Chapter 20
Inside Grant’s cabin, Thandie left him sitting in the kitchen while she turned on the shower for him. “I don’t want you touching anything until you clean your skin off.”
“And yours,” he said while she was still in the bathroom checking the water temperature.
She looked down at her hands and forearms. Small red dots had popped up from where she had touched Grant and when she had swatted the flowers from his grip. She didn’t even realize that she had been affected until he mentioned it just now.
“You go first,” he said.
“Here? No, that’s okay.” She shook the warm water drops from her hands and went out to the kitchen. “I’ll go back to my place. I can come check on you later.”
“Absolutely not.” There was no amount of negotiating room in his voice. “You heard the storm coming. You should hop in really quick, and then I’ll go.”
She protested again, but he was right. The longer she stayed there stalling, the closer the storm was getting. “Do you have something I can put on?” She showed him her arms. “My clothes are probably covered too.”
“Of course. There’s a pair of robes hanging behind the bathroom door. I used the gray one, but the white one hasn’t been touched. You’re more than welcome to borrow it.” Grant shooed her away with his hand.
After she got cleaned up, she wrapped the fluffy white robe around her body and tied the rope closure as tight as she could comfortably stand. She used her claw clip to brush out her half curly, half straight hair, and pinched her cheeks for a bit of color. A deep breath was necessary, and she took three. Steam escaped the bathroom when she finally opened the door, and she felt like she was in a made-for-TV movie about a ghost haunting a Roman bath.
Grant hadn’t moved from his place in the kitchen, and his smile melted her heart and her nerves. “Your turn,” she said as another crack of thunder shook the old windows. “Better hurry.”
As he turned the shower water back on, Thandie grabbed an empty trash bag from under the sink and opened it. “Since you’re not cleaned off yet, can you grab my clothes and put them in here?” She held the flimsy white plastic bag open, careful not to be touched by the contaminated garments as he slid them inside. “Now take yours off,” she said.
He pointed to himself, and she nodded.
His button-down shirt was already sitting somewhere on the floor at the barn and his white tee left little to Thandie’s imagination. Even so, her pulse quickened, and her neck muscles tightened behind her ears. He grinned on one side and took hold of the tee’s hem. Grant shimmied the shirt slowly up his torso, teasing her with every inch of exposed skin. The worst part was that he knew what he was doing to her, and she knew that he knew, and liked him for it all the more.
She bit her bottom lip, not because she was incredibly hungry for him, but as an effort to hide the broad smile that was pulling at her cheeks. Grant threw his shirt like a basketball, and she caught it in the bag. She turned away, knowing his cargos were next to come off.
Grant was having far too much fun with this game, and she was about to lose herself in the valleys of his amazing abs if she looked any longer. Yes, turning away from him was the best thing to do, she thought. “Let me know when you’re done taking those off.”
“All done,” he said, and she could tell he was smiling.
Thandie kept her eyes shut tightly and moved toward the sound of his voice echoing off the tile in the bathroom. She held the bag open and felt the weight of his remaining clothes fall in. She backed out, careful of the moist floor beneath her feet, and felt for the door handle. Only after the latch clicked did she open her eyes again.
“You’re cute, you know,” he said from the other side of the door.
“You’re covered with poison, you know.”
She could hear him laughing as the sound of the shower changed from hitting the pan to hitting his skin. Outside, rain began to fall. Soft at first, and then hard, like marbles hitting the roof. The downpour drowned out the sounds from the bathroom altogether, but not the sound of her heart beating against her ribs.
Tying the bag and washing her hands in the sink, a drip of water hit the tip of her nose. Looking at the ceiling peak, she saw another drop. And another. She didn’t want to spend one more minute being wet, or covered with mud, but if the dripping kept up, they would soon be in a bath. She grabbed a mixing bowl from the kitchen and placed it on the floor below the dripping ceiling just as she heard another drop splash into the kitchen sink. Lucky, she thought.
It was obvious the place needed work. Not just Grant’s cabin, but The Foundry as a whole. Leo and America had made their funds stretch farther than the money probably should have, and the barn itself was a stunning spectacle, but the funds could be used for things like roof repair and additional staff. No amount of perfectly planned activities would make up for a guest waking up to a soggy bed or a wet kitchen.
Grant came out of the bathroom like a zombie wearing a gray robe, not unlike the color that his face had turned after seeing the rash earlier. His skin had all the peachy color back in it now, but his eyes were vacant, and his shoulders slumped forward. Making straight for the bed without even looking at her, he flopped in and said, “I feel awful.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s probably the allergy medicine making you feel drowsy. But look,” she said and pointed at his wrist, “it’s working.”
He turned his hand over and back again before collapsing into the pillows piled in front of the whitewashed headboard.
“You were in quite a state of shock at the sight of the rash. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, and you’re all cleaned up, you should sleep.”
“Are you staying?” he asked. His eyes were closed. “I want you to.”
“I shouldn’t. But I don’t have a choice right now.”
His eyes flew open at that moment, though she wasn’t sure if he was responding to what she said about staying, or because of the lightning and peals of thunder outside. The clap was so loud it drowned out the rain pounding on the roof. “I can’t sleep under these conditions,” he said. “The thunder... My mind’s racing and replaying what happened, and you...” His eyes drank her in. “You, looking like that.”
She looked down at herself, wrapped in the robe, and shook her head at him. “Try to sleep,” she said and pointed at the dripping ceiling with the bowl positioned underneath. “And I’ll keep an eye on this.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t get worse,” Grant said and took a calming breath in. “I’m actually feeling better knowing you’re staying with me for now.”
His sentiment was sweet, but she hoped the rain would let up soon. The longer she stayed with Grant, alone in his cabin, and wearing only a robe, the less willpower she would have to not accidentally kiss the man again. “I can call Leo. Maybe there’s something he can do about the roof. Though I doubt it while it’s still raining.”
