Page 34 of My Grape Crush
“And I called you a heartbreaker,” she adds, biting her lip in a way that distracts me. “Which implies you're a womanizing shit, when I really know nothing about you.”
Much to the chagrin of every female who has tried to worm their way into my life, Rhys the player is the furthest thing from the truth. But I don’t miss the opportunity to steer this conversation to where I think it needs to go.
“Did someone break your heart recently?” I ask.
Her eyes flick to the raft with a little wrinkle forming between her brows, and am I too rapt, waiting for thatyes?
“It happens to everyone, right?”
“True,” I admit. “But it still sucks.”
We regard each other openly, and I fight the urge to fill the silence. At one point yesterday, before things got crazy, Dani said she started following my Insta in June once she learned Evelyn had hired me. That alone ramped up my interest in her.
A beauty like her who is not a built-in Crazy?
What are the odds?
“What about you?” she asks. “Any recent calamities of the heart?”
Myla qualifies as a calamity, but not in the way Dani implies. And no way in hell am I bringing the topic of her up. “I’m too busy for heartbreak.”
Dani stays silent, but I can feel her sizing me up. Maybe she’s wondering how someone like me could be single. Whatever the case, we sink into the quiet connection of the moment, watching the sun’s final rays dance on the rippling surface of the lake. The half-bright moon climbs above the willow trees scattered along the shore, and a breeze kicks in, carrying a sweet fragrance that hits high in the nose.
Dani glances my way, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
We are perfectly isolated out here.
Am I reading her right? Is this my time to bust a move?
The answer comes in the form of a rogue gust of wind. The force of it churns the lake, the raft surging beneath us, canting to one side. We pitch forward, gripping the nearest things to steady ourselves, which happens to be each other.
“Whoa!” Dani yelps, reeling, unsteady on her feet.
I hold her tight to ride out the upheaval, me with a newfound appreciation for all things immaculate timing. Because when the raft levels out, Dani and I remain close.
Touching.
“I swear I didn’t plan that,” I say, battling the temptation to let my hands wander beyond their resting place on her waist.
She looks up at me from under her fringe of wet, dark lashes. Eyes soft as a whisper.
“You’re warm,” she murmurs.
“Is now the time for a lame hot-blooded male joke?”
After a low, sexy laugh, she asks, “Is that all you got?”
I feel a fizzy sort of scrambling in my brain. I’ve heard of chemistry and felt a lick of it here and there, but never like this: middle-earth and elemental. Dangerous as the dusk contouring her beautiful face.
Awareness hums between our damp bodies.
And those damn roaming fingers of hers make it impossible to stay casual and in control.I don’t think she knows how much she’s affecting me.
“If you’re trying to turn me off you,” I say, my voice thick, “you’re doing a spectacularly bad job.”
For five long seconds, it’s just us and the weight of everything unspoken while the undulating water creates this dream-like sensation. My skin, every part of me, tingles with desire. I think I know what’s about to happen, and I’m shaking ever so slightly when I draw her closer. But right before our mouths connect for that first, forbidden time, she twists her face away.
“I don’t think kissing me is a good idea,” she says, a high note in her voice that wasn’t there before.
