Page 14 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“Hi, Grant Malone. Nice to meet you.” Cool as can be, he ignores the irritation in my tone and holds his hand out for me to shake.
“Seriously?” I eye his hand and then look back to him.
“Oh, you’re going to remember that we know each other now? I’m sorry. I wasn’t quite sure if you were still playing the ‘I’m not Emmy, I don’t know you’ game like you were the other day.”
I grit my teeth because I deserve the dig, but hell if I’m going to let him know that. “What are you doing here?”
“Okay, so now we’re admitting we already know each other. That makes life much easier, don’t you think?” He drops his hand. “Desi invited me. She said she’s a good cook, and well, I like to eat.” The shrug he gives me is casual, as if there is no other explanation needed, and that smile of his never wavers from its boyish slant. I haven’t seen him in twenty years, and all the sudden, I cross paths with him twice in one week.
“In that case, she’s right over there.” I point to where Desi is sitting, cautiously staring our way. It’s only then that I realize most of the guests are also watching us.
“That, and I wanted to see you again.”
The words on my lips falter as I try to process why him being here has me so irritated, but it does. And just as bewilderingly, I can’t stop studying him. I can’t stop wondering about him and the man he’s become. Is he anything like the person my mind had conjured him to be on the odd occasion I thought about him?
I can feel the weight of everyone’s stares on my back and know they are wondering why I’m acting so bizarre. Normally, I’d hug whoever the new person was and welcome them into our transient circle without a second thought.
“Okay . . . well, then . . . beer is over there in the cooler and food is on the table. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the restroom.”
The kitchen is empty when I enter it, and I’m so very thankful for the silence to collect my thoughts. The irony is that the quiet doesn’t last long. Someone turns on the radio and music drifts in through the open french doors, along with my friends’ laughter and a voice that is unfamiliar yet familiar all at once.
I’ve come inside to get some distance from Grant so I can think, and yet I’m standing here studying him through the window. His dark hair and five o’clock shadow. How the sleeves of his Henley are pushed up to his elbows to showcase strong forearms. His natural ease talking with everyone and instinctual awareness of everything around him like his dad used to have when we were kids.
He’s just like the little boy I used to know and nothing like him at the same time.
That’s a brilliant thought, Em. He can’t be both of those at the same time . . . and yet, he is.
“Watcha looking at?”
I jump back at the sound of Desi’s voice and am shocked to find her standing beside me, admiring the same view I am. I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed her come in.
“Nothing. Just thinking.” Needing something to do with my hands, I turn on the faucet and begin washing them.
/> “Uh-huh. That nothing you’re thinking of has a mighty fine ass, if I say so myself.”
It’s then that I realize I’m supposed to be mad at her. “You promised, Des.” I drag my eyes from my hands to meet hers. “I said I was going to bail if you did this, so I guess it’s time for me to leave.”
“Have I tried to fix you up with him?”
“No, but I know that’s only a matter of time.” I cross my arms over my chest and follow her gaze. He does have a fine ass.
Oh my God. What am I thinking? I can’t stare at his ass. Or notice how handsome he is. Or wonder if his hands are as strong as they appear. He was like a brother to me—my best friend—isn’t it creepy if I agree with her? He’s from memories I erased long ago.
And this is why I came into the house in the first place. All I wanted to do was have a few drinks and relax with my friends, but now my head’s all over the place—courtesy of Grant Malone.
“I swore I wouldn’t, and I intend to keep my promise.” She bumps her hip against mine. “Besides, I made your favorite for dessert, so you can’t leave yet.”
Dessert? My ears perk up at the same time I try to fight the smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Which kind?”
Her laugh fills the small space. “You like all my desserts, so does it really matter?”
“No.” I laugh. And of course, now my mind is on whether she made a lemon tart or cheesecake or . . . crap, she’s right. I’m not going anywhere. Not when her dessert is involved.
“Look, we ran into each other again, and I thought it might be nice for you guys to reconnect. What’s the harm in that? He’s obviously someone from your past. He’s obviously interested in catching up. He’s obviously drop dead attractive. He’s—”
“You’re obviously losing your mind.”
“I meant no harm by it. I promise. I wasn’t even sure he was going to show. We’re typically surrounded by all my friends, so I thought it would be cool if you had your own friend here, too.”
