Those were the kind of girls Grant wanted. Not me.
“Are you all right?” Grant sat down on the couch next to me, put his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you, Lacey.”
“I’m fine,” I said stiffly.
“Bollocks,” Grant said. Then, more softly, his hand stroking my arm: “I’m sorry. You’re miserable, and it’s all my fault for putting you in this position. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know,” I said. Funny how I kept letting him do that anyway.
“Look, as someone who’s weathered a scandal or two?” His lips brushed my cheek and I could feel the beginnings of a smile, as if he were trying to coax one out of me as well. “For this first bit, things just have to run their course. There’s nothing we can do that won’t make it worse. All we can do is take care of ourselves. So…let me take care of you.”
His voice was so soft, so soothing. I wanted to lay my head on his shoulder and fall asleep and forget I ever even knew the definition of the word ‘trouble.’ He squeezed my shoulder tight.
“Let me take you somewhere fun, where we can think about something else for awhile.”
His fingers traced a figure eight on the skin of my forearm, and in that moment, I would have gone for a picnic in hell if he’d promised to be there with sandwiches and lemonade.
? ? ?
Ocean Beach may not be the best place to surf or catch a tan, but I’ve always loved it. I could feel my blood pressure going down the second Grant and I stepped from the car, and my anxiety seemed to seep away as we shed our shoes and walked along the coast, sinking our toes into the silky warm sand.
It was a windy, overcast day, which seemed to have driven the rest of the beach goers indoors, but something about the tranquil blues and greys of the sky and sea calmed me. It was as if the world was telling me that life goes on, that we are so small in the grand scheme of things and beyond our pretty trials and tribulations, the ocean always endures. Or whatever.
Grant scuffed his foot along the line of kelp, and spotting a hint of white, swooped down to find an unbroken sea dollar. He handed it to me with that shy smile that made my heart feel several sizes too big for my chest.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Much,” I said, trying to give him a smile back. “How did you know I love this beach?”
“I do listen to you when you talk, Lacey,” Grant said. “All evidence to the contrary.”
I didn’t even remember telling him.
We came upon a beautiful spot, high in the sand dunes but sheltered from the wind, and he spread the picnic blanket and took out our food—Trouble didn’t typically offer food to go, but it’s funny how quickly one flash of that Grant Devlin smile and a fifty under the table had changed that policy.
There were coconuts with holes bored into them, just needing a slight tap for the plug to come out before sticking in a straw and sucking up their sweet juice. There was toast slathered in peanut butter and honey, and—
“Here, try this,” Grant said, guiding a bit of toast into my mouth.
Sweet cinnamon exploded across my tastebuds, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut in ecstasy as I moaned. “Damn, that is like crack.”
“If you make sounds like that every time you eat it, I’ll have to bring you there every morning,” Grant said. “Wait—you’re shivering.”
“It’s nothing,” I said, and I meant it. It wasn’t the sunniest day, but it was lovely nonetheless, and I didn’t want anything to spoil this moment or make it end.
“Nonsense,” Grant said, and pulled me towards him. “Here What body heat I have, is yours.”
“Words every girl dreams of,” I said, relaxing back into his chest as his arms settled comfortably around my stomach. This really was much better. I snuggled into his warmth and watched the seagulls circle and swirl above us.
“I thought I’d try this ‘consideration’ business,” he said dryly. “I’ve heard it’s quite popular with the young ladies these days.”
“You romantic, you,” I said, chuckling and play-swatting his thigh.
He kissed my temple, one of his hands coming up to rub my back, unkinking the tension of the past several hours with sure, practiced caresses. “I can but try.”
I reached up and squeezed his other hand. “I do appreciate it. The trying.”
He pressed his lips to my temple again, lingering for a second longer there, and continued rubbing my back. We sat in contemplation there by the sea for what could have been hours or minutes; I was unaware of the time, only the steady rise and fall of the slate-grey ocean waves, and the feel of Grant holding me tight, occasionally reaching out to feed me another piece of slowly cooling toast, or offering me a sip of coconut water.
“We can stay as long as you want,” he said. “As long as you need.”
He was making it way too easy to fall in love with him, and right now, that was the very last thing I needed.
NINE