“Mac…” Gently, Gray pries my hands away from my face. A groove runs down either side of his mouth. “Come on. It’s no big deal. In fact, it’s pretty cool. I’m healthy, and believe me I plan to stay that way. No more stupid shit for me.”
“Gray.” I lick my lips, and his gaze follows, his brow furrowing. And the uncomfortable tension that began with our fight grows even more. Suddenly, I’m tired. Down to my bones. My hand feels heavy as it lifts and cups his cheek. “Win this game, and I’ll make you any dessert you want.”
I don’t know what else to say. Or to do. Something broke between us when I let my jealousy get the better of me. Now our friendship has shifted. He’s my favorite person in the world, but I no longer feel at complete ease with him. I don’t know what the fuck I want, but it isn’t this strange new thing that we have going.
I sit up as Gray grins wide, oblivious to my unease. “Anything, Mac?”
I keep my back to him, making a pretense of smoothing my hair. “You saying there’s something I can’t make?”
The bed dips as Gray sits up too. “I was gonna win the game regardless, but now? Icing on the cake, baby.”
I roll my eyes and stand. “On the cupcake, you mean.” Quickly, I bend over and give him a peck on his forehead. “Give ’em hell, Gray.”
I pull back to go when a touch on my cheek stops me. Gray’s callused fingertips are gentle on my skin. “Ivy,” he says with hesitation.
“Yeah?” I don’t know why my heart is pounding. Only that the look in his eyes is intent yet almost afraid, like he’s struggling, and I’m not sure I want him to say whatever it is he’s going to say. But then slowly his hand glides over my cheek. It’s such a tender caress that my heart gives a little flip.
“Every inch, Ivy.”
My brows knit as I search his face. “What does that mean?”
Gray shakes his head, his mouth tilting with a faint smile. “Nothing really. Just something I say before a game. For luck.”
Swallowing hard, I touch his face. His jaw is warm and rough with stubble. “Well, then,” I say. “Every inch.”
The broad line of his shoulders sags on a sigh, and he nods as if I’ve given him a rare gift.
I leave him then, relief mixing with a strange sense of wrongness within me.
Eleven
Ivy
With Gray out of town, I find myself struggling with an excess of restless energy. I don’t know what to do with myself. And, really, I should be figuring it out. I’m a college grad without a job. I know what I want to do, but I dread telling my dad, who’s been footing my bills until now.
Skin twitching and gut clenching, I soothe myself the only way I know how. I bake.
Hours later, the house smells of golden, buttery-sweet goodness. I have enough donuts to feed Gray’s entire team. Which sucks since they’re not around to feed.
Fi arrives just as I finish glazing the last batch.
“Hermey, Rudolph, and Yukon Cornelius, what the hell smells so good?” Like a tracking dog, she stalks into the kitchen and nearly sticks her nose into a tray of donuts. “Is that bacon on the top?”
“Yup. Honey-chili bacon. I’m trying to break out from the standard maple bacon.”
She picks up a donut and takes a bite, groaning as she does. “You done good, Iv.”
I select a raspberry-filled with a toasted marshmallow topping. The flavor combination is reminiscent of peanut butter and jelly, but not as heavy and more creamy. Fi steals a bit of it and groans again.
“Hey,” I say with a laugh. “Don’t go getting me sick.”
“Bah. I’m not sick any longer, and if you were going to get sick, it would have already happened. Ooh…What’s that one?”
“Christmas donut. Eggnog flavor with a burnt rum-sugar crust like you’d get on a crème br?lée.”
“Yum.” Fi continues to munch on her bacon donut and speaks around a mouthful of food. “So what’s with all the baking? You channeling Mom?”
Hedging from answering Fiona, I reach for the bottle of red wine on the counter. “Want a glass?” I ask instead.
She eyes me for a moment then shrugs. “Red wine with donuts? Why not?”