Chapter Twenty-Six Rae
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rae
DANE WABASH’S HAND DROPS from my arm.
“Sit down,” Grant says, so threateningly calm that the hair all over my body stands up.
Oh. My. God.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t know you two were—”
The door beeps a few feet away, admitting Dorothy. “Dane? What a surprise.” She looks at the three of us, obviously gauging the situation before putting a strained smile on her lips. She’s giving Barbra Streisand when she puts out a hand, not for a shake, but for a queenlike clasp.
“Hey, Dotty, I was just—”
“Have you had breakfast?” Dorothy Gold lowers her glasses and narrows her sharp gaze on him, and oh, holy crap, she’s not Barbra; she is literally the Godfather when she says, “We’re going to breakfast.”
“I’m actually here to—”
“The investors’ meeting is in two weeks, Dane. We are not open for visitors today.”
“Listen. I own half this—”
“Need me to escort him out?” Grant cuts in, big and hard and scary in a way I’ve never seen him look.
What the hell is going on?
“I don’t know. Do I, Dane?” Dorothy asks the other man.
He looks from her to Grant, possibly sizing him up. The threat sizzling in the air between them makes me take a step back.
“I’m good.” He grins. “Breakfast with the mother-in-law sounds great.” He heads outside, holding the door open for Dorothy, and gives Grant a final stare before following her down the steps.
The second the door closes, I look at Grant. “What just happened?”
Grant shakes his head, breathing hard.
“You okay?” My hand lands on his chest, and he anchors it there with one of his.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“That’s her son-in-law?”
“Are you hurt, Rae?” He looks down at the wrist Dane Wabash grabbed. “Show me.”
I blink. “It’s fine. See?” I hold out my arm.
Grant takes my wrist gently, turns it over, and runs his fingers across my skin.
The second he sees the red mark, he spits out, “Goddamn it. I should’ve…”
“What?” Our gazes meet. “What should you have done?”
“When he grabbed you, Rae, I wanted to… I had…”
“What did you have?”
“I had urges.”
“Urges?”
“Violent ones.”
“Okay.” He’s so close I can smell soap and warm skin. “What about now?”
“Now?” Our eyes snag, and I see the striations of his irises, as finely detailed as the rings in a tree trunk.
“Are you still having urges?” I whisper, his proximity sending warm, lazy curls to my belly.
Our hands slide together, palm-to-palm, and our fingers clasp.
His pupils widen, his eyes lowering to my mouth.
I can’t help but stare and wonder how he tastes.
My head tilts back, suddenly heavy from the pressure of his gaze.
His focus sharpens on my mouth, and I swear he is three seconds from closing the gap between us when the exterior door beeps and swings open, letting in the sounds of traffic along with a shot of cold air and a wide-eyed Sam.
Grant and I jump apart. Sam pauses in the open doorway and stares at us. “Good morning?”
“It is,” Grant says, his voice low and sandpaper rough.
“Definitely.” I nod, looking around like I’ve lost something.
“I’ll, uh… work.” On that note, Grant bends, scoops up his laptop bag, and says, “Don’t forget your coffee,” before heading into our office.
“So,” Sam sings as she saunters in, “what’d I miss?”
“Hold on.” I grab my things and start to follow Grant.
“No, no, no, you hold on,” she says, stepping in my way. She has to bend to line her face up with mine, and whispers, “We’re going out tonight. And you’re telling me everything. Got it?”
“Only if you tell me what’s happening with you.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
She moves out of the way and goes to high-five me, giving up when she sees the coffee in my hand.
“What was that about?” I ask Grant as I close the door behind me. “The son-in-law thing?”
He looks at me, appears to consider, and then shakes his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, no. You don’t get to blow me off like that after the things I heard today. That guy is up to—”
His phone vibrates. He mutters under his breath, grabs his things, and looks at me. “I’m serious, Rae. It’s fine. Everything will be okay. Got it?”
Another long vibration from his phone makes him curse.
I back away. He starts to take off and then turns to look at me from the doorway.
“Don’t forget to drink your coffee.” His gaze flicks down to my mouth and then up.
“It’s pumpkin spice,” he says, before leaving me standing in the middle of the office, utterly confused.
I take a sip. Another. Dammit, why is this so good? I have tasted a lot of pumpkin spice in my life, and this one is definitely a top ten contender. I’ll have to ask Grant where he got it.
Right after I make him explain the Dane Wabash thing. Because whatever is going on here, it’s not good.
What I don’t get is why it’s being kept a secret.