Page 38 of Grant’s Flame

That being said, I wasn’t optimistic about being on the shortlist of people Abbi would be calling on her way to the hospital. Not after everything that had happened between her husband and me. But I was still the widow of her brother. Nothing would ever change that. I would forever be her baby’s auntie. Before Sean’s accident, I’d been a welcomed member of the crew looking forward to Kaisan’s birth.

And there it was.

I felt the same familiar weight on my chest whenever the tragic topic came up. Whether it had been voiced aloud or just bounced around in my own head—the feeling was there all the same. Cold. Relentless. Unchanging. Unforgiving. It was just like the lump that rose up in my throat and the chaos that clamored in my mind.

Sean’s accident. My husband’s death.

So here I sat, the widow of a virile, exuberant, smart, and witty man. The man I adored with my whole heart. But all the love and commitment in the world wouldn’t change the fact that he was ripped from my life one weekday afternoon—at three seventeen, to be exact. The time was branded on my memory forever.

Even now, months after the funeral and packing his clothes in boxes for charitable donations, one painful truth stood out among the others. While I was trying so hard to pick up the shattered pieces of my life, the people around me who professed to care the most didn’t notice I was dying too.

None of them except for Grant.

The man noticed everything. Every. Thing. He had a way of seeing through the mask and bullshit I sold to everyone else.

Most of my friends and family were so wrapped up in their own lives, they didn’t pay attention to mine. And I couldn’t really fault them for it. If I were honest with myself, I would have probably done the exact same thing to someone if they were silently screaming for help. It was easy to overlook someone else’s pain when your head was buried in the sand of your own daily grind.

But again, enter Grant Twombley. Always the anomaly. He had been the one to offer a steady hand when I needed it. The problem now, I’d gotten used to leaning on him—and it felt too good. Too right. But what did that say about me? My husband died just a few months ago, and I could already see us sharing laughs over pizza and Sunday afternoon movies.

Spending time with Grant was so effortless. He made everything in the world seem right again. Something about his easygoing smile and calm aura made me feel like I could muster the courage to take on the world again. The voyage across the ocean made me see things clearer, and I was pretty sure that was part of his plan the entire time.

My phone vibrated again, and I jumped when I realized I never answered the last text like I had meant to. I read the message on the screen and smiled a small smile. At least I could allow myself to do that when I was locked away with Robert. He wouldn’t tell anyone my secret. I just needed to pull my shit together and leave my little hideout and go back to our cabin. There was no way I could fall back into bed with the man, though.

But there was also no way I could keep letting myself fall deeper for him emotionally, either. One of us was going to get hurt, and I knew my heart couldn’t withstand any more pain. That tattered organ had battle wounds as though it had been on the front lines of a war with no weapon for defense and no armor for protection. Grant didn’t deserve that kind of pain either. Shit, he had been nothing short of accommodating, doting, and amazing. The model good-looking playboy millionaire deserved someone better than me and my laundry list of eccentricities. And that was the nice way of putting it. In a crueler mood, I’d have used terms like volatile, irrational, and insane.

Tough words for the tough love I was trying to impress upon myself. It didn’t feel any better than it sounded. Grant would like it even less.

But the matter was settled. It was time for me to put on a mask of indifference and, from now on, resist the sexy charms of the magnificent Mr. Twombley. We were nearly to Honolulu and would have a few days on land in Hawaii before we started the return leg home. I’d be able to get through it all if I kept up the personal pep talks and also avoided any skin-to-skin contact with the man. Or so I’d have to keep telling myself.

I sighed, gave my sweet Robert one last scratch under his chin, and rolled off the bed. I gave my hair a quick finger comb in the helm-shaped mirror on the wall and then was off to find out what was so important that Mr. Twombley was texting me like a teenager with his first phone.

The boat had been providing a sense of safety I’d quickly gotten used to, so I walked with carefree ease through the passageways. The mental security likely came from the defined physical space and the fact that no new passengers had come on board or gone ashore since we left Los Angeles. Whatever the reason, I would definitely miss it when we arrived in Hawaii. My mind rarely found a safe haven from anxious thoughts, bitter memories, or guilt-laden recriminations. For a person like me, the biggest pitfall of spending too much time with her own thoughts often were those very thoughts themselves.

“There you are,” he said, sitting up from where he lounged against the headboard, tapping away on his laptop. I didn’t miss the way his shirtless torso and trim waist looked in the track pants slung low around his hips. Nope. Not one single inch.

“Here I am,” I responded in the same bright tone, darting my eyes around the room. Looking anywhere but back at his graceful body and effortless gorgeousness.

“I was trying to get hold of you.”

“I got your texts. I was giving the kitty boy some attention. I think he must be lonely, because he poured on the guilt after I fed him.” I rolled my eyes heavenward at my next admission. “I was putty in his paws after that.”

Grant studied me while I spoke, and damn if I didn’t fall right into the lure of his deep blue eyes. Somehow, he managed to look even better now that he had some color on his skin. The sun-kissed bronze tone set off his blond hair and the mischievous smirk that always made my panties damp.

“So, what did you need to talk about?” I asked.

“I got a phone call from Bas.”

His face remained utterly impassive when he delivered the news, and I guessed he must have practiced saying the sentence a few times to do so without emotion. I couldn’t miss the way his jaw pulsed at the joint, though, as he clenched it shut, or the way both fists were balled in the bedspread, either.

“Don’t look so giddy about it there, chief,” I teased, trying to thin some of the heavy air that settled over the room like a June morning fog. If just mentioning the almighty Shark’s name was having this sort of effect on him, I was dreading the rest of the conversation before we even had it.

“I didn’t actually speak to him. He left a voice mail.” Grant closed his laptop and stood, captivating me as he always did with the graceful way he moved. “We must have been out of range when he called,” he finally said, refocusing my attention.

The grin that took over my face was a wicked one. I knew it as sure as I knew the sun would set in the west. But I also knew I did nothing to stop it from spreading once it started. The bite in my tone matched accordingly. “Well, I’m sure that pissed him off. He called to say jump, and you weren’t immediately available to ask how high.”

“That’s not how our relation—”

“Really?” I cut him off. “Come on, big guy. Do you really not see how that man runs you around town to do his bidding?”