Page 91 of When We Had Forever
My mouth goes dry. I want to be surprised that he knows what I was doing, but I’m...not. “Sounds boring.”
“It wasn’t. It was riveting, actually.”
“Riveting?” I echo.
“Yeah. Your face. It was luminous.”
Luminous. My fingers dig into the chair arms. My god, this man is going to make me do something I’ll regret, using words like that. “How’d you find me?”
He chuckles. “This town is the size of a postage stamp. And Michael’s car doesn’t exactly blend in.”
“Right.” I clear my throat and look away, only to find the girls from earlier out on the sidewalk, peering in through the window.
Thank god. Something harmless to talk about. “Looks like you attracted an audience.”
Grayson twists around, waves at his admirers, and turns back. “Yeah, that happens sometimes.”
The girls flush and cover their mouths. One returns his wave, even though he’s not looking anymore.
“Does that bother you?” I tilt my head. I don’t know how I would feel about strangers habitually following me around.
“Not really.” He shrugs. “It’s usually innocent, even if they’re expecting someone different than who I actually am. I only get annoyed when people take pictures of me without asking. Or when women try to fix me—when they decide I’m some kind of problem that needs solving, and they’re the answer.”
I nod, recalling the photo of him cold-shouldering that model in the nightclub. Strangely, I understand that so much better after having met him. “You never know. Maybe someday one of themwillbe the answer.”
He crooks a half smile. “Maybe. But that one probably won’t give me the time of day.”
I snort. Delicately. “You know you could have any woman you want, right?”
He sets his empty cup down, the leather creaking. “Notanywoman,” he says, holding my eyes.
I turn that over, wondering if that’s part of the allure. I’m certainly no pushover, which might be why he finds me so intriguing. But I’m only so reticent because of losing Michael, which makes Grayson...what? A broken man who loves other broken things? Or a normal, red-blooded male who relishes a challenge? “Well, you could have the ones out on the sidewalk, at least.”
He scoffs. “They’re children. And I don’t just mean because of their age.”
I look again. The girls are fresh-faced, pretty, with the bright eyes of those life hasn’t yet managed to discourage. They have years and years of possibility ahead of them, and they know it.
He drums his fingers against his knee. “Can you really imagine me with someone like that? Actually try to picture it. I’ll wait.”
My attention drifts back to him, taking in the scars—both inner and outer—and the wry, pained twist of his mouth. The stains of a past that seem to cling to his skin.
“No,” I say. “You’re right. It’d be like pairing a tiger with a kitten. It’d only end up with something carnivorous happening.”
“Then there you go.” The bitter tilt of his lips relaxes. “And now that we’ve cleared that up, how about those cheeseburgers I promised?”
I chuff a laugh. My hand sneaks to my midsection, which still bulges from my lavish breakfast. Hours have passed, but my stomach has grown unaccustomed to such generosity, and I don’t have room for anything else just yet. “How about later? Tonight?”
“That’s perfect, actually. I have some work stuff to take care of, and I’d like to switch hotels, but I can come by around seven.”
“Great.” My tone comes out even, but underneath, my heartbeat accelerates. I almost tell him he can stay at the cabin. Almost. But the invitation gets stuck just south of my Adam’s apple.
“I’ll see you later.” Grayson stands. He sounds so damn casual, the bastard. He swipes up my empty mug and totes it to the bussing bin along with his.
It’s a small thing, done with the sort of thoughtless automaticity that makes me suspect he doesn’t even notice he’s gone out of his way to make my life easier.
ButInotice, and I’m still thinking about it when he pauses out on the sidewalk to chat with his admirers. They bat their eyelashes. One digs in her handbag for a copy of some gossip magazine I’ve successfully managed to avoid seeing, then hands it over along with a Sharpie. Grayson runs a hand through his shamelessly beautiful hair, which I decide is completely unfair to them, the poor things, then autographs whatever page details his latest debacle.
While he does it, he looks up through the window and holds my eyes. And winks.
