask the concern in his tone.
“Nothing,” she said.
Her silence piqued his anger. “I’m not sure why you’re acting like I’m the bad guy here. You and Wren were the ones playing games.”
“She was helping me!” Lark retorted. “Helping me keep my job.”
“Fine,” he spat. “But kissing me wasn’t required to do that!”
Lark froze—completely—and it occurred to Grayson that he’d never seen the woman so still. Not once. But now, it was as if she’d stared straight into Medusa’s eyes and turned to stone.
Worse than that, the color drained from her face.
“What?” she whispered.
Grayson immediately regretting saying anything.
“You kissed her?” Lark asked, her voice so soft, Grayson barely heard her. There was no outrage in her tone. Instead, there was something worse. Something inexplicable.
Panic.
Grayson nodded. “We kissed,” he said more gently, wondering what the hell was so wrong about him and Wren sharing a kiss.
“Oh my God,” Lark said, more to herself than to him. “Why wouldn’t she tell me that?” She began pacing across the kitchen, tugging on her ponytail. After five trips back and forth, she finally stopped and faced him again. “Was she okay?”
Grayson stared at her. “What?” Her question made absolutely no sense.
“After you kissed her,” Lark clarified, speaking to him like he was a toddler. “Was she okay?”
