by Sophie Swift
Look busy, I tell myself.
And then I remind myself that I am busy. I have to get this recipe right before we open tonight.
I top off the measuring cup with more wine, raising it back up to my eye so that I can see if the liquid is exactly at the two cup mark.
I expect him to say something. Something to the effect of why he’s here. Maybe he’s looking for Alex, although if he is, he clearly doesn’t know her very well. This is the last place my sister would be.
But after thirty seconds of tenacious silence, I look up to see he’s leaning against the walk-in refrigerator, his arms crossed over his chest, just...watching me. And not in a creepy way. In that annoyingly charming Grayson way. With his head cocked to the side and his lips curved in an adorable lopsided smile.
He looks so appetizing right now, I’d just as soon pour him over some pasta instead of this sauce I’m attempting to make.
Damn him.
“What?” I say, trying to sound exasperated. Like I don’t have time for whatever game this is.
But who the fuck am I kidding?
I always have time for Grayson Walker.
I pour the wine in and stir methodically, counting my strokes in a whisper.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his mouth tugging into a tight smirk, as though he’s trying to keep from laughing.
I snort. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m cooking.”
“That’s not cooking.”
I stop stirring. I lost count anyway. “Excuse me?”
Grayson pushes himself off the walk-in and takes a few steps toward me. I can feel it already. The magnetism. His essence reaching out like a lasso, roping around my waist, pulling me toward him.
I push my toes into the floor, wishing I could grow roots and just plant myself in the tiles.
Stay calm.
“I said…” Grayson reaches me and takes the spoon from my hand. Our knuckles graze. I try not to crumple into a heap on the floor. “…That’s not cooking.”
He taps the spoon twice on the edge of the pot and rests it on the counter.
“Do you need help?” he asks.
I need a lot of help.
But I keep up my facade. It’s everything I can do to remain upright. I plant my hands on my hips and let out a huffed sigh. “No, I don’t need help. I need you to get out of my kitchen so I can finish this sauce before the restaurant opens in two hours. Besides, what would you know about cooking? You’re an investment banker.”
I can tell that my comment offends him in some way; his expression shifts and he goes quiet. I immediately wonder if I should apologize.
For what, though?
He’s the one who came in here and started insulting me.
Grayson eyes the printed recipe that’s laid out on the countertop. “What is this about?” he asks, as though he’s asking me to summarize The Great Gatsby for tenth-grade English.
“It’s about pasta sauce?” I say, my voice rising in a mock question.
He shakes his head. “No, I mean this.” He spreads his arms wide, gesturing now to the entire restaurant. “Alex says you’re obsessed with this place.”
That stings.
It’s bad enough that Alex talks to him about me. It’s a million times worse that she says things like that.
But then, really, why am I surprised? That sounds exactly like something Alex would say.
The mention of her name seems to make Grayson uneasy as well. He looks like he wishes he could suck the words right back into his mouth.
“I mean,” he struggles, “Why is it so important to you to save this place? Is owning a restaurant your dream? I thought you wanted to be a graphic novelist.” He reaches out and taps the side of my left hand, indicating the black ink stain on my skin. “You obviously still have a passion for drawing.”
“What’s it to you?” I snap, ripping my hand away. And now it’s my turn to wish I could take it back.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at his feet. “Sorry. I guess it is none of my business.”
I really don’t know why I’m getting so worked up. It’s like everything out of his mouth is setting me on edge. It never used to be like that. I used to hang on Grayson’s every word. I used to wait with bated breath for his next syllable.
And now I’m snapping at him like a spoiled piranha.
“I-I-I,” I stammer, “I guess I just want to make sure everything is still here. Just the way she left it. You know, in case she decides to come back.”
Grayson nods like he understands but I’m not even sure I understand what I’m saying.
“You think your mom will change her mind,” he confirms.
I shrug and pick up the spoon, dunking it back into the half-cooked sauce. Grayson leans against the counter and watches me.
