6. gray
6
GRAY
O nce a week, the bed-and-breakfast hosted a laid-back evening around the campfire for its guests. A barbecue was always part of the event, as were the staff from the Curved Grape, who had set up a small outdoor bar. Several locals had also joined in, creating a lively scene on the grounds.
That was enough to keep my hands full, yet it didn't stop me from continuously stealing glances at Amelia, who had settled on one of the furthest logs we had turned into benches, just at the edge of the campfire, with a book resting on her lap.
To the rest of the guests, she blended into the background, her presence barely noticeable. For me, though, she quickly became the focal point in the crowd, where my eyes repeatedly and unfailingly returned.
She was there. Although I had essentially given her no choice in the matter, part of me had still been convinced she would ignore my request. Secretly, I had even considered what impression it would make on the guests if I carried her over my shoulder here so that I could have her near me—not only physically but to not be alone with the thoughts that no doubt were swirling through her head, whether she admitted it or not.
Wilder cleared his throat beside me. Normally, he didn't attend the barbecues, allowing his team to manage the bar and everything associated with it. But that evening, he had shown up—and the reason was obvious. "Your eyes are constantly on her," he observed, stating the obvious. Typical of him.
I shot him a meaningful look. "Is that so? I hadn't noticed."
"Why?" he asked, ignoring my comment.
Wilder was just a few years younger than me. Single. The owner of the only bar in town—theCurved Grape.
"I don't know." And I meant it.
Of course, I had asked myself the same question. Why her? Why the woman who was just stumbling out of a relationship? Whose heart had been broken right before my very eyes? Why Amelia, who made me forget all my principles and even my reason, which I had been so proud of in recent years?
"And I'm not sure what advice to give you. On the one hand, I want to tell you that you're playing with fire. On the other, in the ten years we've known each other, I've never seen you look at anyone like that. It makes me think… and scares me a bit."
With a flicker of confidence, I shrugged. "No matter what happens, I can't see a scenario where I would regret having brought her here."
"How can you be so confident when she practically has 'chaos' written on her forehead?" We both glanced her way. A slight wrinkle had formed on her forehead, probably because of what she was reading. "Where do you get this optimistic outlook?"
The answer was simple. "If I always dwelled on the negative, there'd be no time left for anything else. If she breaks my heart, I can always drown my sorrows at your bar with free drinks."
"If? Not when?"
I chuckled. "Positive thinking, Wilder."
"And your heart?"
Of course, he had to dig deeper. So I handed him my empty glass, which I had set down by the grill earlier. "Maybe I like her a bit too much for her to break anything else."
Wilder laughed. "I can think of at least one other part that's quite likely to be at risk."
Shaking my head, I nudged him toward the bar. He should get back to the job he obviously hadn't come here for and bring me another drink to help me survive more conversations like this.
As soon as he was out of my sight, my attention returned to Amelia, still immersed in her book. While I had been shelving her cabinet, there had been enough time to browse through her collection. With only half an eye, since time was pressing, it was hard to miss that she had a penchant for books with a dark twist, whether it was the classics or romance novels.
A stark contrast to what was found on my own bookshelf—which made it all the more interesting.
"What were you thinking about so intently?"
Amelia's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up because she was right behind me.
She stepped right next to me, book still in hand and using a finger as a bookmark.
"About the books I sorted into your shelf this morning," I replied.
She nodded knowingly. "So, you're still not over the fact that I read books with a significant amount of erotica?"
"You could be reading about sex between blue aliens for all I care. It wouldn't make a difference."
She opened her mouth but said nothing at first. Then she raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a problem with it," she finally concluded.
"Why should I?"
"Not even if I tell you that I read most of these scenes one-handed?"
Images formed in my mind. Images of her with both hands on the book because I had claimed the space between her legs for myself. As she read all the dirty details from her books to me, I'd be doing all the filthy things I could think of with her. I pulled myself together.
"If anything, I'd give you my credit card and the address of the bookstore so you could buy more of these books that I would obviously benefit from."
As if it were reality. As if I really gained something from her getting lost in these books all day.
"Figuratively speaking, of course," I added.
"Of course," she murmured so softly that I barely heard her. "Figuratively speaking."
To save myself from further embarrassment, I reached for a plate and served her a steak straight from the grill without any of the side dishes that were a few feet away on a small table.
Part of me hoped she would leave and return to her log so I could contemplate the ice-cold shower that I’d need later. Amelia stayed next to me, balancing the plate on her book. With her other hand, she had fished for silverware.
It was the perfect moment for Wilder to return, carrying not just one glass but two.
He offered one to Amelia with a wide grin. "Long time no see. If you'd like, you can eat at the bar. Unless, of course, you want to keep enjoying Gray's irresistible presence. Then I might suggest…"
"Wilder," I growled, which didn't stop him from continuing to chatter, grinning widely because he enjoyed tormenting me.
"You can eat wherever you like, Amelia," I finally snapped, earning a sharp sideways glance from her.
"Is that so? When it came to whether I could rot away the rest of the day in the cabin, you flat-out forbade it."
"And does being at the barbecue kill you?"
Her gaze swept over me. "No. But that's not because of the barbecue."
I ignored the fact that Wilder was whistling through his teeth. "Is it just me, or did the temperature just shoot up a few degrees? I'll leave you two alone before I get burned."
If he wasn't careful, he was going to burn something else entirely.
"He suits you," Amelia suddenly declared, eliciting a questioning look from me. "The sun shines out of your ass, and his attitude complements you perfectly. You could be brothers. You're not, though, are you?"
"In spirit, maybe. In all other respects… if he were my brother, I'd have to teach him a lesson or two. Now, eat up. It only tastes half as good when it's cold."
Amelia took the opportunity to cheekily salute despite having her hands full. "Yes, sir."
Was this the perfect moment to tell her that she should lie across my lap so that her ass could meet my hand because her comments like these drove me crazy and made it difficult not to react?
If so, that moment passed quietly.