Melanie’s father pushes up from his chair, surprised, though not alarmed. Silver dusts a full head of hair, and he has the kind of face that perennially wears a smile. Melanie’s mother, on the other hand, remains seated and wide-eyed, a beautiful woman with a pale, sensitive expression and eyes almost the exact shade as Melanie’s.
“Melanie?” her father asks. I roam her body with my gaze, and when our eyes connect, I see her lightly tugging on a loose tendril of hair, nervously looking for an explanation. What? Now she’s leaving me here like an idiot? Currents of electricity crackle between us, and I feel my body respond.
“Mr. and Mrs. Meyers,” I say to the people seated at the dining table. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Mom and Dad, this is Greyson. He went with me to Brooke and Remy’s wedding. He’s . . .”
She raises her face to me for help. Her eyes wide and bright, and god, she screws my brain. My mind flashes with images of her—the playful woman, the siren in my bed, the nurse who wrapped me up and kissed me after, and I can feel the fire in my gut blend into my soul.
Quietly I say, “I’m her new boyfriend and it’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
I pump her father’s hand and hold his gaze. Her mother launches herself at me and almost disintegrates in my arms. “So nice to meet you!”
Uncomfortable as fuck by the immediate warmth around me, I pry myself free and head over to Melanie. My body feels charged just being near hers. Now lust, I can understand.
“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just a friend,” Melanie laughs, playing a role for them. With an amused smile, she looks at me, then quips, “Change of plans?”
I pull out the chair next to hers. “Looks like.”
Her mother claps delightedly. “Oh, we’ll have a new member to play charades with!”
Fuck. Me. Standing.
I haven’t had a family-style dinner in my entire life, not even when my mother was with me. Never with both my parents at the table. I don’t eat at tables. I don’t hang out with families. In their homes.
I don’t know why I followed her here.
Bullshit. I do know.
She’s my mark, but she’s marked me. Guilt, an emotion I’m not familiar with, niggles in the back of my mind when her parents instantly begin listing all of Melanie’s talents for me. I guess I look like a decent guy. I look more than decent. They think if she likes me, I deserve her. Fuck, it hurts.
“Greyson King, hmmm . . . I’m trying to think of any Kings I know?” Her father scrubs his chin. “We are in King County, after all. What about the KING-5 TV station . . . ?”
“No, I’m not from around here.”
“Greyson, can I just say our little grasshopper is not only an amazing decorator, she makes perfect homemade ice cream from the days when Lucas and I had a little gelato place. She can actually cook, this one can!”
“Only when forced to,” she says, grinning.
Fuck me again, but she looks adorable, somehow vulnerable and playful.
She makes me fucking hot.
Hard.
Possessive.
Protective.
What the fuck?
“So how did you two meet?” her mother wants to know.
Melanie sighs. “He saved my car from the rain one day.”
Her mother’s eyes turn huge. “When you found yourself standing in the rain?” she asks Melanie, as though they’ve discussed the night we met.
Melanie flushes—how can I miss the way her cheeks flare bright red? The fire in my gut grows even more when I realize she’d talked about me to her mother.
“Greyson, I hope you don’t think we’re being overly enthusiastic but Mel’s never brought a boy home in twenty-five years. Even a friend.”
“Twenty-four,” Princess corrects.
“In a little over a month it’ll be twenty-five,” her mother says, rolling her eyes and then peers through her lashes at me. “Our Mel always throws a celebration,” she tells me, her hands in prayer mode under her chin. “This year we can’t wait to see what she plans!”
For the first time I notice my party girl seems at a loss for words. “I might pass this year, everything’s so expensive.”
“Nonsense. It’s twenty-five big ones!” her father says.
Melanie’s silence is weighed down with a grief that’s palpable. Suddenly, I’m honed in on the fact that the three of us are watching her while she looks down at her plate, her lip caught under her teeth. My fingers twitch at my sides, and a flash of concern hits me as I realize she’s sad, the flash of pain followed by a flash of determination to make it better.
God, she brightens the room. When she’s sad it’s almost as if a light just turned off. I live in darkness enough and I’ll be damned before I let her see her light turn off.
“All right, so charades it is!” Her father claps with mock enthusiasm.
Under the table, I steal a touch of Melanie’s thigh and rub up and down in a slow, soothing motion I’ve never used on a woman before but that she brings out in me, nonetheless, and I get high when her cheeks redden and she smiles again, her sadness forgotten. I swear her smile shoots straight up to my head like an upside-down thunderbolt.
I should feel like a thief, like I’m stealing this moment that doesn’t belong to me. Instead it’s too damn easy to pretend it’s rightfully mine.
“Grasshopper, what do you say, boys versus girls. Huh, Greyson?”
Soon Melanie’s walking around sticking out her neck, puckering her lips, and leaning forward and pecking in the air. She’s sexy, and fun, and silly, and what she’s doing somehow shoots like a gallon of blood straight to my dick.
So apparently this game includes cards. We picked a category. The dad went for animals. And she’s acting like some weird animal.
“The team who guesses the most wins,” her dad tells me, slapping my arm. “Don’t worry, our little grasshopper never guesses correctly—a crane!” he suddenly yells out.
“Yes!” she cries.
“You go first, or should I?” her dad asks me next.
“By all means, sir. I’m not dying to make a fool of myself just yet.” He laughs and pulls a card out and I see it’s a bear.
He spreads his arms out and walks around. “Gorilla!” Melanie cries. He grins at me and lifts his arms up in the air, higher.