Chapter 13 #2
I stayed in the kitchen for what felt like hours but was only minutes, staring at the water bottle sweating as bad as I was internally, because—what the fuck was that?
Not knowing how much longer I had to search the rest of his house, or if I even should, I changed my motives to finding my phone, which went as well as finding something out of place in Grant’s home.
I crept back into his bedroom and tested my luck there while the shower was still running, opening each dresser drawer and finding nothing but neatly folded and stacked clothing.
I was staring down the locked closet door, wondering if maybe that was where his chaos was, when the water shut off.
I ripped the jeans I was still wearing off, cursing at myself the whole time as I dove under the sheets.
I thought maybe having my jeans off would make it seem like I’d been asleep the whole time, but that was silly because he just about kissed me in the kitchen.
The same place I think I left my head. I grabbed the throw blanket, tossed over the lower part of his bed, and jammed it up like a barrier behind my back right before the door creaked open.
My breath hitched and limbs froze under the sheets before I realized he must think I was asleep.
I pressed my eyes closed as his footsteps neared the middle of the room, then the sounds of the drawers opening and closing softly took over.
Pregnant seconds passed since the last drawer had closed and I heard no movement, but that wasn’t what was making the hairs rise on my arms. It was like I could feel him watching me, either checking if I was asleep or…
or just watching me lay there. A low chuckle, followed by a few more footsteps caused my body to tense up.
I decided to barely open one eye to see what was so funny as Grant bent down, wearing nothing but a thin cotton towel, and retrieved my discarded jeans.
I wasn’t sure what he looked like anymore because I tried to relax my eyes and regulate my breathing as much as I could, even when the sounds of shuffling told me he was getting dressed. The bed dipped moments later, and I was almost disappointed when I didn’t feel his arm wrap around my waist.
“Rise and shine, Peach.”
I groaned and covered my eyes from the sunlight pouring in. “I was sleepin’ real good.”
Grant’s warm chuckle drew my eyes open. “Trust me, I know.”
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “If I’m supposed to be holed-up here for two weeks, doesn’t that mean I can sleep the whole time?” I blinked to adjust to the light right as Grant pulled a T-shirt on.
“You aren’t being holed-up. And after what happened last night at the hotel, I’m not lettin’ you out of my sight.”
My throat ran dry. “Which means?”
He walked up to the edge of the bed, and I had to tilt my chin toward the ceiling to look at him. His lips quirked to the side as he said, “You’re comin’ to work with me today.”
I rolled my eyes. “I told you it was nothin’ I’m not used—”
He snatched my chin between two fingers.
“First off, no rolling your eyes at me. If you want to be a brat, then I prefer it under different circumstances.” I gulped audibly before he released my chin and stood up straight.
“Second, I knew those two assholes. They were tryin’ to take you because of me, not because of… well, you.”
“Who—wait. What?” I gathered my hair, then remembered I didn’t have a hair tie. I sighed. “What did you do to them?”
Grant lifted a single shoulder unconvincingly. “Nothin’ they didn’t deserve, really.”
I bit down on my lip, contemplating. I was far from home, and it was a stretch for me to think that I’d been targeted because of who I am…but then—
“How’d they know where I was staying?”
Grant shot it down quick like he knew it was coming.
“Small town, darlin’. Information ain’t that hard to find if you know who to ask and where to look.
” He pointed to my suitcase, dismissing any further conversation about it.
“Brought it in this morning. Get dressed, we leave in thirty. We can eat something when we get to the shop.”
“I need to take a shower,” I said as I got up and strode to my suitcase.
“Do you have a towel in there?” He was silent for a moment, and that’s when I remembered I was in a tight tank top and a thong.
Just that. Nothing else. I decided to act like it was nothing, though the way he was looking at me when I turned with clothes and a toiletry bag in my hands sure made it seem like a lot more than nothing.
“Under the sink,” he murmured as he turned. “Don’t be too long. I don’t like being late.”
Right as he was about to leave, I called his name. He slowly turned and cocked his brow. “Where’d you hide my phone?”
“Somewhere safe.” He tapped the doorframe, then left.
I’d only been inside the bathroom to use the toilet, but I would’ve figured it was just as clean as the rest of his house had I not been inside the room yet.
Pristine, sky blue tiles flanked the walls inside the shower, and the glass doors didn’t have a single water spot on them.
He would have shuddered at the sight of my bathroom back in Georgia, with hair products and makeup tossed around everywhere.
By the time I was done showering, doing my hair, and getting dressed in a yellow blouse with a plunging neckline, and jeans, Grant was standing by the front door, spinning his truck keys around his finger, catching it in his palm.
He didn’t say a word as I walked by him and opened the door.
I did, however, hear a deep groan as he followed behind me.
“Did I take longer than I should’ve?” I asked, looking at him over my shoulder as I neared the truck.
“Don’t worry ’bout it.” I frowned as the running board jutted out.
