Page 50 of Endeavor
“I’m glad you like it,” he says as he takes the seat next to me. Vera sets out his plate.
“There’s more in that dish over there. I have to be going. If you all wouldn’t mind putting your dishes in the sink, I’ll clean them up in the morning. Have a wonderful evening,” she says and slinks away before either of us can manage any more than an “OK.”
“I’ll give it to your mother, she definitely is crafty with her covert setup operation,” I say as I continue eating.
He shakes his head. “Sorry about that. She means well.”
I sigh. “I’m sure she does.”
We finish eating in silence, the sun slowly setting as we do. From our seats, we can see out past the deck and patio to the ocean. I notice that Vera has left the gas fire pit on along with the twinkle lights. Blythe really worked hard on this subterfuge.
I stand and start to grab my plate, but Grady swoops in and takes it, placing them both in the sink before rolling up his sleeves and handwashing them. It’s then that I hear the extremely faint sound of the dishwasher. I stand, leaning on the bar, and watch him. It’s unfair how hot he looks, his muscles rippling as he washes.
“I’m going to enjoy the fire pit,” I announce, grabbing my glass and heading outside. I refill it and meander over to the oversized outdoor chairs in front of the fire. I sit down, pulling a blanket over me.
Grady comes out to join me a moment later.
“I never get tired of this view,” he confesses.
“I can see why. It’s lovely here.”
“It is.”
I lean back in the chair. As pissed off as I am, there’s also something comforting about Grady. Being with him seems so, natural. Like sitting with someone I’ve known my whole life.
I curse myself for even thinking this. He was a complete and total asshole to me this week. I’m so over guys being assholes. Yet, as I’m thinking this, his knee brushes against my thigh and all my nerve endings light up like a Christmas tree. Curse you, body, and your responses to hot men.
Grady
I don’t know whether to yell at my mother or hug her. I don’t know if it’s her, or Max’s pep talk, or my own second-guessing, but suddenly, I want to fix things. I want to tell Emma everything I said a few days ago was a horrible mistake.
I turn to her.
“I’m sorry. I…God, I was an idiot. I…shouldn’t have said what I said. I was trying to protect you, but instead, I just ended up hurting you, and for that, I won’t ever forgive myself.”
She turns toward me, her eyes widening with each word I’ve said. “But why?”
I take a deep breath and tell her everything. I tell her about the note. I tell her about my past stalker. I tell her about the photo of us. I lay it all out. She’s silent as I speak, and when I finish, she doesn’t say a word.
I don’t even realize that I’m holding my breath until her lips part.
“Why, for the love of God, did you not just tell me all that? Why the whole, 'I can’t do this' theatrics?”
I lean forward. “I don’t know. I…I just wanted to protect you and I didn’t know how to do that without letting you go.” She gives me a pointed look. “I know. Now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds completely insane and stupid.”
And for the first time tonight, she grins. “Yes, it does.” She smirks.
“So…am I forgiven for being a giant asshat?” I ask, my voice filled with hope that I didn’t even know I was feeling until this very second.
She leans back and crosses her arms. I feel like she’s a judge and I’m waiting for a verdict. Cocking her head to one side, she observes me with those amazing, beautiful eyes.
“I’m willing to give this…thing…one more shot, but”—she emphasizes the word “but”—“no more keeping secrets. No more acting like an asshat. And no more trying to protect me from hypothetical situations.” She raises an eyebrow and waits for me to respond.
“I can live with that,” I reply.
Before I can say anything else, she crawls over her chair and sits on my lap. My hands grip her thighs as our gazes lock.
“No more bullshit,” she says in a voice laced with desire. Her gaze drifts to my lips and I feel my cock start to spring to life.
