“Babe, I’m so sorry, but I have to take this.” He glared at the phone, hesitating. “No, I’m sorry. You’re more important. What did you want to talk to me about?”
His phone quit ringing, but started right back up again. She could see him fighting it, but even if he ignored it, his attention was already diverted.
“Later. It’s fine.” She offered a weak smile and shrugged, backing out of the room.
A wave of relief smoothed the tension from his body, and he answered the phone.
Making her way back to the blue suite, Claire crashed on the sofa and pulled out her phone. She opened her contacts and hovered over her mother’s number.
Nope. That conversation was... too premature. What if this creepy house had ears?
Instead, she pulled up details on Ahab’s. The website required that she confirm her age over twenty-one, then took her to a quirky page filled with cartoony sailors overlying pictures of people laughing over drinks in a tavern atmosphere. Okay, nothing fancy. Thank goodness.
Claire flipped open her suitcase and pulled out a pair of distressed jeans and a casual white button-up. Realizing she hadn’t gone out in months, she found her mascara was pretty near dried out, but she made it work, adding a subtle sweep of eyeliner. No point in lipstick, as she knew she’d chew it off anyway.
And then she curled up with a book.
And played Solitaire on her phone.
Then charged her phone while she touched up her makeup and tried on all her sweaters one by one, then had to straighten her hair thanks to the frizz after trying on the sweaters, landing back on the button-up, but this time she rolled the sleeves up.
Finally, a knock at the door. Leaping off the sofa, then slowing her pace so she didn’t look as lonely-desperate as she felt, she eased open the door.
Fresh in athletic-fit faded jeans and a simple Black Op Brewing Company t-shirt that hugged every drool-worthy line on the man, Grady stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. He scuffed his hiking boot on the floor before making eye contact. “Ready?” he asked.
“Sure. Um, have you seen Ryder?”
He shook his head. “I figured he was with you.”
Fury tensing through her spine, Claire brushed past him and down the hall to Ryder’s makeshift office. She could hear his frustrated tone as she neared the library.
She popped her head in and found him pacing and rubbing his hand over his face. He caught sight of her, Grady appearing behind her seconds later. Hand covering the receiver, Ryder whispered, “This isn’t going great. Grady, would you mind if Claire rode over with you and I’ll meet you guys there?”
Claire pasted on what she hoped was an understanding expression, but she might have overdone the smile. She clicked the door closed behind her, turned and crashed smack-dab into Grady.
Unflinching, he caught her, his hands gripped her waist to steady them both. Eyes wide, she could have caught her breath from the crash, but couldn’t seem to re-center when his hands were on her.
He froze, looking down, as if equally moved by the connection that could quickly, easily, and lustily turn into—as the Brits called it, or so she learned on TV—a snog.
Heart thundering in her chest, Claire wanted to move in. Wanted to trace the angle of his jaw and indulge in that kiss that almost happened this morning.
Like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Grady jerked away and stared at his hands, as if they were completely foreign.
“Sorry,” Claire murmured.
“Yeah, um...” Grady stepped back. “Ready to go?”
She nodded stupidly.
“Okay. I’ll just, um, meet you by the front door in five?”
Again, her head bobbled like she was a complete ninny. She didn’t even know what a ninny was, exactly, but it sounded neither attractive nor worldly.
Decked out in her new favorite boots, plus a scarf that matched her new coat, she trotted down the stairs. Patiently waiting by the front door, Grady stood with his hands in his pockets. Not playing with his phone or calling or texting or tapping his foot. Just waiting.
Despite her better judgment, Claire approached and stopped just out of arm’s reach, knowing better than to exist within touching distance. She really, really needed to have that chat with Ryder.
“Ready?” he asked.
