Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Riley
Riley woke up to sunlight streaming through her childhood bedroom window and her entire body humming with want.
Not ideal.
She stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling—the same ones that had been there since she was fourteen—and tried very hard not to think about Grant's hands. Or his mouth. Or the way he'd looked at her in his truck last night before her dad had interrupted them with a spotlight.
She failed spectacularly.
This is fine. This is totally fine.
Except it wasn't fine. Because yesterday she'd had sex with Grant in a barn, then made out with him at the tree lighting where Mrs. Ames caught them, then climbed into his lap in his truck in her parents' driveway where her father caught them.
All in one day.
Riley pressed her hands to her face and groaned.
What was she doing? What were they doing?
Her phone sat on the nightstand, taunting her with last night's text exchange.
Riley grabbed the phone and stared at the messages, her stomach already fluttering and she hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet.
This was supposed to be fake dating. Simple. Clean boundaries.
Instead, she'd spent yesterday having the best sex of her life followed by being unable to keep her hands off him in public.
Okay. New plan. This is vacation sex.
The thought crystallized with sudden clarity.
That's all this is. Vacation sex. It doesn't count.
She was home for the holidays. Grant was here. They had chemistry—clearly, abundantly, can't-keep-their-clothes-on chemistry. But it didn't mean anything beyond that.
She was leaving after New Year's. Going back to the city, back to her job, back to her real life.
This was just... a holiday fling. Stress relief. Two adults enjoying each other while she was in town.
Vacation sex didn't count. Everyone knew that.
The fact that her chest tightened at the thought of leaving? Irrelevant.
Riley threw off the covers and headed for the shower, trying to convince herself she believed her own logic.
By the time she made it downstairs, her entire family was already in the kitchen. Her mom stood at the stove making pancakes, her dad sat at the table reading the paper with a suspiciously amused expression, and Lily was scrolling through her phone with a grin that meant trouble.
"Morning, sweetheart," her mom said without turning around. "Sleep well?"
"Fine."
"Really? Because you came in pretty late last night."
Riley poured coffee with shaking hands. "It wasn't that late."
"Late enough for your father to go check on you." Her mom's voice was far too innocent.
Riley's face went hot. "Can we not—"
"I was just making sure you were safe," her dad said, still not looking up from his paper. "Truck in the driveway. Lights off. Windows fogged. Any responsible parent would investigate."
"Dad—"
"Though I have to say, Grant Lawson has excellent reflexes. I've never seen someone sit up that fast."
Lily choked on her orange juice, laughing.
"This is not funny," Riley said.
"It's a little funny," Lily managed between giggles. "The great Riley Monroe, caught making out in a truck like a teenager."
"We weren't—" Riley stopped. There was no point in lying. "Can we please change the subject?"
"Of course." Her mom turned, spatula in hand, smile warm. "How is Grant?"
"He's fine."
"He seems happy. You both do."
"We're just—" Riley stopped herself before saying "fake dating." "Taking it slow."
All three of them looked at her.
"What?" Riley demanded.
"Nothing," her dad said. "Just that 'slow' might not be the word I'd use."
"I'm going to die," Riley muttered into her coffee.
"Oh, stop." Her mom slid a plate of pancakes in front of her. "We're happy for you. Both of you. It's nice seeing you smile again."
Riley's throat went tight. "Thanks, Mom."
"That said," her mom sat down across from her, "maybe keep the truck activities to locations that aren't directly in front of our house?"
"Oh my god."
"I'm just saying. Your father has very good aim with that flashlight."
Riley buried her face in her hands while her family laughed.
She escaped after breakfast, claiming she needed to run errands. Really, she just needed air and space to think.
The Pine Valley Market was busier than usual for a weekday morning—holiday shopping in full swing, everyone stocking up for Christmas. Riley grabbed a cart and tried to keep her head down.
She made it approximately two aisles before running into Jenny Miller at the checkout.
"Riley! I heard about last night!"
Riley's stomach dropped. "You did?"
"The tree lighting! You and Grant looked so cute together." Jenny's smile was genuine, not gossipy. "Mrs. Patterson saw you two by the hot chocolate stand. She said it was very sweet."
"Oh. That's—thanks."
"Everyone's talking about how happy you both look. It's really nice."
Riley managed a smile and paid for her things, then practically sprinted for the exit.
Everyone's talking.
Of course they were. This was Pine Valley. Mrs. Ames had probably told half the town by now.