I really did try to fit in his timeline for whatever reason.
Maybe it was because I also hated being late, and recently, Walton had been the reason why I’d been showing up so late to everything.
“Let me.” Grant moved ahead of me and opened the door, waiting patiently as I settled in.
At least I’d packed sandals, so my feet weren’t so clumsy today.
Grant got in and started the truck, then looked me over before shifting into reverse. “You look really good.”
I blushed and pulled the gun from the back of my waistband, sliding it into the side door, trying to hide a smile. “Did I look like shit before?”
Grant smirked. “You always look good, Peach. But if it were up to me, I’d’ve let you stay in what you woke up in.”
Funny. That’s how I felt about him in the towel last night. No. Bad, Sophia. I cleared my throat and looked out the window. “Will Tallulah mind that I borrowed her clothes last night?”
“Nah. I think she liked you at the bar just fine, which is sayin’ a lot. Then again, she and Lyra seem to get along well, too.”
I arched my brow as I looked at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, my sister didn’t say a single bad thing about her the few times they have met up, so that means they’re friends.”
A wave of guilt hit me. Since I’d gone back home, I hadn’t talked to Lyra more than once or twice. I hadn’t talked to anyone, really. I couldn’t even blame Walton for that. He was hardly around unless we had to make a public appearance.
I fiddled with the bottom of my blouse, tracing the hemline. “Lyra seems to be doing real well here.”
“She found her home,” Grant replied.
“I don’t know what that’s like,” I blurted, wishing I could take it right back as Grant’s lips turned down a fraction. “I mean…nevermind. Forget it.”
Silence stretched in the seemingly small cabin of the truck until we got to his tattoo shop.
It was an older building made of brick, but had black accents that made it seem new.
Modernized. When we stepped inside, my eyes trailed up and up to the tall ceilings where the exposed tubes and beams were also painted black.
It had an industrial feel, right down to the silver metal sign along the wall that read, “Devil’s Den. ”
“You actually slept in today?” A woman’s voice hollered from somewhere inside.
“I keep telling you you should sleep in more. It feels good, doesn’t—” A tall woman wearing black from head to toe came out from the back, holding two boxes of black gloves.
She had large gauges in both ears, but the metalwork didn’t stop there.
It extended to every place imaginable along her ears as well as a single loop on her nose and right eyebrow.
Watercolor tattoos spanned one of her arms, while the other was solid black that extended up to her neck.
She smiled as her eyes danced between us.
“Oh, hi. I didn’t…I didn’t know we already had a client? ”
“Oh, no. I’m not—”
“Farrah, this is Sophia. My girlfriend.”
I refrained from narrowing my eyes on him and instead gave her my hand.
Farrah tucked the boxes under her arm, then shook my hand.
“I see why you were sleeping in,” Farrah said to Grant, then flicked her purple hair over her shoulder and turned her attention back to me, my cheeks no doubt a pinkish hue. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
“Farrah,” Grant groaned.
“Only stating facts,” Farrah replied, smirking at me. “If he ever gives you any problems, I have a king-sized bed just waiting for a queen.” She winked before dropping my hand and walked over to what seemed to be her station.
Grant’s hand slipped into mine, and before I could say anything, he was pulling me to the back where Farrah had been.
He guided me through a door, and right after it clicked shut, I was being caged in by Grant’s firm body, my back pressing into the wall.
“Look, Peach. I know I called you my girlfriend, and I know you want to slap me for it, but trust me, it’s safer if people think you’re mine. ”
I pursed my lips, picking my battles. “Fine.” His shoulders deflated, his grey eyes searching mine. “But I need to make a phone call.”
“I already told you I took care of Walton. He hasn’t texted anything beyond, ‘I’m feeling better. See you when you get back,’ so I don’t think he cares that you’re stayin’ here for a bit.”
My eyes turned to slits. “You never said he sent anything.”
He smiled. “You never asked.”
I glared at him. “I still need to make a phone call.”
“To who?”
“You want me to let you call me your girlfriend? Fine. All I’m asking for in return is one fucking phone call. You know, this is starting to seem more and more like a prison sentence.”
His jaw worked as he glanced away. Finally, he dug into his back pocket, then slid the phone into mine, his face dangerously close as he whispered, “Make as many calls as you want. Just be careful what you tell people.”
“I’m not the one who pissed off someone enough to come after me.”
Grant’s fingers curled into a tight fist beside my head on the wall. “I dealt with them. And if word gets around town that you belong to me, they won’t be coming back.”
“Because you’re so scary?” I taunted.
“Yes.” He pushed off the wall. “I have a client comin’ in soon. Take my card and go across the street to the cafe. Get whatever you want.”
“Can you afford that?” I bit back without thinking, regretting it instantly.
He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “I may not have millions, but I can afford to feed and take care of my girl.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stormed out of the room. I heard Farrah snickering as I left, making me wonder just how many women Grant pissed off. Farrah seemed rather used to it.