“No need. I can fix this,” he said and hopped up with all the confidence of a boy wearing a cape—in this case, a robe with a rope belt that he was twirling in the air like a lasso—and walked to the kitchen.
“What are you doing? Sit back down!” Thandie said and reached out to intercept him. “You can’t possibly fix a roof?—”
“I didn’t say I was fixing the roof.” His smirk weakened any resolve that she had left, and she fell to the edge of the bed where Grant had just been. He returned from the kitchen with a split of red wine in one hand and two stemmed glasses hanging from his other and held them up like a man presenting his big catch.
“This is your idea of a fix?” she said and took the bottle from him. “You should drink water, not wine.”
Thandie took the bottle back to the kitchen and filled a glass from the tap for him. He took it, reluctantly, and drank the whole thing to appease her, probably in hopes of getting wine next. She handed him the bottle, partly to see what he would do, and partly because she could use a glass of wine too.
“Pour,” she said.
He opened the bottle and poured an inch into the wineglass.
“I’m really sorry,” Thandie said.
He swirled the rich liquid and held the glass out for her. “Sorry for what?”
“This week has been a total disaster. You were supposed to have a perfect week and all it’s done is rain and rain.”
“I don’t see it that way. Here.” He released the glass into her possession, and she took a sip. “I have had a very nice, albeit unexpected, time so far this week. I’ve biked, and hiked, and stretched, and breathed, and stacked, and soaked, and?—”
“Nearly died.”
Grant scooted next to her on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on her robe-covered knee. “Thandie, look at me. I did not nearly die. I overreacted?—”
“Panicked?”
“Yes, panicked, when I thought I was having an allergic reaction. But I’m fine now.”
“You didn’t look fine, Grant. I was really worried,” Thandie said.
Grant swallowed hard and shifted his eyes to the ceiling and back to her. “I’m sorry I frightened you in that way. Believe me, it was not my intention,” he said with a nervous chuckle through his nose. “You know, I picked flowers for you because I like you very much and I wanted to make you feel special. You’ve spent the last few days making me, and everyone else here, feel that way. And I wanted to say thank you. What happened was in no way your fault. Nor is all the rain.”
“But—”
He put his finger over her lips. “But nothing. You have done your absolute best with what you had to work with. I think you’ll get a fantastic report after this. I mean, all the guests will give wonderful reviews. I know I will.”
Had he really just said he would give a good report? Thandie thought. Grant Goldie was the investor’s scout? She didn’t want to believe it. She was sure it was Daisy and her partner, who seemed to want nothing to do with being there at first. She couldn’t just come out and ask him and risk him thinking she was acting out of self-interest for her job and The Foundry. Even if he wasn’t the spy, it changed nothing about how she felt in that moment. His hand resting heavy on her knee, his warmth radiating off of him...
Grant’s comment had been nothing more than a man attempting to console a friend.
“You really think it’s been a good week so far?”
“I do.”
The way he said those words undid her.
His were the same words she had repeated and practiced out loud before her ill-fated wedding. The words she had imagined Davis saying to her, only now, it wasn’t Davis standing in front of her at the altar in her mind. This strong man, who made her laugh, and pushed her buttons, who was kind and caring and ridiculous, had replaced Davis in the image. Grant was standing before her, in a blue suit, with a yellow flower on his lapel, and smiling, with glistening eyes and rosy lips.
“What is it?” he asked and ripped her from her daydream.
“Nothing, I was just thinking about...” She couldn’t tell him the truth; it would frighten him. She drank some more wine. And more, finishing off the portion that he had poured. She reached across him for the bottle and proceeded to refill her own. Handing him the small bottle, exhausted of its contents, she raised her glass. “To a new friendship, and mostly dry cabins to hunker down in.”
He raised his empty glass and clinked it against hers as thunder boomed and shook the cabin. She flinched, nearly losing control of her drink, but he caught her against his body while steadying her hand that held the wineglass. As he guided her hand towards the end table, the lights flickered off.
She was in no hurry to remove herself from him, but he popped up and left her falling onto the mattress. Across the room, Grant clicked the lighter a few times at the fireplace, and the timber logs caught flame.
“You want something to eat?” he asked, but didn’t wait for her answer. Grant retrieved the plate she had left for him the night before from the fridge. In the glow of the fire, Grant cut up pieces of cold steak and skewered a bit on the end of a long fork. Repeating the action again, he handed the second one to her before grabbing another bottle of wine. “Now it’s a proper meal.”
“This is absurd. We’re eating leftover steak off of a stick, drinking too much red wine, sitting by a fire because the power is out, and the cabin might just fill up with rainwater before morning. This is not a proper meal.”
Grant took her skewer and handed her a glass back. “Drink.”
She did.
The firelight danced in his eyes and reflected the truth to her. It was the most perfect meal she had ever had with him. With anyone. She leaned toward him slowly, testing his reaction to her proximity. If their previous encounters were any indication, he would respond in kind. And he did.
Their lips met. His warm, supple skin, tasting of wine, pressed into her with small rhythmic movements. His hand came around the back of her neck and cradled it the way he had during their first encounter rolling in the mud. A throaty sigh escaped her as she melted into his embrace and wrapped her free arm around his shoulders. For a moment, it was as though every fiber of her being was grafting onto his, and she let it.
The sweet interlude was over too fast. Grant backed away first. “I want to keep kissing you, but we shouldn’t. I don’t think either of us is ready for that.” Lightning flashed and lit the room in bright white, and the thunder clapped again. He took her in his arms until the shaking was done. “It looks like you’re staying the night, though. Can we just talk?”
Thandie was not offended in the slightest. He wanted boundaries, and so did she. “I’d like that.”