Chapter 15 #2
Grayson tightened his grip. “I’m not mad anymore. In fact, I’m sorry for that day too. I reacted badly.”
Wren started to shake her head, but he wouldn’t let her refute his comment.
“I should have let you explain,” he continued. “And I shouldn’t have made a mountain out of a molehill.”
Wren laughed. “My dad uses that expression all the time.”
“Lark told me.”
Wren wasn’t sure what to make of that. She hadn’t asked her sister for too many particulars regarding her conversation with Grayson. She’d been too afraid to know, to hear that he hated her.
The walk to Wren’s apartment was entirely too quick. Once they reached it, they stopped on the sidewalk, right outside the door. She pointed to the front right window on the second floor. “My apartment is up there. There are two downstairs, two up.”
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said, in that tone that said he was doing so no matter what she said. Not that she minded. She wasn’t eager to say good night.
When they reached her door, she turned to face him. “Would you like to come in…for a glass of wine?” she hastily added, hoping her invitation wasn’t too forward. “Or, I mean…if you’d rather go back to the dance, I—”
Grayson stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the light scent of his cologne.
“Wren.” The way he said her name sent butterflies whirling in her stomach.
“I want to be where you are.” He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, gently.
It was everything she never expected from a man who was so large and confident and, quite frankly, intimidating.
For her first two attempts at dating, she had chosen men who were slighter, smaller, and who were also quieter—like her.
“Oh,” she whispered.
He grinned. “I’d love to come in for a drink.”
“Okay,” she replied breathlessly.
His lips were close enough to hers, it would take very little effort to cut the distance and kiss him. Not that she was bold enough to do that, but damn if she didn’t wish she was.
For the first time, she wondered if maybe Sophie was right. That she wasn’t damaged, wasn’t too far gone for a real relationship.
As she unlocked the door, she realized this was the first time she’d ever invited a man into her apartment who wasn’t her father or her brother or Manny, when he came to fix the plumbing. The thought should have made her anxious, but instead, she felt oddly calm.
Honestly, she was starting to think this man had cast some sort of spell on her. As fantastical as that sounded, it was the only thing that made sense to her since for too many years, fear had been her best friend.
“It’s kind of small,” she said as they entered.
Grayson closed the door behind him before looking around.
Her place wasn’t fancy, but it was functional and just enough for her.
A soft blanket was draped over the back of the couch and there were plants scattered all around.
She told herself that one day, she’d buy her own house, one with a small vegetable garden in the back and flowerpots full of colorful blooms on the front porch.
“It’s cozy,” he said, gesturing toward one wall that contained a large bookshelf, overloaded with paperbacks. “I had no idea you enjoyed reading,” he joked.
She smacked his forearm. “Ha ha. Make yourself comfortable.” She pointed to the couch. “I’ll go grab the wine.”
She quickly went into the kitchen, grateful she was a tidy person by nature. Even though the apartment was relatively clean, if she’d known Grayson would be here, she would have scrubbed the hell out of it today.
Picking up the bottle, corkscrew, and two glasses, she returned to the living room.
Grayson smiled when he saw the Lightning in a Bottle label. “Good choice,” he teased, as he took the corkscrew from her and opened the bottle of red with a practiced hand. Then he filled each of the glasses, handing her one, looking very at home in her space.
God, it was such a turn-on.
They tapped their glasses in a silent cheers and took a sip. “This place suits you.”
She smiled. “It does?”
“Yeah. It’s peaceful.”
No one had ever described her apartment that way before, but that was certainly the way her home made her feel. She liked that he recognized that.
He swirled the wine in his glass. “Damn fine wine.” It was obvious he was joking with her, considering he was the one who’d made it.
“I fell in love with it at the festival. Afterward, I begged Lark to pick up a couple bottles for me.”
“It’s one of my favorites too, but I’ve got another small batch of red we didn’t take to the festival that I think you’ll like even more. You should come to the winery one day soon. I’ll give you your own private tasting.”
Wren’s cheeks heated. She was certain she was only blushing because her newly developed dirty mind instantly started thinking about some other things she wanted to do with him in private.
They settled deeper into the couch together, and, like at the library, the conversation flowed easily between them.
Wren found herself telling him things she hadn’t thought about in ages. Stories about growing up with Lark, the chaos that came with being the twin sister of such a whirlwind of a person. Then she spoke about the comfort found in having someone who always understood her.
Grayson shared little bits and pieces about his childhood as well, remarking that while he and Maverick weren’t twins, they did feel like kindred spirits in an opposites-attract way.
As such, she got the sense that he genuinely understood when she talked about the special relationship between her and Lark.
He shared the same one with his brother.
She was sadly lacking on girlfriends, so she didn’t usually spend so much time talking about herself. With Grayson, it was easy. Because he was truly interested. He asked countless questions, wanting more details, laughing at the antics she and Lark had gotten into, relating his own funny stories.
Eventually, the conversation circled back to the wine festival. “I still can’t believe we pulled it off,” she sighed. “I think I did a shitty job of imitating Lark.”
Grayson laughed. “You know, I feel like a complete idiot for not figuring it out. If not at the festival, I sure as shit should have put it together after seeing you in the library.”
“Oh no,” Wren said, putting her wine down. “It was never my intention to make you feel stupid.”
Grayson leaned toward her, his expression softer. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. I’m joking. So what other old-timey sayings does your dad use? Because my granddad used to have some beauts. My favorite line he liked to use was, ‘He’s all hat, no cattle.’”
She laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”
Grayson explained, and they were off to the races, going tit for tat, listing every grandpa-style country saying they could remember.
Two hours passed in the blink of an eye as they polished off the bottle of wine, talking like long-lost friends.
Wren shared some details about the book club, the two of them cracking up as she related some of Manny’s questions regarding the racy sex scenes in the book they’d read.
“That guy is hilarious,” Grayson said. “He and Edith have become honorary Storms, the two of them rarely missing a Sunday dinner at Mom and Dad’s. You should come tomorrow night.”
Wren paused. “Oh, I couldn’t—”
Grayson brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Wren.”
“But if it’s just fam—”
“Consider it?” he asked. “Please.” He leaned closer.
Her breath caught when his gaze dropped to her mouth.
He gave her time to pull away. When she didn’t, he lowered his head, his lips touching hers.
Wren melted.
The kiss started soft and sweet before he deepened it, his large, calloused hands cupping her cheeks, turning her head slightly this way and that.
Then one hand left her face, traveling lower. His arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her against him. Wren followed his directions without an ounce of hesitation.