“I’m not?”
“You’ve got me.” I cock my head to the side as though that’s obvious. “I’m here to help with anything you need.”
My words come out breathy. I don’t mean them to be anything other than an offer of help, but they sound like so much more. Grant’s eyes darken, and his breath hitches. We’re only inches apart, and with him like this, I want nothing more than to forget the last few weeks and break the distance between us. My tongue darts out, wetting my lower lip. Grant’s eyes follow my movement. With a deep inhale, he moves marginally toward me.
“Grant,” I almost pant.
At the sound of his name from my mouth, his lips crash to mine. All thought about where we are and who he is evaporates. I don’t give a fuck about anything but his mouth on mine. It’s heaven. His groan alerts me we’re on the same wavelength. His hands tangle in my hair, and it’s the alley all over again. Hot. All-consuming.
Perfect.
A commotion down the hall has us jumping apart, and just like that, our connection is gone. Frustrated and panting, we both go to opposite ends of the room.
“I need to use the restroom,” Grant announces, and I can’t help but chuckle under my breath.
I bet you do.
“Hey, sweetie, you look lovely. Have you done something different to your hair?” my mom says the minute I walk in the door of my childhood home.
I laugh. It looks exactly the same. “No, Mom. It’s the same mousy blond as always.”
“It’s not mousy. But if you really feel that way, you could always color it.”
“You think I should color it? I thought you said I looked lovely.” I wink.
“Can never win with you and your sisters. You three will make me go gray.” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she does so.
I lean in and kiss my mother on the cheek. She’s extremely protective of me, sometimes to a fault, but the fact she cares as much as she does means the world to me.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Where else?”
I start down the hall, knowing exactly where he is.
“Hi, Dad,” I say as I peek my head into the open door to find my father sitting in his office in the same position he’s always in. He loves this sofa so much that it’s starting to sag from constant use. But no matter how many times Mom has told him it’s time to get a new sofa, he refuses. I love this about my family. The consistency. What must it be like for Grant to not have a relationship with his? I know how much that would wear on me, and in this moment, I get him. My heart hurts for him.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says and smiles up at me. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Dad. I’m happy to see you.”
He pulls me into a hug. “How’s the new job?”
“It’s . . . interesting?”
“You don’t like your job?”
“No, I do. It’s great, and I’m learning a lot, actually.”
“So, what’s the problem? A boy?” my dad says knowingly.
“You see too much.”
“I’m wise. Years will do that to a person. Experience will make you wiser.”
“I don’t want to know anything about your experience,” I tease, but I see the look in my dad’s eyes at my words. My words, although not intended, hit too close to home.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Bridget, but they were all life lessons. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them. Some people come into our lives to grow with us, and others to help us grow ourselves.”
“What I’m hearing you say is don’t hold back?”
He chuckles.
“It depends on what we’re talking about. You haven’t really told me anything concrete.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it, Dad, but I hear what you’re saying.”
He nods. “All I’m going to say is take chances but make sure you guard your heart as well. You’re young, and you have plenty of time to meet the right person. Don’t chase, be chased.”
“Solid advice, Dad.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead.
“Anything interesting on?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
“The same old stuff.”
“Well then, I’m going to go help Mom. I just wanted to say hi.”
“I’ll join you when dinner is ready.” He smiles.
I walk back toward the kitchen. “Are Lynn or Olivia coming?” I ask my mom.
“Neither could make it. Olivia’s traveling with Spencer somewhere. You haven’t heard from her, have you?”
“I haven’t.”
“I think he’s the one.” She shrugs. “Just a feeling I get.”
I roll my eyes. My mother always says stuff like this. She thinks being a mom gives her superpowers. “You read crystal balls nowadays?”
“Hey, wait until you have children and you’ll understand what I mean. You get a feeling with your children. Mark my words.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Help me set the table.”
I laugh, grabbing plates and setting them around the table.
“Smells good in here,” Dad says, entering the kitchen.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ve been slaving away all day,” I say, placing the last plate in place and taking my seat with the others.
“Ha! You’d poison us with your cooking.”
“I don’t even have a comeback for that. You’re absolutely right.” I turn my head toward my mom. “How come my cooking is so bad when yours is so good? I didn’t get your culinary genes at all.”
“There’s no such thing as culinary genes. It’s all to do with hard work and practice.”
“Ah, well, there’s my problem.”
“You have so much determination in other areas, why not the kitchen?”
“Not interested, I guess,” I say, scooping food onto my fork.
“Now, there is the truth.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I roll my eyes, blatantly. “This is delicious.” I chew my first mouthful of the chicken curry.
“So, tell us about work. How’s it going?”
“It’s good.” I haven’t told them where I’m working and I hope they don’t press. They probably think I’m still working at Axis, and seeing as I haven’t told Olivia where I work, I have no intention of breaking the news to them first. “It’s going great. I’m really enjoying it, and I’m learning so much. I’m making some great connections.”
“I’m glad to hear that. What’s your boss like? I remember you said he was quite hard.”
I choke on my food.
“Bridget, are you all right?” Mom asks, brows pinched.
“I’m fine. You just hit the nail on the head,” I lie. “He’s tough all right. But I can handle it.”
“Lynn said you were very unhappy,” Dad retorts.
“Actually, he’s been a pleasure to work for. He’s been teaching me the ropes and has finally opened up quite a lot to me. You know, I think there’s more to him than meets the eye. And naturally, it does help that he’s so good-looking,” I joke before thinking better of it. I’ve just opened up a can of worms.
“He’s good-looking? I didn’t know that.” Her downturned lips and creased brow tell me she has something to say, but then she shakes her head and just nods. “Nothing wrong with a bit of eye candy. Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it, dear.”
Eye candy? Dear God.