Grizz #2
I look down at the condensation on my glass, tracing a line with my thumb. “Some things don’t need an audience.”
“Some things deserve one.”
My walls, which are already pretty high, go into hard lockdown. “Not this.”
Her voice softens. “Is it family?”
That rattles me. I don’t answer, but in my head, I repeat, Please don’t push. Please don’t push.
And thankfully, she doesn’t. I don’t think it’s because she knows how to pick her battles or that she’s not interested. It comes across as respect for my boundaries, and in a world where I get pushed constantly, it’s a balm to receive that.
Instead, she watches me, her eyes searching. Finally, she nods. “Okay. Noted.”
We go quiet again. Only this time it’s a different silence. It feels easier, as if she just earned some trust by giving me space.
A second round of drinks appears unrequested, but neither of us sends it back.
Daisy laughs, small, unexpected, almost self-conscious. “You know, I promised myself I’d keep things professional.”
“You’re doing great,” I mutter, but damn if I’m not curious as to what she means by that.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Please tell me what you mean by that.
She looks at me sidelong. “Okay, I’ll avoid the personal for now, but you want to know what my impression of you is so far?”
“Not really.” Yes.
“You’re the type of guy who can charm or bulldoze your way through every problem until people stop trying to hold you accountable.”
She’s not wrong about that. It’s a skill I’ve honed. “Worked so far.”
Her expression hardens, but her cheeks flush slightly—vodka or irritation, I can’t tell. “You’re impossible.”
“And you talk too much.”
“Maybe someone should.”
I suppress a smile lest she think I’m a nice guy who can be charmed myself. “Maybe someone shouldn’t.”
She shakes her head, smiling despite herself. “You know, my goal isn’t to polish you up for sponsors or hand you a script. I want to help you stay out of your own way so this team and your career have the best possible chance of success.”
“That your official mission statement?”
“It’s the truth. And you need to understand, while Langley hired me and I work for your best interests, I’m working for you as well. I always take such things very seriously.”
I lean closer, just enough to see her pupils dilate. “You sure you can handle that kind of project?”
“I’ve handled worse.”
I grin. “Name one.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again, like she’s catching herself before she says something she can’t take back. “I get that you think everything’s a competition.”
“Only the things that matter.”
“Well, guess what?” she drawls, picking up her glass and raising it as if to toast this conversation. “I like a little competition too.”
“I’d chew you up and spit you out, little girl.”
She laughs and it’s both bold and melodious at the same time. “I actually think I like you, but you are totally insufferable.”
“And yet you’re still here,” I say drolly.
“Maybe I’m a masochist.”
“If you like me in any way, you are definitely a masochist.”
She scoffs. “I tolerate you. Barely.”
I take a slow sip. “That’s progress.”
The bar’s gotten quieter, the late crowd trickling out, music fading from the speakers.
“You know what your biggest problem is, Grizz? It’s not your temper or your mouth or even how you treat the world like it owes you an apology.
You think intensity is the same thing as honesty.
Like, if you burn hot enough, no one will notice how cold you actually are underneath.
” She’s still talking, words spilling faster, her hands gesturing more wildly.
Her voice blurs in and out of focus. All I can hear is the rhythm.
The cadence. I’m entranced by how her lips move around every word, and fuck if those lips don’t look exceptionally inviting.
“You act like the turmoil makes you special, almost as if it’s some sort of proof you care more than everyone else. But it’s all distractions. You hide in it. You build your whole identity…”
Finally, I interrupt her mid-sentence. “You done?”
“Excuse me?”
“If you’re not gonna shut up,” I say, voice low, “then I’m gonna have to shut you up myself.”
Her eyes flash. “What’s that supposed to mean? You are one cocky—”
I have no fucking clue what comes over me. Maybe it’s that burning need for control, maybe it’s because I want to see her squirm, but I reach out, hook a hand behind her neck, and pull her in before she finishes the sentence.
The kiss is ecstasy, sudden and electric. She gasps against my mouth, a sound halfway between shock and surrender. Her hand finds my chest, but she doesn’t push away, and that tells me a universal truth between us.
We’re both incredibly attracted to each other, despite the animosity.
The world narrows and all I sense is the faint burn of high-end vodka, the scent of her perfume. Everything else disappears and I use the oblivion to kiss her again.
When she finally pulls back, her breath catches, her eyes searching mine.
I sit back, teeth still clenched, voice rough. “Guess I found a way to shut you up.”
For a second, neither of us moves. Then she exhales, cheeks flushed and pupils wide.
“This is the moment you need to tell me that was inappropriate and you’re going to report me to HR.”
She shakes her head, almost smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”
I grin faintly, relieved that she wasn’t offended. Not because I care about HR, but because for some reason, I want to kiss her again with impunity. “You’ve got no idea.”
“Well, this has been lovely,” she says, lifting her drink and draining the rest of it. “But I need my rest because you are exhausting to deal with.”
I don’t say a word and resist the urge to pull her to me. She rises from the stool and nods at her empty glass. “Drinks are on you tonight.”
I lift my chin in acknowledgment and we both pretend nothing just happened.
I stay behind after she’s gone, finishing what’s left of my beer, the taste of her still in my mouth.
Outside, the Dallas night sings its tune with heat and noise, but I can’t hear any of it. All I can think is that I just made a mistake.
And that I’ll probably make it again.