Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Graham lowered the tray with the tea onto a side table masquerading as a coffee table, then sat neatly arranging the already pristine setup as he asked how I took my tea.
Evidently “Just honey” wasn’t the correct response, as he’d launched into a rant about how iced tea was a travesty, and what did I mean I didn’t want milk?
His thigh was close to mine as he gave his diatribe, the denim stretching around the muscles there. I got lost in the words which left me panting about as loud as my puppy.
I’d attempted to keep him out of Graham’s way as he bustled around the kitchen. But Noves had whimpered and whined until I walked him over so he could watch the kettle, which luckily didn’t have the same rule about pots that never boil. My counter space was limited enough without an electric kettle for tea, although I did have a Nespresso machine and frother for my coffee and my lattes—I wasn’t a sociopath, after all. Everything was in its neat little place, though, I noticed again on our walk from the kitchen back into the living room.
Graham lifted the remote and punched on the TV. “Tell me if anything strikes you as interesting.”
You do, I thought, but didn’t say. “Are you sure it’s safe, mixing tea and biscuits with American television?”
“No, but little secret…” He leaned closer and the thundering of my pulse echoed through my head. “I’m a bit of a rebel. A gambler, yeah? I code by the book, but owning a business requires a certain amount of risk. Where others waver, I unrelentingly double down.”
The way he said it, so confident and resolute, caused an unrepentant quiver in my core.
I gasped, throwing a melodramatic hand to my chest. “Are you telling me you’re a bad boy?”
His smile curved his mouth but didn’t reveal any teeth. “Somethin’ like that.”
The teacup and saucer rattled together as he extended it my way. To my surprise, once the kettle screamed to let us know it was done, Graham transferred the steaming water into a fine, bone China teapot with a navy and gold geometric print that matched the dainty cups with their filigreed rims.
I peeked at him as I blew across the top, cooling the liquid as my insides heated up. “Wow, a breakable little plate and everything. I feel so fancy.”
On the bright side, the biscuits he was opening were store bought, which alleviated my worry he’d expect me to cook or bake the American dishes I planned to show off. That wouldn’t be welcoming or impressive but disastrous, and I didn’t want him to go thinking the food on my side of the world was gross because I couldn’t cook.
“Digestives?” I read aloud, my momentary ease fleeting. “That sounds…” The opposite of appetizing, so it was a good thing I’d cut myself off. “Did you bring those across the pond with you, or do we have those here?”
“I brought some along, but not nearly enough. When I asked a worker at the supermarket, a lady led me to the section where dough comes in a can.” He pulled a sour face that made him look extra adorable. “I rang my sister straight away and begged her to send my comfort foods in bulk.”
Graham withdrew one from the package and held it out to me. It was flat, no fluff, no give or squish. I took a curious bite, and while it tasted nothing like I assumed it would, I was pleasantly surprised.
“Mmm. I know your secret,” I said, and that arch in his eyebrow could get me in serious trouble.
“Oh yeah?”
“I mean there’s the obvious…” I gestured around the room. “You’re a neat freak, one who cares more about office supplies than décor.”
He twisted his body, only a few extra inches, but the heat radiating off his body made it that much harder to focus on whatever I’d been saying. “That’s hardly a secret, so I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that to impress me, Holmes.”
“ Please. Holmes was an amateur. Give me Nancy Drew—or better yet, Veronica Mars—any day. Those gals can solve crimes, keep up with their classes, and land the guy. Priorities, am I right?”
Graham cocked his head the tiniest bit, his expression equal parts bafflement and amusement. “Ah, so you’re a woman who can multitask.”
“Not even close,” I said with a laugh. “Multitasking for me means twenty projects half-finished, scattered all throughout my house. But I do have a knack for asking a couple of questions and figuring people out.”
Ask his sign so you can test the theory…
Nope. Not yet. Then I’d make assumptions and if they were wrong, I’d be disappointed. There were plenty of people out in the dating world who were mean jerks, emotional vampires, and totally selfish in bed, regardless of the date or the phase of the moon they were born under.
I supposed, when it came down to it, throwing myself into ways we connected and aligned made it easier to shrug off the times we didn’t. It gave me a sense of control over a situation where I had very little. “Now, back to my original point…”
“Yes, right.” He lifted his teacup and sipped at the contents, and the juxtaposition of his long, firm fingers gripping the delicate cup did funny things to my stomach. My gaze fixated on the curve of his lip, as savory and strong as the tea. “What was this point of yours?”
The words rolled off his tongue, and my obsession with him and his accent was growing by the second. I cleared my throat. “You claim you’re having biscuits with your tea, but really they’re cookies.”
A shocked noise came from the back of his throat as he adamantly shook his head. “Take that back or I’ll have to take back your biscuit.”
I wagged it around tauntingly. “You mean my cookie?”
He lunged as though he meant to take my treat away, and I must’ve been hanging out with Nova for too long, because I practically growled as I swung it out of his reach. “It’s not a slam, I promise. I’m just saying I get why y’all would stop for tea and cookies every single day.”
