Page 48 of Worth the Fight

“Yeah, but you know what I mean. It’s a big⁠—”

“You need anything, honey?” Grady asks as he walks onto the porch and presses a kiss to the top of my head. He leaves his lips there for a beat longer than the kiss lasts, and the warmth of his breath heating my scalp only serves to remind me of the heat of his body as he cuddled with me during the night.

Something neither of us discussed after meeting each other the way we did earlier. With him almost naked and me horny.

“What are you guys up to today?”

“Writing songs,” Jett says as if Grady’s a dumb shit. The muscle in Grady’s jaw pulses as he clenches back the smartass remark I can tell is on the tip of his tongue.

“Great idea. The sooner you get them done, the quicker you can head out. I’m sure you’re dying to get back home to all of your adoring fans. I mean, you’re so very generous to let them in your house and to sleep with you, too.”

The two men have a silent pissing match through visual warfare while I sit between them.

“Do you have something to say, Grady?” Jett pops his neck to the side as if he’s prepping for a fight.

“No, he doesn’t,” I interrupt, not wanting anything to happen between them because of me. The easier this is, the quicker the songs are done, and the sooner Jett leaves. Besides, I have enough bitterness for the lot of us.

“Yeah,” Grady steps forward, ignoring my comment. “What’s that saying? One man’s fuck-up is another man’s good fortune? Thanks for fucking up, Kroger.”

“I don’t have to put up with this shit.”

“You’re right. You don’t.” Grady’s fuck-you smile is in full effect. “There’s a Best Western down the street if you’d prefer to stay there shit-free.”

Jett shakes his head, starts to walk away then stops, and turns back around with a smarmy look on his face. “Tell me something, Grady,” Jett says as he narrows his eyes. “You two sure seemed to get cozy awfully quick. So much so I’m wondering if you weren’t stealing my girl before she broke things off with me.”

Oh. Shit.

Why didn’t I think of this before? Because I didn’t have to. Spending most of my days holed up writing had allowed me to fly under the radar in Sunnyville. No one had connected the dots with who I was and how I was associated with Jett. I’d been free.

How stupid could I have been?

I stare at Jett, wide-eyed and flat-footed, and just as I’m about to open my mouth and say something, anything, Grady steps in without skipping a beat.

“I’m a friend of Damon’s. Dyl and I had met several times before, flirted, kissed.” He shrugs as if it’s a fact. “But we were always in different places, different paths . . . so thanks to your fuck-up, now we’re right where we need to be.”

Grady completely disregards whatever reaction Jett gives next, lifts my mug from my hands, and takes a sip. He fights the grimace at my blacker than black coffee, which is a far cry from the sugar-and-creamer-loaded mess he normally drinks.

“What are your plans today?” I ask him.

“Gotta help my dad with a few things. Then maybe go shoot the shit with my brothers, have a few drinks. You’re welcome to come.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my lips, which throws me off guard. I know this is all for show, but damn, it doesn’t seem to matter how Grady kisses—a peck, a brush, tongue, all in—because he makes my stomach flutter each and every time.

Even though I know it’s fake.

Because it is fake.

Someone just needs to tell my body that.

And my heart.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

GRADY

“Why are you in such a sour-ass mood?”

My middle finger is up to Grayson and his comment before I turn to look his way.

“Because her ex is in town,” Grant fills in.