22. Lila
TWENTY-TWO
LILA
I hadn’t considered just how awkward it would be to hang out in Grant’s hot tub after he gave me the best kiss of my life. For the record, it’s super awkward. Mostly because I want to splash over to his side and go in for another round.
Impulse control has never been my favorite.
We soak in the warm water and fiddle with the tub’s jets and most definitely do not mention the kiss. Not mentioning it has to be equally as awkward as mentioning it would be, though, right? The silence raises too many questions. Does he regret it? Did we take our faking too far? Was it fake for him? Is it remotely possible his feelings are just as tangled up as mine are?
But I don’t bring up the kiss. I opt for something less confusing.
“What is World of Warcraft?”
His eyes snap to mine and it takes him a second to process that. Maybe he was thinking about kisses and questions, too. “What do you want to know? I can tell you way too much about it.”
I sink deeper into the water until my chin dips beneath the surface. The delicious heat has chased away the last of the lingering chill from the river. “Is it a fighting game? A quest game? One of those where you create characters and pretend to be a wizard?”
I’ve never played anything like that, but I’m at least aware enough to have some concept. An extremely vague concept, but it counts. I mostly play games on my phone where I move a jewel to make rows of three shapes or colors. Easy to learn, easy to get addicted.
“Yes to all. Except I usually play as a paladin.”
“What’s that?”
He shrugs. “They do a few things, but usually I’m the strongest one you send in first. The one who stands on the front lines and takes hits to protect the rest of the team.”
“That makes sense for you.” I like imagining him as some kind of pixelated protector taking out bad guys to keep his group safe. Just like he kept me safe on the trail. Looking out for other people comes naturally to him. Maybe it’s the big brother in him.
“Don’t read too much into it.”
“Oh, it’s already done. You like being the one who charges in and puts himself in harm’s way before trouble can reach your team. You’re the dependable one everyone else relies on.”
I suspect he’s the same with his family and his job. Responsibility and protectiveness run deep.
“It’s just a game.” His little mouth twitch confirms more than he probably realizes. That’s his modesty shining through—which completely proves my point.
I extend my legs to poke his knees with my toes. “A game you’ve poured a ton of time into. One might say your personality has seeped into the character you play.”
“One might say.” He grabs my feet and pulls them into his lap. My legs are just long enough to reach without having to stretch through the water too obviously. His hands clasp my soles, his thumbs gently rubbing into the arches. “Sometimes I play the rogue, too.”
Ooh, yeah, he does. Who isn’t into a good guy with a spicy streak? “Are those the ones who give the tastiest bits of their snacks to hapless wanderers, and share their tents with shivering women whenever needed?”
Wait. No. I should not be thinking about sharing the tent right now. Definitely should not speak of it. Sharing a hot tub is difficult enough without pouring gasoline over all of these flames. Plus, the foot rub is not optimal for maintaining non-flammable thoughts.
Between that and the mischief shining in his eyes, my insides are nothing but mush. I grip the molded plastic edge of my seat, ready to push myself firmly back onto my own side…or launch myself straight into his arms. I haven’t decided which.
“That’s the paladin,” he says, delicately massaging each of my toes. “The rogue would pickpocket you.”
“I’m safe. I don’t have any doubloons.”
“Coppers.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I haven’t had a foot massage in ages, and I’m already a little loopy from this double-barreled version. “I feel like a rogue would steal a kiss.”
Is that a hint or a cry for help? I have no idea.
“He would go after the most valuable thing you have.”
Grant’s hands on my feet don’t stop moving, but I freeze. The warm water laps at me and I sway like a buoy as his response screams through my head in flashing red neon. I don’t want to misinterpret him, but I have literally so many ways to take that, and all of them feel wrong.
“I might have a penny in my pocket after all.” My attempt at a joke sounds flat and sad, even with the breezy smile I stick on.
He squeezes my feet and releases them. My balance shifts, and I slowly tilt toward him, almost meeting in the middle of the hot tub.
