Chapter 10 #2
"Maybe." Grant's thumb traced the curve of her hip. "But hearing him talk about you leaving, about us not working—"
"What about it?"
"It made me want to prove him wrong."
Riley's breath caught. "And kissing me in front of everyone does that?"
"Kissing you in front of everyone shows everyone—including Brad—that you're not some temporary thing. That this—" He gestured between them. "Isn't something I take lightly."
"Even though it's fake?"
The question hung between them, loaded with everything they weren't saying.
Grant's hand cupped her face. "That kiss didn't feel fake to me."
"No," Riley whispered. "It really didn't."
"I know we said—I know the deal—"
"Grant."
"Yeah?"
"Stop talking and kiss me again."
So he did.
This time it was slower, deeper. No audience, no point to prove. Just them in the cold parking lot, the snow starting to fall again, everything else fading away.
Riley's back hit her car, and Grant pressed closer, his hands sliding into her hair. She made a soft sound against his mouth, and it undid him. He groaned. His hands found the curve of her waist, sliding under her coat, and Riley gasped.
"Grant—"
"Too much?"
"Not enough."
He kissed her harder, deeper, years of wanting pouring into it. Riley's hands were everywhere—his shoulders, his chest, sliding under his jacket. When her fingers found the hem of his shirt, Grant groaned against her mouth.
"We're in a parking lot," he managed.
"I know."
"Anyone could see."
"I don't care."
Grant pulled back just enough to look at her—lips swollen, eyes dark, cheeks flushed from the cold and wanting. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"We should stop," he said, even though stopping was the last thing he wanted.
"Probably."
But neither of them moved. Riley's fingers traced the line of his jaw, just grazing his stubble, and Grant turned his face into her palm, kissing it.
"Sorry," Riley said finally, her laugh breathless. "Got carried away there."
"Don't apologize. Brad deserved it."
"He did, didn't he?" Riley's smile turned playful. "You really shut him down."
"That was the goal."
"Mission accomplished." She was quiet for a moment, then said, "You know, you weren't lying."
"About what?"
"About being a better kisser now." Her eyes held his. "You really, really weren't lying."
Grant's laugh was rough. "I've had ten years to think about kissing you again. Had to make it count."
"Oh, it counted."
They stood there, neither wanting to break the moment. Riley's hands were still fisted in his jacket, Grant's arms locked around her waist.
"I should go," Riley said finally, though she made no move to step back.
"Yeah."
"It's late."
"It is."
"And if I don't leave now, I'm going to do something stupid."
Grant's pulse kicked up. "Like what?"
"Like ask if I can come home with you."
His grip on her tightened. "That would be stupid."
"Terrible idea."
"My dad's probably still awake."
"Probably."
"And we're supposed to be taking it slow. That’s what we told everyone."
"We are terrible at taking it slow."
Grant pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her in. "Riley."
"I know. I know." She pulled back, her eyes searching his. "Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow what?" The hopeful tingle in his gut would’ve said yes regardless.
"Can I see you tomorrow?"
"You can see me whenever you want."
"Your farm's going to be crazy. It's almost Christmas."
"I'll make time."
Riley rose up on her toes and kissed him one more time—quick and sweet and full of promise. "Goodnight, Grant."
"Goodnight."
She climbed into her car, and Grant stepped back, hands shoved in his pockets to keep from reaching for her again.
He watched her drive away, her taillights disappearing into the snowy night.
Then he stood there for a long moment, breathing in the cold air, trying to get his head straight.
That kiss had changed everything.
He'd meant it to shut Brad up. To stake a claim. To show everyone—including Riley—that she wasn't some temporary thing to him.
But somewhere in the middle of it, when Riley had kissed him back with that same desperate want, when her hands had fisted in his shirt like she was afraid to let go, when she'd pressed against him in the parking lot like she couldn't get close enough—
He'd forgotten they were supposed to be faking.
Forgotten there was an audience.
Forgotten everything except the way she felt in his arms.
Grant climbed into his truck and sat there for a minute, hands on the wheel, staring at nothing.
Brad had been right about one thing. Riley was leaving after New Year's. She had a job in the city. A life there. She'd always planned to go back.
But what if she didn't have to?
What if Grant gave her a reason to stay?
Not through fake dating. Not through pretending. Through being real. Through showing her what they could be if she gave them a chance.
He'd spent ten years wondering what might have been. Ten years playing it safe, staying in his lane, not rocking the boat.
Maybe it was time to stop wondering.
Maybe it was time to fight for what he wanted.
And what he wanted—what he'd always wanted—was Riley Monroe.
Grant started the truck and drove home, a plan forming in his mind.
He had two weeks. Two weeks until New Year's, until this fake dating arrangement ended, until Riley went back to the city.
Two weeks to show her that what they had was worth staying for.
Two weeks to win her over.
For real this time.
He was done pretending. Done holding back. Done playing it safe.
Grant Lawson was going to win back the girl he'd never stopped loving.
And he was going to start tomorrow.