5
I-M-P-A-L-E-D
“Unnecessary roughness? Are you kidding?” Bill’s raspy voice echoed down the hall.
Claire heard the expletives pouring out of the entertainment room from the top of the stairs off the kitchen. She’d only gotten lost a few times in her search for football and an escape from pretension. Straight after dinner, Ryder went upstairs to “wrap up the meeting” from earlier. She had no idea what that meant, but she wasn’t surprised. She’d tossed her sweater in their bedroom before heading downstairs for the game. Not wanting to risk another fiery blush at her proximity to Grady, she opted for the lighter weight white cotton t-shirt.
From the arched doorway to the entertainment room, Claire took in the scene. It was quite a setup. A pair of overstuffed black leather sofas faced each other around a large, tiled coffee table, and two plush recliners were aimed at the TV screen. Bill looked like a king on his throne, his feet up and empty beer glass clutched tight in his hand as he stretched out on a recliner. Opposite the entrance, a slick bar with a variety of liquors and fancy snacks stepped up the man-cave aspect. Between her and the bar, behind the recliners, there was a billiard table with the cues and balls prearranged for play whenever the mood may strike. Plank walnut lined the floors and walls, with forest green accents on the lights and décor.
She paused when she allowed her gaze to land on Grady before anyone realized she was here. His arms were in the air as he swore at the referees through the screen. That hair seemed to be eternally unruly, and now it was downright wild.
At the commercial break, Bill turned and saw Claire hesitating in the doorway. “Come on in, girlie. Ryder’s not a football fan, but hopefully he’s brought someone home who enjoys the finer things in life?” He chuckled merrily as he gestured to the sitting area. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be the sexist sort to hang aNo Girls Allowedsign on entering the man-cave. Her brothers had tried that once.Once.
Grateful for the welcome, Claire took a few steps into the room. “I’d love to join you. I’m more of an Arizona fan, but I’ll settle for the Seahawks, since the Fire knocked us out of the playoffs.”
Grady hopped up from the couch and foolishly attempted to flatten his hair before giving up and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Can I get you a beer?” he offered, making his way to the bar.
“Top me off?” Bill asked as he held his empty glass in the air. “We’re big Fire fans too, so you’re in poor company. Grady, you ever talk to Finn anymore? I know your mother made it clear she’s got something against him—lord knows why, but he’s a hell of a player.”
“Not in a while.”
Claire walked over to Bill and took his glass. “I can get it.”
Grady moved with the elegance of his mother, but in a masculine way. Smoother, like he could finesse his way through anything. He took Bill’s glass from her hand and motioned to the barstools for her to sit while he fixed their drinks. “You’re on vacation, I’ll get it. What’s your poison?”
With the ease of a seasoned bartender, although she doubted that he’d worked his way through school as she had, he filled Bill’s glass from a built-in tap and made a quick delivery while she looked at the options behind the bar. They must entertain a lot. Hopefully they didn’t drink these alone.
“I’ll try that IPA.”
“Excellent choice.” He carefully poured the glass and passed it down the bar to her.
Still seated on her stool, she took a sip and turned toward him. “This is good. Is it local?”
He rested his palms on the bar in front of her, and she could feel the heat radiating off him as if he were inches away, rather than the maximum distance the bar would allow. Her eyes locked onto his corded arms. That spectacular muscle tone that took more than just a few days a week at the gym, working arms that didn’t take to idleness. Not the arms she’d expect for the lawyer-son of a wealthy family. She almost drooled, but luckily, she was able to manage her secretions.
“As local as it gets. I, uh, I’m co-owner of a craft brewery. This one’s pretty hoppy.”
“I like a beer that bites me back.” She grinned over the mouth of the glass at him.