His rakish grin starts my stomach on a mini rollercoaster ride. “The rogue would want to win your heart, princess.”
I’m not even a little bit shocked that Grant’s a good cook. A guy doesn’t have this many layers of responsibility baked into his personality and wind up useless in the kitchen. He lets me help in small ways, but mostly, I watch him work.
“You’re good with a knife,” I say as he chops up parsley for garnish. “But I knew that already from watching you whittle.”
He grins over the cutting board. “I’m trying to impress you with my strongest skills.”
Such a liar. If that were true, he would go in for a repeat of that parking lot kiss we’re not discussing.
Or thinking about. Because how awkward would that be, right?
So awkward.
“Tell me how the engagement party is going to go. I don’t think I’ve been to one.”
I snap myself out of musing over what it would be like to kiss him hello every time I see him. “Your brother didn’t have one?”
“They eloped.”
“Oh yeah. That didn’t make people mad?” Specifically, their parents. Mine would lose their minds if Hope or I tried that. They want us happy, but they want to witness the happiness.
“No?” He makes a face like it’s a strange question.
Men are so wild .
“Right. Well, engagement parties might be more common when your mom is over the top.”
“I suspect that’s why Eliza chose to elope.”
Smart woman. My mom never got the chance to plan a party for me. Josh and I were supposed to have a long engagement—plenty of time to organize the perfect wedding, the ideal reception, the dream honeymoon. We thought a year or two at least. Now, I feel like our willingness to put off our future together should have been a sign. Hope and Griffin would get married tomorrow if they could be sure everyone they love most could be with them to see it.
A year ago, I would have advised her to slow down and make sure every last detail is exactly right. Now, I envy her certainty that Griffin’s the right man for her more than any idealized wedding scenario.
Grant sets aside the parsley and wipes off his hands. “I should tell you, I don’t have nice clothes with me. If it’s very over the top, I’ll need to find something better than casual pants and a button down.”
“You’ll look great in anything.”
He lifts one skeptical eyebrow, but his mouth curls with the beginning of a smirk.
“Not these athletic shorts, obviously.” I’m a huge fan of the way they hug his amazing booty, but I don’t want to share that view. “Pants would be best.”
“I can swing pants. Anything else I should know?”
“Hope and Griffin are super chill about it, but I think they’re giving Mom a little responsibility now so she doesn’t go crazy with the main event.” I wish them the best of luck with that. It’ll be like reining in a tween at the makeup counter with her mom’s credit card. “It’s really just a casual party so my mom can say, ‘Hey everyone, at least one of my daughters is getting married.’ ”
Grr. I need to learn to shut my mouth when I’m ahead. I would have been better off rhapsodizing about his butt in those athletic shorts.
He looks up from the creamy sauce he’s stirring. “Will this be uncomfortable for you?”
“No. No . It’s fine. No.” If I say no enough, maybe one of us will believe it.
He goes on watching me. Being around someone this perceptive is comforting and annoying at the same time. Sometimes I need him to not see what I’m feeling for a change.
“Maybe a little? Not because I still want that.” No universe exists in which I would ever take Josh back. “Just the weirdness of everybody knowing I was engaged, and now I’m not. It’s kind of putting my failures on display, you know?”
All of our friends and family know by now, but that doesn’t mean they won’t have questions. I can only hope they’ll be too dazzled by my sister and her fiancé to ask any of them.
“I know.” The intensity in his gaze is like an electric shock rippling across my skin. “You wonder if everyone’s trying to figure out what you did to deserve it. How much of the break up was your fault. If there’s something wrong with you.”
I draw in a breath. He just sucker punched my heart right on its livid bruise. Completely by accident, I’m sure, but I wasn’t ready for the ache those words pull to the surface.
“Exactly.” My voice is a tiny little whisper.
He shuts off the burner and moves the sauce off of the heat before he steps toward me. My skin feels too tight, like my body’s pressed beneath a microscope glass and I can’t get free. Is he asking himself the same questions? What did I do wrong with Josh? Did I deserve to be dumped? Was his cheating my fault?
