One of his eyebrows arches with obnoxious grace.
“Well, that’s true,” he says, eyes lazily sweeping over me again. “But I’m not exactly complaining here darlin,’” His tongue runs over his bottom lip and my lungs forget how to do their job. “we haven'texactlyhad lengthy conversations about our families.”
“True.” I shift uncomfortably, the wet slippers becoming unbearable. “Our interactions have been... brief.”
His lips curve into that half-smile again. “But memorable.”
Heat rushes to my face. “We should probably not talk about that.”
“About what?” he asks, feigning innocence. “The yoga class? The Whisky Barrel? Or the part where you kissed me in the men’s room?”
“You kissed me,” I correct him.
“My memory says it was mutual.” He drawls with a wink. That thick southern accent somehow getting thicker.
“And for the record; I would never cheat, Mia. It’s not how I’m built.”
I open my mouth to say something, but Lily reappears, now dressed in jeans and a fitted T-shirt.
“Let's go rescue your belongings!” she says cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the tension between us. “Grant, go put on a shirt before you scare the wildlife and get the guest room ready.”
He rolls his eyes but steps back into the house. “Right, you sure you don’t need my help?”
“Nope” Lily pops the “p” as she hooks her arm into mine and starts leading me down the steps.
As Lily leads me down the drive, she leans in and says under her breath, “Just so you know, I’m his sister. In case that wasn’t clear through your nipple-induced panic.”
I let out a strangled laugh. “Thanks. I’ll add that to the long list of things I’ll lie awake replaying for the rest of my life.”
Chapter 15
Grant
I watch as Mia carefully place her laptop on the desk in the guest room, her movements precise and controlled. She's been silent since we started moving in her few belongings; the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife.
I still replay the moment I opened that front door like it’s my favorite rerun. Bang—there she was.
Mia.
Standing in front of me like a mirage. A dripping, fuming, absolutely seething mirage, granted, and for a split second, I genuinely thought I was hallucinating. Maybe I fell off Midnight and cracked my skull. Maybe I passed out from too many of Christian’s questionable protein shakes.
But nope—there she stood. The girl I’ve not been able to stop thinking about, right there in front of me.
That first jolt—pure disbelief—I was sure she’d skipped town already, vanished back to whatever glittery city life she came from, leaving me with nothing but the memory and the taste of her on my lips. The relief that hit me next? Violent. Like someone finally cracked my ribs open and let me breathe again.
And then came the third wave: pure, unfiltered lust.
Mia, turning up on my doorstep wearing nothing more than pink silky-ass pajamas, showing all the right curves, in all the right places, and bunny slippers for fuck’s sakes. Her hair damp fromthe humidity and sticking to her cheeks, cheeks flushed redder than the sunset. Absolutely fuming, her blue eyes spitting fire.
And all I could think is how stunning she looks when she’s mad.
She jabbed a finger at me, nearly poking me square in the pec. Not that I’d have minded at all.
Her arms crossed like she was trying to hold herself together—but all it really did was push her tits up to high heaven, and yup, not gonna lie, my eyes flicked down—just for a second,I swear—and when they landed on the way that clingy, thin top stretched across her chest, my mouth went dry.Bone dry. The kind of dry that not even a cold beer can fix.
I’ve ridden bulls less wild than the thoughts that jumped into my head in that moment.
But the cherry on top? The thing that really,reallydid it for me?