“I don’t know.”
“Alex is pretty convinced she’s gone for good,” he comments. I assume he thinks this is supposed to help somehow. Like he’s offering me a way out. But it only makes my grip around the spoon tighten.
“I guess that’s the difference between Alex and me.”
I turn my back to him and stir vigorously. Much more vigorously than I think I should.
And then from somewhere behind me, I hear his voice, soft and tentative. “That’s not the only difference.”
My stomach seizes. I swear if he can’t hear my labored breathing, then he must be able to see my shoulders rising and falling with each struggle to sip in air.
I want to spin around, bury my hands in his thick hair, and pull his mouth to mine. I want to savor his lips with my tongue, jump up and wrap my legs tight around his waist.
The plastic spoon in my hand snaps in two, the bottom half floating along the surface of the sauce while the other stays mercilessly gripped in my hand.
And then, “I think we should talk about last night.”
It’s Grayson’s voice. But also, somehow, it’s not. It’s like some strange, rough, scratchy version of his regular smooth Southern-dipped cadence.
I don’t turn around. Even though I have to get another spoon, I can’t look at him. I can’t be pulled into that black hole of a gaze again.
So I just watch the reddish liquid in the pot start to bubble and pop and fizz.
I open my mouth to speak, forcing the words out. But it’s like trying to blow bubbles through a pinhole. “There’s nothing to talk about, Grayson.”
There’s a long, excruciating pause and then I hear the floor creak. I know he’s taking a step toward me. I feel it in my bones. I feel it in every atom in every cell in my body.
My legs stiffens as the warm air from his mouth hits the back of my neck.
Then, his fingertips softly graze the skin just behind my ear, brushing away the wispy stray hairs that couldn’t be coerced into my ponytail. A million tiny pinpricks cover my body. Like a million scalding hot tongues.
I close my eyes and lean back slightly.
He flattens his hand, opening it for me, welcoming me into it. It starts to cup around my neck and I feel as though I could just fall.
Disappear.
Plummet toward the earth and he would catch me in the palm of his hand.
Then he’s leaning forward, bringing his mouth to my cheekbone.
“Lia.” It’s more like a sigh than a name. Actually, it’s more like a prayer.
The beep of the back door makes us both jump. I leap forward, he leaps back, and in an instant there is a world between us again. A galaxy.
I turn back to the sauce, pretending to stir it with the broken spoon.
“There you are,” Alex’s voice sings as her heels click-clack across the tile floor. “My dad said he dropped you off in town to do errands but you weren’t answering your phone.”
Grayson fumbles for his pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice his hands are trembling. I hope Alex isn’t as perceptive.
He pulls out his phone, stuttering a laugh. “Sorry. I silenced it on the course. I gu
ess I forgot to turn it back on.”
Alex peers around the kitchen and her eyes land on me. For a moment, I swear I see a splash of mistrust, but it’s gone too quickly to be sure. “What are you doing here?” she asks. Thankfully, her inflection holds more confusion than accusation.
Grayson shrugs. “I...um...”
Oh, God, please think of something, I silently beg him.
“I saw Lia’s car and I figured you must be here.”
I’m pleasantly surprised by his answer. It was smooth. And just flattering enough to lure Alex away from any scent of suspicion.
“How did the dress shopping go?” he asks.
Alex clacks over to Grayson and collapses dramatically into him. He wraps his arms around her, eyeing me over her shoulder. I keep my gaze locked on the sauce pot and the jagged half-utensil that’s bobbing in the center.
I really need to get another spoon.
“Horrible,” Alex laments. “It was a huge mistake to try to find anything decent outside of Manhattan. I’m just going to have to go shopping with Amy in the city.”
“Good idea,” Grayson says.
Then Alex presses her lips firmly against his. I don’t want to look. I try not to. I will every muscle in my body to just turn the other way.
But every muscle disobeys me.
