Chapter 10 #4
She keeps her eyes trained on the mouth of her beer, but she can see in her peripheral vision when Crew turns his body and leans on his elbow, awaiting the dressing of his Dos Equis.
His stare seems to drift over the party, taking it all in, until he finally spots her.
For half a second, his head keeps moving, ready to look right past her.
But then he jerks his gaze back and goes completely still.
Even as the bartender sets the beer in front of him and motions for the next person, Crew doesn’t move an inch.
Grace decides then, even if just for a moment, she can be brave.
She wants—needs—to see what he looks like, looking at her.
Crew has looked at her many times, for many reasons, with everything from irritation and impatience to concern and curiosity.
In his gaze now is something else. Something brand-new that she can’t quite put a finger on.
It’s more of a flurry of feeling than one specific emotion—somewhere in the realm of wonder, maybe a sprinkling of awe.
She catalogs as much as she can, an exhilarating warmth starting to bloom in her belly.
“Hi,” she says, offering up a nervous smile. His appraising stare doesn’t falter; he doesn’t even blink, let alone look away. Instead, his eyes drift down her body swiftly, and the heat in her abdomen starts to boil when she sees his breath catch, his jaw tic.
His voice is slightly raspy when he responds, maybe even a little dumbstruck. “Grace.”
Grace smiles. “Didn’t recognize me?”
Crew shakes his head. “No, of course I did—I just didn’t realize—” His lips pull together in a tight line, and his eyes seem to be moving independently of his brain, refusing to cooperate until they take their fill of her. “New dress?”
She almost laughs at the banality of it.
The halfhearted attempt at having a normal conversation.
“It’s June’s,” she says, giving a little twirl.
Though the action, the showing off, is not something she’s adept at, Crew’s still looking at her.
It sparks her confidence a little, and she holds out the hem near her knees, fanning out the flowy fabric.
Showing it off, and, in the process, showing off her tanned, toned legs.
Crew’s eyes drop, and it happens again—that flexing jaw, unsettled and tense. He clears his throat, and Grace finds she is enjoying this maybe a little too much. This big, strong, stoic man turned fidgety and unsteady by a girl in a dress.
By her in a dress.
She’s never had power like this before. She may as well enjoy it.
“Do you like it?” she asks, because she’s enjoying playing with fire.
It could be dangerous, calling direct attention to this tension between them, something that’s maybe always been there but is now buzzing and insistent, growing thicker by the second.
It’s risky—it could be catastrophic, if looked at under a magnifying glass.
But his eyes have turned wild, like she’s a five-course meal after years of bone-deep hunger—and it’s delicious, the anticipation radiating down her limbs, all the way to her toes.
Crew’s mouth opens to answer; Grace sucks in a breath she’s unable to release.
“Grace—”
An unfamiliar female voice comes from behind her, closing in rapidly. Crew’s mouth snaps shut the second it hits his ears, and Grace can’t help but mourn whatever words he was about to say.
“Crew.” Grace turns to find Caia, short in stature but, like her mother, a titan of dominating energy. “Be polite and introduce me to your friend.”
Crew blinks, a too-long beat passing with him saying nothing at all. Caia grins, then turns to Grace. “I’m Caia,” she says, holding out a hand. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Grace.” She shakes her hand. “Don’t be sorry. We were just—”
What? Grace bites the inside of her cheek. What were you just…?
Caia pays no mind to her stuttered sentence; she simply crosses over to stand near her brother and elbows him playfully in the ribs. “Flirting, it looked like. Or whatever crude imitation of it my brother could manage.”
Grace watches a subtle redness start to bloom on Crew’s cheeks. Caia grins up at him, then, to Grace, she says, “Grace, the magical horse whisperer, right?”
Grace flushes. Bashful and ill-equipped at taking compliments, she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“She’s done great work,” Crew cuts in. “Got a stallion saddle-broken in no time.”
Caia nods, impressed, and with a swift clap to Crew’s back, says, “Then she’s out of your league in more ways than one.” Something behind Grace catches Caia’s attention, and her eyes bulge slightly.
“Uh-oh, you’d better go, Crew,” she says, feigning terror. “Cooper looks like he’s one whiskey away from trying to arm-wrestle a state senator.”
Crew lingers for a moment, looking between the two of them.
Grace, a little—a lot—intimidated by his firecracker of a sister, tries to implore him with her eyes not to go.
But Caia gives him no choice when she practically shoves him away with her palm to his chest. “Go, wrangle him before Mom has to.” She smiles and winks at Grace, then adds: “We’ll be fine. ”
Crew sighs loudly, tossing his head back.
Grace observes this, smiling despite herself.
It’s odd—and maybe even…adorable?—to see Crew among his family.
Especially Caia. She seems to bring out another side of him entirely.
More expressive, more present. More like Grace imagines he might’ve been as a kid.
He steps into her space then, and Grace’s breath catches slightly.
“I’ll see you later?” Crew asks, hardly louder than a whisper.
He gives her a moment, his eyes boring into hers.
Only when she gives him a tight, nervous nod does he walk past her, leaving just the slightest bit of room between them as he goes.
Caia snorts and mumbles something that sounds a lot like Real smooth.
Nerves dance in Grace’s belly, in her throat. The look in Caia’s eyes when the two women find each other’s stare is unsettling—mostly because it looks exactly like the one Renata gets on occasion when she’s trying to puzzle something out.
“Come on,” Caia says, hooking her arm into Grace’s. “I need a drink.”