Chapter 10
TEN
Grant
Grant should have known better than to agree to game night at Hannigan's.
The bar was packed—friends from high school crammed into booths, the jukebox playing songs that made everyone nostalgic, pitchers of beer flowing freely. Riley sat across from him in the big corner booth, laughing at something Emily said, and Grant couldn't stop staring.
She was wearing dark jeans and a sweater that kept sliding off one shoulder. Every time she laughed, he felt something in his chest, more than thumping.
"You're doing it again," Mark said, nudging him.
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you look at Riley like she's the only person in the room."
Grant took a drink of his beer. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." Mark grinned. "You two are terrible at the whole 'casual dating' thing, by the way. Everyone can tell you're completely gone for her."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Painfully. But it's cute. We're all rooting for you guys."
Before Grant could respond, Riley caught his eye and smiled—soft and real and just for him. His heart stumbled.
He was in so much trouble.
"All right!" Mike called from behind the bar. "Trivia time! Teams of two. Winner gets free drinks for the night."
Everyone scrambled to pair up. Grant stood to claim Riley, but Hannah was already pulling her toward the bar.
"Come on! We've got this!" Hannah said, and Riley laughed, letting herself be dragged away.
Grant ended up with Mark, and they settled in for what was clearly going to be a bloodbath of competition.
"First question!" Mike announced. "What year was Pine Valley founded?"
"1847!" three teams shouted in unison.
"All right, all right. Easy one. Let's get harder. What band released 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' in 1991?" That was an easy one too.
"Nirvana!" Riley called out before anyone else could answer, and Hannah high-fived her.
Grant smiled despite himself. Riley had always been good at trivia—her brain held onto the most random information.
The questions kept coming. Grant and Mark did okay on sports and local history. Riley and Hannah dominated pop culture and music. Chris and Jenna crushed the science questions.
By the time they hit the fifth round, it was clear it was going to come down to Riley and Hannah versus Chris and Jenna.
Grant didn't mind. He was content to watch Riley—the way she bit her lip when she was thinking, the way she bounced in her seat when she got an answer right, the way her whole face lit up when Hannah said something funny.
"You're not even trying anymore," Mark said.
"Sure I am."
"You haven't answered a single question in the last three rounds."
"I've been thinking."
"About Riley."
Grant didn't deny it.
Riley and Hannah won by two points, and the whole booth erupted in cheers. Riley was laughing, accepting high-fives, looking flushed and happy and beautiful, and Grant's heart did that complicated thing again.
He was so gone for her it wasn't even funny.
The bar got louder as more people arrived—Saturday night in Pine Valley meant everyone came out. Grant was helping Mark order another round when he heard a voice that made his spine stiffen.
"Well, well. Riley Monroe. You get more beautiful every time I see you."
Grant turned to see Brad Carlson leaning against their booth—older, softer around the middle, clearly drunk, wearing that same cocky smile that had annoyed Grant in high school.
Riley's expression shifted to carefully neutral. "Brad. Hi."
"Hey there." Brad slid into the booth—into the space Grant had just vacated—sitting way too close to Riley. "Heard you were back in town. Couldn't believe it till I saw you."
"Just for the holidays."
"Shame. Town's better with you in it." Brad's hand landed on the booth behind Riley's shoulders, not quite touching but close enough to make Grant's jaw clench. "You look amazing. City life must be treating you well."
"It's fine."
"Better than fine, looks like." Brad leaned in, his voice dropping. "You seeing anyone? Because I just got back from Denver myself, and I'd love to catch up properly. Maybe grab dinner while you're in town?"
Riley shifted away slightly. "Actually, I'm—"
"Come on. For old times' sake?" Brad's smile turned sly. "We had some fun back in the day, didn't we? Senior year, that party at Miller's farm?"
Grant's hands curled into fists. He didn't remember Riley and Brad ever being a thing, but the way Brad was looking at her—like he had a claim, like they had history—made Grant want to throw something; like a punch to Brad’s face.
"Brad, that was one dance at a party ten years ago," Riley said, her voice tight.
"Still. Best dance of my life." Brad's hand dropped to her shoulder, squeezing. "What do you say? Dinner tomorrow?"
That was enough.
Grant crossed the bar, Mark calling something after him that he didn't hear. He stopped at the booth, and Brad looked up with a lazy smile.
"Lawson. Hey, man. Long time no see."
