I wonder what kind of guys he’s into. My mind goes back to that night on the road when Shooter insisted Grady was attracted to me. I’ve spent time since then trying to see it for myself, but I just don’t. Sure, sometimes his stares linger a little longer than appropriate. And yes, he sometimes stumbles over his words when we’re talking, but Grady does that when he’s talking to almost everyone except Suzy. He can be a little awkward. That doesn’t mean he has a crush on me.
“You excited?” I ask, swallowing thickly and pushing those thoughts away.
“Eh.” He laughs. “It should be fun.”
“Where are y’all going?”
“Just the little Italian place in town.”
“What’s your type?” The question takes me by surprise, coming out fully without my permission, and based on the wayhis head snaps in my direction, I’d say it caught him off guard too.
“Uh…” Grady breathes out a nervous type of laugh. “I don’t know. Don’t really have one, I guess.”
“What’s this guy look like?”
Why do I care?
“No clue,” he replies. “Blind date, remember?”
“Oh, right.” I laugh to play off any weirdness. “Did you date a lot in college?”
It’s like these questions are flowing out of my mouth without any sort of interaction with my brain. I keep my eyes trained ahead on the road, but I can see him looking at me.
“Um, a little. Nothing serious.”
“Right, right. Hooking up can be fun.”
Hooking up can be fun? Where the fuck did that come from, Boone? When have you ever hooked up?
“Yeah, it can be,” he agrees, and suddenly, without my permission—apparently a theme right now—visions of him rolling around in the sheets with faceless men flash before my eyes. I’ve never given much thought to Grady and the guys he’s been with, but now it’s like my mind is flooded, and I really should change the subject. It’s weird that I’m thinking about this. Thinking about him like this.
I blame Shooter.
If he’d never put that little inkling in my mind that Grady had a crush on me, I never would’ve thought to look at him in that light. I’m straight…and still very much married to his sister. Even if we’re getting a divorce in less than a month, I shouldn’t be thinking about this.
“Boone,” Grady says, pulling me from my thoughts. The way he says my name makes me think this isn’t the first time he tried to get my attention.
“Yeah, sorry. What’s up? I zoned out.”
“You missed the exit.”
“Oh, shit. My bad.”
Taking the next exit and turning around, I get back onto the highway, making sure to take the correct one this time. We arrive home about fifteen minutes later. Suzy is still sleeping, and Grady offers to grab her out while I unlock the door and let Mabel outside. She’s conked out, not even stirring when he picks her up. Her head lolls onto his shoulder as he carries her with one arm under her knees, the other across her shoulders. His shirt has lifted in the process, revealing a few inches of his abdomen.
My eyes snag on the sight, noting the dark patch of hair trailing from the bottom of his navel down into his jeans. I rip my eyes away before he can catch me looking and think I’m a pervert. It just took me by surprise, is all. I’ve seen him in swim trunks before in the pool, and I don’t remember him having any chest hair. But then again, maybe I wasn’t close enough to see. Or maybe it’s new. He is only twenty-one.
Christ, why am I staring at my twenty-one-year-old brother-in-law’s happy trail? What the fuck is wrong with me?
Getting inside the house, I pull out my phone and shoot off a text message.
Me: I hate you.
The message shows as read right away and the bubble appears, letting me know he’s typing back.
Shooter: Well, hello to you, too. Pray tell, what did I do now?
Me: You and your fucking babble about Grady having a crush on me.