Grayson’s eyes are closed, his lips are barely parted. I can see Alex’s tongue pushing its way into his mouth. She tangles her hands in his hair and presses herself into him, moaning slightly.
Thank God Grayson pulls away. But it takes effort. Alex tries to hold him captive with her hand on the back of his head.
Grayson lets out a chuckle that sounds like a bird being strangled as he wipes the corner of his mouth and dodges another one of her advances. “Alex,” he says, sounding light and playful. “Not in front of your sister.”
Alex shoots me a dismissive glance and shrugs. “She’s seen worse.”
Yeah, like I need to be reminded.
But fortunately, she doesn’t go in for round two. She lightly slaps Grayson on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get out of here and grab some dinner. This place depresses me.”
I watch the fight on Grayson’s face.
He hides it terribly.
I offer him a smile, letting him know it’s okay. I’d rather her not be here, anyway.
“Yeah!” I say, trying to sound bubbly. “You two should go. Have a nice romantic dinner somewhere.”
Grayson’s expression darkens as his lips press together in a hard line.
“Ooh!” Alex exclaims, tugging on his arm. “We should all go out for a drink tonight. Lia, what time do you get off?”
“We close at ten.”
“Perf,” she says. “Meet us at Hank’s after?”
At the mention of the bar where Grayson rescued me the other night, I dart a glance in his direction. I didn’t expect to lock eyes with him, and, by the looks of it, he didn’t expect it either.
I fake a groan. “Oh, Alex, that place is tired. Let’s go somewhere else.”
But she brushes this away. “Don’t be ridiculous. Hank’s is a classic. It never goes out of style. Besides, I haven’t been there in years!”
I relent, knowing it’s not worth the fight. “Okay,” I agree, “Hank’s it is. See you there.”
Alex digs her hand deep into the back pocket of Grayson’s shorts as they make their way to the back door.
As soon as the door beeps closed behind them, I walk across the kitchen to the dishwashing area and grab a clean spoon from the rack.
Thank God Alex insists on driving. I don’t think I can be trusted behind the wheel right now. Every inch of my body is humming like I’ve been holding onto a jackhammer for too long.
How does Lia do that to me?
How does just the sound of my name on her lips render me completely useless.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Grayson.”
Jesus. I nearly crumbled to ash.
I couldn’t not reach out to her. I couldn’t not touch her. And then once I was touching her—once my skin was ablaze with her heat—I couldn’t stop.
If Alex hadn’t walked in when she did, I don’t know what would have happened. Actually, I do know. I would have slipped. Again. I would have fallen into her irresistible gravity. Again.
This can’t go on.
For whatever reason, I clearly cannot be alone with Lia Smart. Ever again.
We’re not supposed to go home until tomorrow night but I won’t last another day. When we get back to the house tonight, I’ll tell Alex I have to return to the city first thing in the morning. I’ll say something came up at work. She’ll be mad but that’s the least of my problems. I can’t stay here any longer. I can’t be trusted to stay here any longer.
After dinner, Alex drives us to Hank’s Bar and my eyes immediately scan the small room for any sign of the guy I punched in the face the night before. The last thing I need is to get into a bar fight. Thankfully, the scum bucket seems to have taken the night off.
Alex settles us into a booth in the corner and orders a round of beers. I sip mine in silence, keeping one eye on the door. My pulse races, roaring in my ears. My hands are sweating profusely and I have to keep wiping them on my shorts.
Alex cozies up to me, resting her head on my shoulder and I absent-mindedly kiss the top of her head.
Act natural, I command myself.
If you can just get through one more night, this will all be over.
I can return to the city. To my normal life. To food delivery and late nights at the office. Maybe then I can finally get some time to think and figure out what the hell is going on with me. Because it’s not like I can spend the rest of my life avoiding my fiancée’s sister. Especially when she lives a two-hour train ride away.
I hear the door of Hank’s open and I quietly suck in a breath as I see Lia’s face appear in the doorway. My eyes trail across her slender neck and narrow shoulders, down her adorable polka-dotted sundress. But my heart suddenly plummets into my stomach when I see she didn’t come alone. Her hand is intertwined with someone else’s.
