Page 70 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“He’s a player, Des. I’m a player. There’s disaster written all over that,” I say as I turn to look at her.
“You two could play together.” I roll my eyes at her lame sense of humor. “But he chased you, Em. Players don’t chase.”
“Ha. They chase until they get what they want and then they’re done. Besides, he didn’t chase.”
“Keep thinking that, sister, and I’ll sell you some ocean front property in Arizona.” I level her with a side-eyed look. “Fine. I’ll be quiet. Tell me how you guys left things.”
“Other than saying it was a one-time thing, we really didn’t leave it any way.”
“There was no goodbye. No walk you to your car afterward? No, call me later?”
“No.” I shift my feet because she’s going to see right through this in a heartbeat. “He left for his shift at the break of dawn.”
She leans forward, eyes wide, and full attention on me. “You were sleeping? In his bed?”
Yep, I knew she’d call me on how I broke that rule in a heartbeat. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh, so it was more like he sexed you up so good you fell into a sex-blissed coma and then he left you—a woman he doesn’t really know—alone in his house when he went to work? Was that how it was?”
“You missed the part where he kissed me on the top of the head in the dark and told me to stay as long as I like.”
She makes a show of shaking her head in mock disgust of my breaking my own rules, but I know she’s secretly fist pumping beneath the surface. “Yeah, just minor details. Like sweet and endearing details.”
I can’t help the uncharacteristic smile on my lips or the warmth that spreads within me. I don’t do tender or intimate. Hell, I don’t do anything near the sort, but then again . . . this is Grant we’re talking about. There is some level of comfort with him that I’m not used to.
It’s only one night, Em.
“He obviously trusts you,” she muses.
“Well,” I laugh the word out, “it doesn’t go both ways.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“Drop it, Des.”
She angles me a look that says she’s confused, and it matches how I feel inside.
It’s amazing that no matter how many strides I take forward—how normal my life is—a simple thing like the word “trust” can force my past to come back and slap me.
Grant doesn’t deserve it.
Then again, neither did I.
“Hot damn.” Nate smacks his hands on my kitchen counter and scares the shit out of me. “I knew you got laid last week.”
“What?” I look up from where I’m tying my boots.
Where the hell is this coming from?
“There’s lipstick on this mug,” he says as he lifts the coffee cup he was just taking a sip from.
“There is?” I mutter with a shake of my head. “My fucking brothers.”
“Gray and Grady are wearing lipstick now? Wow. I thought they’d go for more of a red than a pink.” He laughs as he dumps his coffee into the sink and grabs a new mug.
“No. They washed the cup after Emers—”
“I knew it!” Nate shouts from the kitchen. “You did get laid.” He flashes a knowing grin that I ignore as I move to my other boot.
