Page 60 of Worth the Fight

“You always were sexy when you were pissed at me,” he murmurs, eyes alive and charisma in full force. Compliments won’t win him points, either.

“And you always tried to charm me when you did something wrong. Too bad charming me—or wining and dining me—won’t work this time.”

I think of Grady last night. The anger. The tension. The kiss that knocked me off my feet and landed me on my back in his bed.

Such a total contrast to the man sitting across from me, and it’s so much more noticeable than before. Almost as if being with someone else has woken me so I can see clearly.

He finally plays the chords. I sing the newest lines I’m trying out.

“I was yours to lose.

You tested the waters.

I tested her lips.

And then your claim on me began to slip.”

Jett groans. “You’re making him sound like a pussy.”

“A pussy?” I ask with a laugh, slightly offended. “How about you write your own damn songs then?”

Jett stands and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I think we need to skip this one and move to the next,” he says.

“How about you go back and leave me here to finish them. I was working fine by myself before you came.”

His eyes flash over to mine, and there’s surprise in them. “We always worked best when we were together.”

“Apparently, not anymore.”

“Dyl—”

“Good afternoon,” Grady interrupts as he waltzes into the family room in the all-blue pants and shirt that make up the Class A’s uniform he wears at the station and heads straight toward me as if Jett isn’t even in the room. Grady flashes me an unabashed grin, telling me he knows exactly what game he’s playing, before he frames my cheeks and levels me with a kiss to rival all kisses.

For a moment after his lips meet mine, I forget this is pretend. I forget that Grady is putting on a show for Jett and that last night was something that now feels like a hasty yet equally pleasurable lapse in judgment since neither of us has addressed it yet.

And even with all that, I still sink into the kiss and deflate when his lips leave mine.

I was wrong. Dead wrong. It’s impossible to separate sex and emotions. Not when a man kisses like that and looks at you as if he can’t wait to do it again.

“I’m in the room,” Jett says, annoyance singing in his voice.

“But you’re in my room, so . . .” Grady shrugs and pats me on the ass as he makes his way to the kitchen. “Everything okay? Things feel a bit tense between you two.”

He walks to the fridge, pulls out a water, and leans against the appliance as he looks from me to Jett and then back to me.

I stare at him for a moment, so clean cut and preppy compared to Jett’s all black clothes and colorful tattoos. Such a contrast, and yet it’s Grady who makes my breath catch when it used to be Jett.

“Just peachy,” Jett says and gives Grady a condescending smirk as their dislike for each other manifests in their expressions.

“You have a good time in . . . Napa, was it?”

Jett nods as he narrows his eyes and studies Grady, trying to figure out where he’s going with this line of questioning.

Grady part laughs, part says, “Good,” as he makes his way back toward me and wraps an arm around my waist, his hand possessive on my side. “Because we sure had a good time, didn’t we, babe?” He smirks at me with so much suggestion that my panties might possibly catch fire.

Grady’s being such a cocky bastard, and I’m enjoying every single moment of it.

“Dylan was telling me you’re up to speed on what you came here to accomplish. Should I assume you’ll be leaving us soon? Three’s a crowd and all.”