Page 23 of Working for the Runaway Bride

I bite back a laugh. “You walked into their territory.”

“Can you call them off?”

“They can sense fear.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Ava grabs his hand. “Come see my unicorn.”

He allows her to pull him toward one of the tables.

“You look afraid,” I say.

His gaze catches mine. For the first time since I met him, Grayson smiles. A real smile. Slow and warm, cutting through every rough line in his face. It changes him. Or maybe it changes something in me.

Because suddenly I don’t see Carter’s intimidating father. I don’t see the man everyone lowers their voice around or the former prisoner whose past no one discusses.

Carter told me early in our relationship about his past, though he never explained exactly what happened. Whenever I asked, he became defensive and accused me of judging his father. After that, I stopped mentioning it. I filled in the blank spaces myself. In my mind, prison meant violence. Anger. A man who lived by rules I couldn’t understand.

It explained Grayson’s silences and his hard expressions. It explained the muscles beneath his work shirts and the scar near his jaw. Now I see someone handsome enough to make my heart forget it’s supposed to be broken. The thought sends a nervous flutter through my stomach.

Knowing about his past made me cautious. But watching him now makes me ashamed of that caution. Whatever he did, the man crouching on my classroom carpet isn’t frightening. He’s gentle.

I turn away quickly.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Bringing back your car and checking on you. Carter said you didn’t stay at home last night.”

“You fixed it?.”

“I want to make sure it isn’t leaking. It drives perfectly.”

“You didn’t have to come all the way across town.”

“I was in the area.”

I glance through the windows. His garage is at least fifteen minutes west of the school. He wasn’t in the area but I don’t call him on the lie.

“Miss Molly,” Ava says, “can he read us a story?”

Grayson immediately stands. “I need to check the car.”

“You said you came to drop off the car,” I remind him. “You didn’t say you were in a hurry.”

His eyes narrow. “Whose side are you on?”

“Theirs.”

The children cheer. I laugh. The sound surprises me almost as much as it surprises him. Grayson studies my face. His expression softens, and my smile slowly fades beneath the intensity of his attention.

For one dangerous second, we’re no longer standing in a room filled with children. There’s only him. The man I’m not supposed to want near me.

I break eye contact. “One story.”

He glances toward the reading rug. “I don’t know how.”

“You read the words on the page.”