“Hey,” I said softly from across the half wall.
He pulled sweet potatoes out of the oven and then turned toward me. “Hey.”
“Um. What are you cooking?”
“Sunday family dinner,” he answered with a raised eyebrow like he hadn’t dropped a bombshell on me an hour and a half ago. “Wash up, it’s on the table in five.”
“Where are Josh and Jagger?”
“They made themselves scarce,” he responded with a shake of his head, like it hadn’t been his decision. “Are you scared to be alone with me now?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. I saw two plates.”
He exhaled and closed his eyes in obvious relief. “Right.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, then ran upstairs. I changed out of my work clothes, throwing on cargo capris and a soft, fitted tee. “Don’t freak out. You can do this.” Great, I was seriously pep-talking myself in the mirror.
“You ready?” Grayson asked, holding out my chair as I came back into the dining room.
I took a seat, and he took his on the corner next to mine. He laid out green beans, sweet potatoes heaped with marshmallows, and a succulent steak. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t given it a decent meal that wasn’t out of a processed bag since Friday. “Thank you for cooking dinner.”
“Well, it’s Sunday. It was a little harder since nothing is quite where I left it,” he said with a half smirk that still sent a jolt through my core. My body apparently didn’t care that he had a girlfriend…or had killed her.
“I rearranged. Want a beer?” I asked, hopping up to get to the fridge. I did. Or a shot of tequila, whatever would help me through what was going to happen next.
“Nope. Not tonight.”
“Well, I’m having one.” Or fourteen. Whatever. I popped the top and took my seat, digging into my food as he was.
We ate in silence, both looking up at each other at intervals, and neither of us brave enough to say the first word. But it had to be spoken, right? You didn’t just declare yourself a murderer and then…ignore it.
An entire steak and a beer later, I pulled the ace of spades from my pocket and put it on the table before him. “Explain.”
He stood, took a deck of cards out of the cargo pocket on his shorts, and sat back down. “Diamonds or hearts?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Diamonds or hearts? Pick a suit.” He had them separated before him.
“Hearts.” Because he’d stuck a knife in mine and then turned it. Hell, I think he was sitting in the actual chair where I’d basically ridden him like a prized pony.
“Fitting,” he muttered, handing me the stack and then clearing our dishes to the sink. The bare wood of the table was instantly very intimidating.
I had a feeling we were about to cover it with his secrets.
“What are we doing?” I asked, my pulse skipping.
He consumed his chair again, curling the brim of his Citadel baseball hat and leaning forward on his elbows. “I watched Jagger nearly fuck up everything he had because he was too stubborn to tell Paisley the truth from the get-go.”
“Right. I remember.”
“You and I…whatever we are, or could be…that won’t be us. I’m going to tell you every bad, ugly thing about me. You’re going to tell me every bad, ugly thing about you, and then we’ll decide what to do about this insane pull between us.”
I licked my bottom lip. “Oh, you think there’s a pull between us? I thought we were just friends.”
His gray eyes sliced through me, cutting me all the way to my soul. “Samantha, if we weren’t about to discuss our deepest secrets, I’d lay you across the table, strip those sexy little capris off your ass, and bury my tongue between your thighs. God knows I’ve thought about it enough. How’s that for friends. Really, it’s more a force of nature, but I’ll settle for you admitting that there’s a pull.”