“Lila.” Grant’s oh-so soft in his soothing. He reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips barely touching me. Then, his arms come around my shoulders and he pulls me against him.
I sink into his embrace, my cheek on his chest, one hand gripping his side. Goodness, this man is warm. And so, so sweet. I am not going to cry—I won’t keep spilling tears over how unwanted and unloveable Josh’s betrayal made me feel. But Grant’s hold calms that too-tight sensation until I can relax in my own skin again.
He tips his chin down to rest against the top of my head. “There’s nothing wrong with you, princess. You deserve so much better than anything that guy could ever give you.”
I nod my head, not trusting myself to speak and not ask if I deserve him . This isn’t about that. Grant’s not trying to hit on me. He just wants to make me feel better. He’s looking out for me without expecting anything in return.
It’s like being away for a long time and finally falling asleep in your own bed. That overwhelming sense of belonging—of being safe and comfortable and home .
“Anyone who’s met that guy knows it was never about you.”
He’s so certain, yet so very wrong. “One of my friends told me guys don’t cheat if the woman they’re with treats them right.”
One of many supposed friends who dropped out of my life the minute Josh did. I hate that her words still stick in my head like a noxious smoke I can’t clear from a room. But the questions linger. Was it me? Was I not attentive enough? Did I spend too much time at work? Did he stop finding me attractive? Could I have avoided it?
Grant growls—legitimately growls—the low, angry sound rumbling against my ear as he hugs me tighter. “Anyone decent would know it was never about you.”
I know it’s not as simple as all that, but I love his fervent defense of me. I could have used a friend like him last year .
I could use one now. Only, I’m not sure I could be just friends with Grant. Not when I already want so much more.
“I’m glad I found out he was cheating.” It’s easy to tell him things cocooned here in his arms, where I don’t have to look into his eyes or see his reaction. “It gave me a solid enough reason to leave. His criticism was a hairline fracture that kept spreading, but I convinced myself I could live with it. Maybe I even deserved it. But the cheating was a clean break I couldn’t ignore.”
“Lila.” He runs his hands over my back, soothing and grounding me. “You’re making it hard for me not to go to every cabin out here until I find him and do something I will regret. He never deserved you.”
His unasked question hovers over us. What did you see in him? Grant’s too polite to be that mean, but he’s got to be wondering.
“Josh didn’t always treat me this way. In my defense, he can be quite charming when he wants to be.”
Grant gently pushes me back until we’re face to face. He trails his fingers into my hair, cupping the sides of my head, moving his thumbs over my temples. “He hides it well.”
I laugh, but the sound dies out. He’s still caressing me. Still looking into my eyes like it would be impossible for him to look at anything else. Still making my stomach swoop and dip in anticipation.
Just when I think he’s about to lean in, he releases me. “Let’s eat.”
Yup. Yes. That’s exactly what I was anticipating, too. The pasta. Obviously. Not another kiss. The comfort food can be enough for me.
His cabin has a tiny dining table, but we have just enough room for both of our plates. He serves pasta for us and brings slices of the bread he’d warmed in the oven, then pulls a bottle from the fridge and holds it up.
“Wine? I opened it yesterday. It’s a good riesling.”
“Yes, please.” Only one glass, I promise myself. More, and I’m pretty well guaranteed to crank up the awkwardness on this evening to eleven. I need to keep it in a solid seven range. Confiding about Josh pushed the limits, but I think I can bring the average back down.
He pours us glasses and sits across from me. Once we’re settled, I take my first bite of pasta. As I suspected, it’s bliss.
“This came straight from Alfredo sauce heaven,” I say behind a hand.
“Thank you. I’ve been experimenting with the recipe.”
“You can stop tinkering. It’s perfect.”
His soft smile is almost enough to distract me from the pasta. Almost —I only have so much willpower. If I’m not going to get lost in his sizzling kisses, I will just have to indulge in a food coma.
