Page 37 of Grant’s Flame

“Do I?”

Goddammit.

I barely kept that one silent. Instead I fumed out a harsh breath before demanding, “Why are you saying this? And why the fuck are you acting this way toward me? I haven’t done anything. Or have I and just haven’t realized it yet? Is this about me cutting things short back in the stateroom?”

Rio gave her head a little shake, grinning as if contemplating a response but then thinking better of it. “No,” she finally murmured. “This isn’t about that. And I really don’t want to fight about it, okay?”

“Fine.” I gathered a fistful of my hair. “I mean, okay. That’s okay, baby. I don’t want to bicker, either. I’m sorry I lost my temper. I don’t want to make you upset. I just want to understand what’s going on. Will you help me?”

More of the deafening silence. Thank fuck for the constant drone of the vessel’s motor, along with the sweeps of water against the hull. I was doing everything in my power to stay calm, and the steady rhythms were a big help—especially as she stared back at me with what looked like solid contempt.

But why?

I couldn’t figure anything out…

I took a healthy gulp of water from my glass but kept my stare trained on her over the brim the entire time. She merely closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the morning sun. It was definitely going to be a warm day out on the open water.

“Are you disappointed we’re making port soon? Is that what set you off?” I asked it as gently as I could, trying to restart a conversation.

“Set me off?” She dropped her head, now squinting to focus on me. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tree. I don’t want to be cooped up with you any longer than I have to be.”

I decided to ignore that. No point being derailed by her bratty behavior. I was starting to figure out her game. At least I hoped. “Well, I’m just using some logical deduction,” I explained. “That is when you did the one-eighty. Mood wise, I mean.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “See what I mean? You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

She clearly wasn’t pausing to think about her actions, so neither did I. Without thinking it through at all, I stretched out my arm, snatched the base of her chair, and dragged it across the deck until she was right in front of me. Before she could react, I quickly bracketed her legs on either side with my own. Perfect. I had her trapped in place. And it was exactly as I intended.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she seethed and squirmed impatiently.

“Keeping you right here so we can talk this out,” I said, countering with calmness. Maybe if I infused the air around us with enough tranquility, it would bring her anxiety down a few notches. But not right away. Rio huffed through her nose like a little angry bull, and I chuckled at the image. Of course, that only served to piss her off more, and she tried to push back from the confinement I’d created with our chairs.

“Damn it, Grant! Let me go!”

I shook my head slowly from left to right. “I don’t think I can do that, Blaze.”

Not now. Maybe ever.

But I knew better than to say that aloud. Not if I didn’t want the woman diving overboard. She’d do it too. Anything to save herself from dealing with the growing emotions between us.

Plus, I had to face a bigger truth than that.

I was being a fool. An unfair one, at that. It was wrong to pin her down and define her feelings for me at this point. What we had—if we had anything at all by now—was still new and fragile and wild and uncertain.

I knew that.

I swore I knew that, and I told myself that over and over. Preached it to myself, really. Yet, somehow, she kept crawling deeper under my skin.

Who the hell was I kidding with that shit, too? She wasn’t under my skin. She had penetrated so much deeper than that. Rio Gibson had burrowed a tunnel straight into my heart, and I was so fucked because of it.

Because I wasn’t sure how I was going to get her out at this point.

What was making the whole situation worse? There wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to.

Chapter Eight

Rio

Third time’s the charm, right? Or so I told myself when my phone vibrated on the bed beside me. I’d ignored it the other two times but figured I had better check the screen in the odd event it wasn’t my shipmate. Abbigail was due to labor my nephew into the world any day, after all, and while I didn’t hold out much hope of getting a cell signal in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Grant wasn’t the only persistent one around here. He’d said we would be pulling into port tomorrow, so we had to be getting closer to land.