A second later, a tall guy with surfer blond hair and a broad frame follows her into the bar. I recognize him from Friday night when Alex and I came to the restaurant. He’s the bartender at La Bella Vita.
Well, isn’t that fitting?
Lia spots us in the corner and waves with her free hand. She leads Blake to the booth and slides in after him, practically climbing into his lap.
Alex looks equally surprised. But at least she is at liberty to show it.
“What’s this?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows at Lia and then at Blake.
Lia shrugs. “I brought a date.” Then she looks pointedly at me as she adds, “I didn’t think you would mind.”
Alex shrugs and takes a sip of her beer. “I never object to adding cute guys to the equation.”
Blake winks playfully back at her before turning to Lia. “So, what are you drinking?”
But Lia is already on her feet. “You serve drinks all day. This one’s on me. What do you want?”
Blake flashes me a comrade smile. “She’s gorgeous and she pays. Lucky me!”
I have the sudden uncontrollable urge to punch him in the face.
He turns back to Lia. “I’ll take a Jack and Coke. Thanks.”
Alex slides out of our side. “I’ll get us another round.”
And then, just like that, I’m alone with him. And I have to remind myself to take deep, even breaths.
Blake’s fingers drum the table. “So, how’s your trip to Eastbrook been?”
So we’re really going to do this. Make the awkward small talk. Although to be fair, I doubt it’s awkward for him. And I’d do well to remember that.
I finish off my beer. “Good. Good. Can’t complain. Can’t complain.”
“Good to hear. Good to hear.”
What is this? The repeat game?
“So,” I say, trying to infuse a chill, Zen
-like quality into my voice. “You and Lia? I didn’t know you were a...you were...”
“Me neither, dude,” Blake says, his smile growing. “I mean, I’ve been asking her out for months but she’s always said no and then suddenly tonight, out of the blue, she asks me if I want to get drinks. I guess it’s true what they say, good things come to those who wait.”
Did he seriously just wiggle his eyebrows at me?
This guy is getting on my last nerve.
I reach for my empty beer and begin peeling the label from the bottle. Just to give my fingers something to do. You know, in place of gouging his eyes out.
“I mean,” he goes on, “the girl is smokin’, isn’t she?”
I dig my nails into the corner of the label. “I haven’t really noticed.”
Blake slams his hand down on the table, startling me. “Bullshit! How could you not notice? I mean, I know you’re with Alex and all but...damn. That’s all I gotta say.”
Somehow I doubt that’s all he has to say.
“When she hired me to work at the restaurant,” he continues, “after that whole thing with her mom, I was like, whoa, I hope a weakness for bartenders runs in the family, you know what I mean?”
That’s it.
My fists curl into tight balls, my teeth bared. I’m just about to launch out of my seat, reach out and grab this little prick by the shirt collar and slam his head into the table, when Lia bounces up, drinks in hand, stopping my movement dead in its tracks.
She glances uneasily between us. She can tell something is wrong. “What are you guys talking about?”
Blake, on the other hand, is oblivious.
Douche.
“About you, of course,” he says, rising and taking his drink from her. He leans in and plants a kiss on her neck. She giggles in response and I feel my blood turn ice-cold.
Lia ducks back into the booth, her eyes catching mine on the way down. I can’t completely read her expression, but I’m almost certain it’s saying, “How do you like it?”
I bite down hard on my tongue.
Alex returns a moment later with our beers, and I guzzle half of mine in a matter of seconds.
God, what’s gotten into me? I barely even recognize myself right now.
Normally, I’m not a violent person at all. Normally, I’m the chill guy. The easy-going Grayson that never gets riled up. That never loses his cool. But in the forty-eight hours I’ve been around Lia, I’ve almost gotten into two bar fights. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be in a jail cell by the end of the weekend.