“I’ll need to recreate it the next time Eliza enlists me to make dinner.”
I give him a curious look. It’s all I can manage with my face stuffed full of fettuccini.
“She’s trying to make Irwin family dinners happen,” he explains.
“It’s not going well?” I say as soon as I’m sure pasta won’t go flying out of my mouth.
“Oh, it’s going. Eliza tends to get her way. Every other week, we have a standing invitation to their house for Tuesday dinner. Rhett is pretty much guaranteed to show up for the free food, and I join them most of the time.”
He’s leaving out a pretty big chunk of the family in those dinners. “And your parents? ”
“They don’t join us very often.” He pauses. “I think they’ve shown up twice.”
I can’t gauge how he feels about that. Usually, he’s pretty open, but right now he’s careful with his words. “Is there some kind of animosity between you? Or your sister-in-law and them?”
“There’s no animosity. They just have other things to do.”
“So…they just don’t show up?”
His smile is an exact copy of his mid-happy version. “Their usual reasoning is that we see each other in the office every day as it is.”
My mom is in my business twenty-four-seven, but it would still hurt if she never joined Hope and me for dinner because she’d already seen me around town. “That’s something you say to your coworkers, not your kids.”
His eyes light, and I would almost think he’s impressed by my little outburst if I didn’t realize immediately just how rude a thing that was to say about his parents.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just can’t wrap my head around parents who aren’t involved in their kids’ lives.”
I want to understand, but I don’t know what to ask. Every question in my head feels like an accusation. Like How can your parents not want to spend time with you? Or How can they expect you to make lifelong commitments to your family business but not do the same when it comes to your personal lives? Or the real stunner Is this why you feel so responsible for everyone? Because nobody is looking out for you ?
“I see that look. You’re ready to fight them on my behalf.”
I straighten, and try to get the bloodthirsty expression off my face. “It’s going around.”
“I like that look. But there’s no need to hunt down my parents to give them a piece of your mind.”
I make a sour face. “I’m still thinking about it. ”
“They love us, no matter how it sounds. Once they opened their store, the business came first.”
“That doesn’t sound as good as you think it does,” I whisper. “You and your brothers needed people there for you.”
My parents run their own businesses, too, but I always knew I could count on them for anything. I can’t imagine feeling like their work success was more important.
“My brothers had me. And we were never neglected. We stayed with our Grandma Gloria and Grandpa Connor whenever our parents were overwhelmed with keeping the business afloat. We tore through their huge yard and big old house like little devils. They knew how to keep us in line.”
I don’t think he realizes how much more tenderness he shows when he talks about his grandparents than when he talks about his mom and dad. “Are your grandparents still with you?”
“We lost Grandpa several years ago, but Grandma still gets up to trouble. She moved into a retirement community a couple of years back, and Dean bought her house. He and Eliza have made it their home.” He splays a hand toward me. “Which is why Eliza is doing the family dinner thing.”
“Yeah, but your parents …”
He shrugs, but I’m not sure he’s as indifferent as he’s making out to be. “They keep busy.”
I open my mouth to respond that they shouldn’t be too busy for family , but his quick smile makes me hold my tongue. It’s a good thing he finds my indignation amusing because I have plenty of it after hearing about this.
I get up to serve him seconds just to show him he can be taken care of too, even in some small way. Well, that, and to keep him from staring into my angry face while I internally explode. My mom meddles too much, but at least I can justify it by how much she loves Hope and me. Not bothering to see your kids outside of work is hard to explain away as an excess of affection. But I can’t very well go on a rant about his parents.
I set his refilled plate in front of him, and he looks up at me.
“Thank you.” His beaming smile melts a little bit of my anger. “You would make an excellent paladin, by the way. Very strong defender.”
I laugh and drop into my seat. “Are they the best dressed?”
“Oh, yeah. Armor like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Can you have more than one paladin on a team?”
“Sure.”
“Then maybe we should team up and take on the bad guys together.”
Even if it’s only make-believe.
And even if it’s only temporary.