“Hanging in there. What did you do today?”
“I’m working, actually. On a break. What are you doing?”
“The same.”
His answer is super simple, leaving both nothing and everything to the imagination. He didn’t say enough for me to decide if it’s a good day or a bad day, and I’m not sure I’m supposed to press for more.
“Sounds fun,” I reply and then decide to take a gamble. “Did you ever work out that big problem you had?”
“Maybe,” he grunts. “But I don’t want to call you and talk about work.”
“Well, what do you want to call and talk to me about?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait. I’m holding my breath, hoping, maybe even praying a little bit, that he’ll say something I want to hear.
Instead of something over-the-top, or even hopeful, he laughs. “I just wanted to hear your voice, to tell you the truth.”
“Well, here I am. Hanging in there, as you say.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” A long moment passes between us and I wait for him to continue. “Do you have plans tomorrow night? I’d love to see you now, but I have meetings that are probably going to run late,” he sighs.
I have half a notion to tell him I don’t. I want to see him so much that I would blow off Grant and maybe never hear what he has to say just to lay my eyes on Fenton again. But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I know I can’t do that. I’m just a distraction for Fenton and I need to hash this out with Grant.
“I do, actually,” I say, feeling the words fall off my lips.
I don’t miss his groan in response, but I can’t make out the words he mutters.
“What do those entail?” he asks cautiously.
“Dinner. Then wine.”
“With the same person?”
“Not necessarily,” I shrug. “I might have wine at dinner, but Presley and I will also be having wine when I return.”
“So it’s safe to assume you’re not having dinner with Presley?”
“That’s true. It’s also safe to assume, for what it’s worth, that I won’t be wearing a bikini.”
“Brynne . . .”
The deep timbre of his voice floods through me, sparking the spots in my body that only he can. I shiver from the onslaught.
“Who are you going to dinner with?” he asks, his voice rough, not at all the cashmere effect.
“Grant.”
Tension fills the line and I instinctively pull the phone away from my ear in some sort of pointless self-defense maneuver. Without being able to see him, I know his eyes are narrowed, his strong, sexy jaw pulsing. He would be looking down at me, taking a step closer to me, invading my space and my senses with all that is Fenton.
I gulp, the mere vision of him making me sweat.
“Can I ask a favor of you?” he says finally.
“Sure.”
“Don’t go to dinner with him.”
I snort. “Fenton, really? This is none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business.”
“Too freaking bad.”
He laughs, but the rumble isn’t filled with amusement or sincerity. “Go to dinner with me instead.”
I leap off the sofa, my cheeks aching from the smile stretched from ear-to-ear. Pulling the phone away from my face, I exhale a rushed breath.
It’s what I want—definitely what I want—to see him, to spend time with him. But as I pace across the break room floor, reality sets in. If not because I need this resolution with Grant, but because I’m not letting him think he can just call the shots. That’s not how I roll for him or anyone else.
He needed a pause to this relationship and now I do.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
The innuendo thick in his voice makes me shiver, my thighs clenching shut at the promise of things to come.
“I’m sure you would, Fent, but I really can’t.”
A low rumble ripples through the phone and I clamp my legs together harder. “I don’t understand why you are so hell bent on seeing this kid?”
“I, for one, have a little respect for a couple of years spent with someone.” It’s not the complete truth, but I don’t want to bring up Brady. I want to keep it simple.
“Like he respected you? Like he respects you now?”
“You don’t know him.”
“How well can you know him, Brynne? How can you sit there, someone as intelligent as yourself, and tell me you respect some guy that only took from you? Some kid,” he spits, “That you don’t know anymore, if you ever did.”
“I didn’t say I respected him, Fenton. I said I respected what we had. And I’m going to dinner with him, and I’m going to hear what he has to say.” I take a deep breath and realize I’m going to have to just be honest. “He says he has something to tell me and he won’t say what unless I meet him. And on the off chance it’s about my brother . . . I have to go. And if it’s not, I can walk away and feel like there’s not something I didn’t do that could change things.”