"Brad." Grant's voice came out flat. "That's my seat."
"Oh, sorry." Brad didn't move. "Just catching up with Riley here. We go way back."
"Do you."
"Sure do." Brad's arm stayed draped behind Riley's shoulders. "Riley and I were just talking about getting dinner. You don't mind, do you? I mean, you two aren't together or anything anymore, right?"
Riley opened her mouth, but Brad kept talking.
"I heard some rumors you two were back together but come on." Brad laughed. "You're not really back together, are you? This is just nostalgia. Holiday fling type thing."
Grant's jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Riley's hand found his, squeezing, but Brad either didn't notice or didn't care.
"It's not a fling," Riley said evenly.
"Sure it's not." Brad leaned closer to her, and Grant saw red. "Look, I get it. You're home for Christmas, feeling sentimental, and good old dependable Grant is here like always. But we all know how this story ends, right?"
"Brad—" Riley started.
"You'll leave after New Year's. Head back to your fancy city job. And Grant stays here, same as always." Brad's smile turned mean. "Same old story. She leaves, you stay. Why are you two even pretending?"
That did it.
Grant didn't think. Didn't plan. He just slid into the booth on Riley's other side, pulled her away from Brad, and cupped her face in his hands.
"Grant—" she started, eyes wide.
He kissed her.
Not a gentle kiss. Not a casual kiss. A claiming, possessive, mine kiss that left no room for doubt or questions or Brad's drunk rambling.
Riley made a small sound of surprise against his mouth, her hands coming up to his chest. For a second, Grant thought he'd miscalculated—gone too far, pushed too hard.
But then she melted into him. Her fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. She kissed him back with the same intensity, the same desperate want, and Grant's world narrowed to just this. Riley in his arms, her mouth on his, and everything else faded to nothing.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, the booth had gone quiet. Their friends were staring—Hannah's mouth hanging open, Mark grinning like an idiot, Emily and Jenna looking delighted.
Grant kept one hand on Riley's face and turned to Brad, whose drink was frozen halfway to his mouth.
"It's real, Brad," Grant said, his voice low and rough. "Any other questions?"
Brad opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head and backed away, mumbling something under his breath as he retreated to the bar.
The booth erupted—whistles, cheers, Mark shouting something about "damn, Lawson!" Hannah and Emily looking absolutely thrilled.
But Grant barely heard them. He was too focused on Riley, whose eyes were wide and dazed, her lips swollen, her face flushed.
"That was—" she began.
"I know."
"You just—"
"I know."
"In front of everyone."
"Yeah." Grant's hand was still on her waist, and he found he couldn't let go. "Was that okay?"
Riley's smile was slow and dangerous. "That was very okay."
The rest of the night passed in a haze Grant could barely track.
He moved back to his original seat, but everything had shifted.
Riley kept catching his eye across the table, her gaze heated and full of promise.
Every time someone made a joke, his hand would find her knee under the table.
Every time she laughed, he felt it in his chest.
Their friends gave them endless shit—good-natured ribbing about "finally" and "about time" and "we all knew it."
"That was quite a show," Jenna said, grinning. "Didn't know you had that in you, Lawson."
"Brad was being an ass," Mark said.
"Brad's always an ass," Emily added. "But damn, Grant. That was smooth."
"Smooth?" Chris laughed. "That was territorial."
"It was hot," Hannah said, and Riley's cheeks went pink.
Grant pulled Riley closer, his arm draped across her shoulders, proprietary and obvious. She leaned into him, her hand resting on his thigh, and a feeling in his chest settled and sparked at the same time.
By the time people started heading out, Grant's entire body was wound tight with want. Every casual touch had felt like a promise. Every look Riley gave him made it harder to think straight.
He walked Riley to her car, neither of them speaking. The parking lot was quieter now, most people already gone, just the distant sounds of the bar and the crunch of snow under their boots.
At her car, Riley turned to face him. "So. That was—"
"I know."
"Brad's an idiot."
"He is."
"But you didn't have to—" She stopped, studying his face. "Actually. Why did you?"
Grant's hand found her waist, pulling her closer. "Because he was talking about you like you weren't standing right there. Like you were some sure thing for him. Like what we had—" He stopped. "Like it didn't matter."
"It was ten years ago."
"I don't care. He had no right. And we are dating.”
Riley's hands slid up his chest. "You got jealous."
"I got protective."
"Same thing."