Page 29 of Grant’s Blaze

“Rio—”

“Oh, yes indeedy. Don’t everybody drop your jaws at once. Fragile, psychotic little me.” I thumped on my chest with both palms. “I can make oatmeal.”

“Rio. Damn it! You’re getting it all wrong.”

The new adamancy in his voice impacted me like a double-edged sword. It was a tone I’d never heard from this normally strong, virile man. It was the sound of complete and utter defeat.

And it nearly broke me.

“Wow, imagine that. Me, getting it all wrong,” I rasped.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Really? Because your stare is saying a whole bunch differently. You’re not going to set me off, Grant. I’m not that broken. I’m doing so much better since I’ve gotten back. I know it went really sideways for us—and for you in ways I don’t even understand. But that trip you stole me away on? It did what you hoped. It helped me pull my shit together. I mean, I’m not saying I’m magically all fixed now. Yes, I still have shit to work through, but I’m not ready to light your building on fire because you’ve been lying to me all day.”

His gaze bugged wider—until it didn’t. He started leaning forward but clearly reconsidered at the last second. “Goddammit. Listen to me. I haven’t been—”

I held up both hands, palms out. “Cut the bullshit, Twombley. At least show me that respect, okay? You just need cut the bullshit at this point.”

He surged to his feet in anger but then plopped right back down. “Fuck!” He rubbed his forehead while dropping his head back again. Finally he muttered, “I’m trying to spare you from the fucking nightmares, Rio. Why won’t you just let it go?”

Deciding it’d be wisest not to answer, I did the rising on behalf of us both. Still without a word, I went into the kitchen and found some bowls in the cabinet. By the time I found a spoon, the microwave sounded. I wrapped a dish towel around the hot bowl and then prepared the instant oatmeal.

“Well, it’s not my carbonara you love so much, but it will have to do until we can get some groceries. Please sit up so you can eat.” I was careful to make my voice as businesslike as my stance as I went to stand beside the sofa.

“Thank you, baby,” Grant mumbled. “Will you sit here with me, please? I’m really sorry that I upset you. Once I have some food in me, I’ll be more myself.”

By the look on his face, he and I might have both been thinking the same thing after he made that comment.

This man might never be himself again.

Chapter Seven

Grant

My head was spinning, and it wasn’t from being hungry. Well, my empty stomach was partly to blame, but that was just the half of it. Judging by the skeptical frown on my woman’s face, she knew it too.

My woman.

A stupid schoolboy grin spread across my face. I already knew she would grill me about that too—and I couldn’t wait.

“All right. What’s that smile about, Mr. Twombley?”

I quirked my lips. Did I know this girl or what?

“I was thinking about how I’d rather be eating your pussy than this oatmeal right now.”

Her expressive, whiskey-colored eyes went totally wide before a glassy sheen washed across them like a filter applied to a digital image. Only the sight of her here, so close and clear, was so much better. That much more mesmerizing. I couldn’t tear my eyes off her.

“Ooohhh.” She dragged the word out across a few beats. “You’re just too smooth for your own good, Tree. You’ve been hanging around Elijah Banks too long. And that man’s not good for anyone around here. That I can say with certainty.”

I tsked. “Elijah is a good man. He’s been my best—”

Rio held up her hand, palm flat toward my face. “Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. He’s had your back through thick and thin. Blah blah bl—”

Quicker than she could track, I tossed my empty oatmeal bowl onto the coffee table in front of us. As the spoon clattered around in the stoneware, I thought about backing down from this confrontation—which I was probably way too tired to tackle right now—but I obeyed my strange instincts and surged forward anyway.

At once, I covered her small body with my much larger one. The furniture’s soft cushions gave way beneath our combined weight, but that was only half of what grabbed my irritation and started turning it into something else altogether. Something that flowed deeper in my veins as I fit my lips to the hollow below her ear.