“‘ Y’all ?’” His attempt at a southern accent was horrific. I’d moved around enough growing up to pick up slang and dialects from a myriad of places, and I legitimately hoped I didn’t sound that way, or I’d have to commit to never speaking again.
“Pardon. I’ll put it in a way you might understand.” I lifted my pinky as I sipped from my fancy teacup. “You Brits are going around pretending you’re above junk food and caffeinated energy drinks, but you just dress it up better than us.”
In the past I’d been teased about being made of sunshine and rainbows. In reality, I ran on a combination of sugar and caffeine, getting in my cardio by never being able to find anything when I needed it and trying to keep up with Nova. “And okay fine, soda’s not nearly as good for a body as tea, but hey, caffeine’s caffeine.”
“Soda.” He made another face, and if they didn’t keep taking my breath away, I might be offended. “Is that what’s in that massive cup you’re always carrying as you rush to your car?”
The fact that he’d noticed something about me besides my dog warmed my chest, and since he’d teased me about what I’d said on his doorstep, as well as that “intimacy bubble” comment, I figured turnabout was fair play. “Why, Mr. Edwards? Have you been spying on me?”
His grin spread wide enough to show a teasing glimpse of teeth, a hint of pink creeping over his skin. “Or rather, it’s difficult not to notice you whenever you’re around.”
Fenrir’s fangs, I’m about to melt into a liquid puddle on his loveseat, me and my tea.
“You’re a cyclone of energy. I’d be a fool not to pay attention to whether a destructive force of nature like that was coming my way.”
“Ah.” The offended noise came from the back of my throat, and I barely resisted backhanding him, like I’d do to Zac or Ethan. “You should be so lucky. I’ll have you know”—I flipped my hair and batted my eyes—“I try very hard to use my cyclones of energy for good.”
“Oh, like sending your pup to do the dirty work of nicking your neighbor’s takeaway?”
“Well, now that I know you’ve got cookies on hand…” Lightning quick, I snagged the package and helped myself to another. In my attempt to be saucy and get in my bite, I’d shoved the biscuit into my mouth, literally biting off more than I could chew. Still, I tried, one cheek popping out to the side. “Now my secret is out. I’m so far from fancy it’s not even funny.”
“I’m afraid I have to disagree. I find you highly amusing.”
“That’s hardly the same thing,” I mumbled around my bite of dry, crumbly food in the classiest of ways, holding up a finger as I chewed and chewed, which I supposed might be mildly amusing to some, “and you know it.”
My jackhammering heart pounded so loudly I didn’t register Nova’s presence until he’d jumped onto the loveseat. Wedging himself between us, paying no mind to the fact that it was furniture fit for two, not three. One half of his furry rump rested on my lap, the other one in the crease between me and Graham. It left him as lopsided as the frequent tilting of his curious head, so he didn’t bother holding himself up, choosing instead to recline against our neighbor’s side.
In other words, the traitor totally stole my move.
Now he was inserting his nose in my teacup, aghast at finding food and drink he hadn’t yet sampled. Tea sloshed over my legs as I swung my cup away, a hiss coming out at the sting of heat. At least it didn’t get on the couch and, once again, I was thinking about how clean and pristine everything was and the pressure to keep it that way. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Although, I probably should’ve mentioned I’m as accident-prone as my badly behaved boxer. Then again, you did call me a destructive force of nature, so I’m guessing you already know?”
Graham snagged a napkin and dabbed at the spill. “I suspected. Now , I know.” He flashed me a smile, his patting moving higher on my leg, and all the oxygen whooshed from the room. “Just taking the piss. I’m glad for the company.”
My hand drifted over, my palm resting atop the back of his. “Me, too.”
Sensing we were about to have another moment without him, Nova placed his paw atop the pile and glanced back and forth, as if asking whether he was doing this right.
When it came to wing-doggie duties, he most definitely was not.
But then Graham and I both got the giggles, and I wasn’t so sure. “All for one…”
“And one for all,” Graham finished. “The Three Musketeers is one of my fav ou rite books, and I’ve watched almost every adaptation. I always wanted to be D’Artagnan. Brave and clever, if a bit foolhardy. I tend to overthink everything, so it’s a stretch, but I maintain it’d all change if I wielded a sword.”
“I used to be obsessed with Barbie and the Three Musketeers movie.”
He got that perplexed crinkle between his eyebrows again. Naturally, he’d told me about his favorite novel, and I’d come back with the Barbie edition.
But no, as a female constantly made to feel bad about what I enjoyed, I refused to downplay it as not important. “Listen, the soundtrack and girl power were fire.”
“Well then it sounds like we’d better watch it sometime. I’d hate for my proud claim of watching every adaptation to fall short.”
I locked eyes with him, sure he was teasing, and while there was a definitive twinkle within the depths, his offer seemed to be one-hundred percent genuine.
It made it the tiniest bit difficult for a gal like me, who craved that magical rush of adrenaline that came along with the early stages of puppy love, not to go ahead and do a little falling.