In the parking lot, Riley sat in her car, gripping the steering wheel.
This was fine. People were supposed to think they were dating. That was the whole point of the fake relationship.
Except it didn't feel fake anymore.
It felt terrifyingly real.
Her phone buzzed.
Grant: You busy today?
Riley stared at the message, her pulse kicking up.
Riley: Why?
Grant: Want to see you.
Four words. Simple. Direct. Making her entire body go warm.
Riley: When?
Grant: Now?
Riley bit her lip, torn between wanting to see him and knowing she should probably create some distance, get her head straight.
Her fingers made the decision before her brain could catch up.
Riley: Where?
Grant: Barn. Dad's at the hardware store for the next hour.
Riley's face heated. The barn. Where they'd had sex yesterday morning.
She should say no. Should make an excuse. Should absolutely not drive straight to his farm.
Riley: Be there in 10.
She tossed her phone in the passenger seat and started the car, already breaking her own rules.
Vacation sex. That's all this is. It doesn't mean anything.
She repeated it like a mantra the entire drive.
Grant was waiting in the barn when she arrived, leaning against the workbench in jeans and a flannel that should not be as attractive as it was.
"Hey," he said, his eyes tracking her as she walked in.
"Hey." Riley's heart was pounding. "What did you want to see me about?"
"You."
"That's not an answer."
"Sure it is." Grant pushed off the workbench and crossed to her. "I wanted to see you. That's the answer."
Riley's breath caught as he stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell sawdust and soap and him.
"We saw each other last night," she said, her voice not quite steady.
"I know."
"And yesterday morning."
"I remember."
"So why—"
Grant cupped her face and kissed her, cutting off whatever rational thought she'd been trying to form.
Riley melted into him immediately, all her careful distance evaporating. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, and Grant made a sound low in his throat that sent heat pooling through her.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he murmured against her mouth.
"Grant—"
"Tell me you haven't been thinking about me too."
Riley couldn't. Because she had been. All morning. All night. Constantly.
"This is crazy," she breathed.
"I know."
"We just saw each other."
"I know that too."
"We're supposed to be—" Fake dating. Keeping boundaries. Not doing this.
But Grant's hands were sliding up her back, and Riley's brain was going offline.
"Supposed to be what?" Grant asked, his mouth finding her neck.
"I don't remember."
His laugh was rough and warm against her skin. "Good."
Riley pulled his face back to hers, kissing him harder, deeper. Grant's hands gripped her hips, and she was already reaching for the hem of his shirt when the sound of a truck pulling into the driveway made them both freeze.
"Your dad?" Riley asked, breathless.
Grant glanced at his watch. "He said an hour."
"It's been twenty minutes."
"I'm aware."
They stood there, both breathing hard, staring at each other.
"We have terrible timing," Riley said.
"The absolute worst."
The truck door slammed outside. Grant stepped back, running a hand through his hair, looking as frustrated as Riley felt.
"Tonight?" he asked.
"What about tonight?"
"Can I see you?"
Riley knew she should say no. Should create space. Should stop doing this thing where they couldn't keep their hands off each other.
"Yes," she heard herself say.
Grant's smile was slow and devastating. "Good."
Thomas appeared in the barn doorway, arms full of lumber. "Grant! Need a hand with—oh. Riley. Hi."
"Hi, Mr. Lawson."
Thomas's eyes gleamed with amusement as he took in their flushed faces, Grant's messed-up hair. "Am I interrupting?"
"No," they said in unison.
"Right. Of course not." Thomas set down the lumber. "Riley, you staying for lunch?"
"I should actually go. I have—things."
"Family things?" Grant asked, echoing her excuse from yesterday.
"Exactly. Family things."
Grant walked her to her car, neither of them speaking until they were out of Thomas's earshot.
"Tonight," Grant said again. "Seven?"
"Where?"
"I'll figure something out." He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. "Somewhere we won't be interrupted."
Riley shivered despite the cold. "Okay."
"Okay."
She climbed into her car before she could do something stupid like kiss him again in broad daylight with his father fifty feet away.
As she drove home, Riley's hands were shaking on the wheel.
Vacation sex. Just vacation sex. It doesn't count.
But the way her heart was racing? The way she couldn't stop smiling?
That felt a lot like it counted.
Riley spent the afternoon trying to be productive. She wrapped Christmas presents, helped her mom prep for tomorrow's dinner, and absolutely did not check her phone every five minutes.
She failed at that last one.