Chapter 16 #2
She drove on, not needing directions. The last time she’d brought him home she’d sworn never again. And here she was just a week and a half later doing the same thing. And gifting him with a book.
What is it about this guy?
She just felt bad for him, that was all. He’d gotten a raw deal. He was misjudged or at the very least the victim of exaggerated
gossip. He didn’t deserve to be talked about and harassed by his peers.
That didn’t really explain why her hands were shaking as she turned the wipers down a notch. Or why butterflies the size of
pelicans fluttered about her stomach.
She gave him a sideways glance. Okay, yes, he was... appealing. Plenty of girls at school gave Gray a once-over when he
passed in the halls. It was the allure of the forbidden. Gray was the town bad boy and certain girls were attracted to that.
Not Shelby though.
The quiet inside the car grew oppressive. She made a right turn as she searched for some neutral topic of conversation. “My
grandma likes the landscaping you did. She’d been wanting to get that done since she opened the shop.”
He sent her a smirk. “Atta girl—a nice safe subject. I knew you’d find one.”
She pressed her lips together. It was downright irritating the way he read her mind sometimes. “What do you want from me?”
“How ’bout something that matters, Sunshine? Tell me something real.”
“You bother me.”
The corner of his lip curled up. “There you go. What else?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you choose the topic since you seem to know what we should be talking about.”
“All right then. How about this—we have something in common, Shelby Thatcher.”
“What? I bother you too?”
He let out a low chuckle. “Well, yes, you do, now that you mention it.”
He made it sound like bothering might be a good thing. A warm flush crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. Thank God it was dark.
“But that’s not what I was referring to.”
And of course, with that leading statement, he just went quiet. She rolled her eyes. Shifted in her seat, suddenly twitchy.
“And...?”
“I was talking about our childhoods. We both grew up without mothers. That’s not exactly common.”
Shelby turned onto his street. Gray’s mother had died in a car accident when he was little, back when his family lived in
Tennessee. They’d moved to be near his grandma because his dad was suddenly raising a young boy alone. “I’m sorry that happened
to you. Children shouldn’t have to grow up motherless. I guess we do have that in common, even if the circumstances are very
different.”
“Because your mom’s still living?”
Maybe or maybe not. “No, because your mom died and my mom chose to leave us.”
“My mom might’ve died in an accident, but she wrecked because she was drunk. So the argument could be made that she had a
choice in the matter.”
Oh. The grapevine had been silent on that one. Shelby’s heart twisted. “I didn’t know that.”
“She and my dad were both alcoholics. They met at AA, which is pretty ironic since alcohol ended up wrecking both their lives.”
All their lives. Gray hadn’t exactly gone unscathed. She could hardly believe he’d brought up the topic. He was such a lone wolf.
He didn’t chat with friends and he certainly didn’t divulge his deepest secrets to girls he hardly knew.
She slowed the car and turned into his grandma’s drive. The lights were off except for the one on the porch. Behind the house, a bloom of green exploded over the lake despite the rain.
She put the car in Park.
He unbuckled his belt and turned to regard her with his steady gaze. “Why’d your mom leave you guys?”
No one had ever asked her that. Maybe because word had quickly spread around town back then so people already knew. “According
to my dad she wanted to be an actress, a big Hollywood star—like that was going to happen. She regretted getting married so
young and getting saddled with kids—my words, not Dad’s.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“You remember her then?”
“Vaguely. She used to make pancakes on Saturday mornings. And she had a really pretty voice. She used to sing to me. And she
smelled like sunshine and cotton. Sometimes I smell her when I’m doing laundry.” The memories, though old and tarnished, put
a knot in her throat. “What about you? Do you remember your mom?”
“Nah.” His hands rested on his thighs. Nice strong hands with squared fingertips. “I was only two when she died. My dad never
stopped loving her though. Did you ever hear from your mom?”
“She sent some postcards when we were younger. I kept them on a corkboard in my room and reread them until I had them memorized.
They had these scenes from California and some generic drivel on the back about what a great time she was having. Like she
was on vacation or something. I kept thinking she’d come home.”
“When did you realize she wouldn’t?”
“I guess when I was about twelve. We hadn’t heard from her in a couple years, and one day I just grabbed every postcard off that board and chucked them in the garbage. I decided then and there if she wasn’t thinking about me, I wasn’t going to waste time pining after her.”
“Adults can sure make some stupid decisions.”
No doubt. And though they’d both grown up without a mom, Shelby had at least had a steady, loving father while Gray’s dad’s
poor choices had landed him in prison.
Childhoods could vary drastically, from idyllic to uneventful to downright traumatic. The playing fields were unlevel, leaving
some children so disadvantaged. Including Gray. The thought planted a dull ache in her chest. “I’m sorry for all you’ve been
through.” She set a hand over his. She’d meant it as a gesture of comfort. But the instant their bodies connected, it turned
to something else.
Their gazes locked in the dimness of the car. She couldn’t make out much. His eyes gleamed in the darkness. Moonlight skated
over his cheekbones, nose, and lips.
He turned his hand over and their fingers wove together, the sensual slide connecting them on levels way beyond the physical
realm. She couldn’t have let go if she tried. Couldn’t tear her eyes from his. Couldn’t breathe. Somehow they were so close
the warmth of his breath whispered across her lips.
“I thought about you while I was reading the book.”
His words sent a shiver up her spine. “What were you thinking?”
His gaze fell to her mouth and lingered there. “I probably shouldn’t say.”
Her lips tingled. She wet them. “I thought we were being real.” Who was this bold creature who’d taken over her tongue? Whoever
she was, Shelby wanted the answer—and she hoped he’d show rather than tell her.
He leaned in by inches. She watched mesmerized as the fringe of his lashes fell.
Their breaths mingled in the space between them, set to the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.
Then their lips met in a soft, sweet brush.
Just one touch made her heart stutter. Squeezed the oxygen from her lungs. Made her want to climb inside him.
And yet, one touch was not nearly enough. She returned the kiss. Their lips moved in a dance that seemed brand-new, as if
the two of them had just discovered kissing. She set her hand against the warmth of his neck. His pulse thrummed against her
palm.
You make Gray Briggs’s heart race. She was heady with the impossible thought.
He cupped her face, angled his head, took control. His touch anchored her in the here and now. Everything else ceased to exist
as she yielded to his mastery. Because, yes, Gray was a master at kissing.
A boy didn’t reach this level of expertise without plenty of experience. She swatted the thought away, wanting to recapture
the oblivion of complete surrender. But the notion nagged like a pesky fly swarming her dinner plate.
Darcy Colbert.
He’d just been with her tonight. Had he kissed her too? And Shelby was also in a relationship. Though thoughts of breaking
up with Brendan had been swirling for days, she hadn’t yet done so. And here she was making out in her car with another boy.
Not just any boy—Gray Briggs. She’d never even known him to be in a committed relationship. What was she doing?
The reality check was unwelcome but persistent. It ushered in awareness of the outside world. The rain pummeling the roof.
The console digging into her ribs. The guilt worming a hole in her gut.
She pressed a hand against his chest. Instantly there was space between them. Ragged breaths. Questioning eyes.
Oh, those half-lidded eyes could suck her right back under if she gave it half a second. “This is a mistake,” she all but
blurted.
He put another few inches between them, still palming her face.
“I—I’m dating someone. And so are you.”
He pinned her with an unswerving look. “She’s not my girlfriend, and that was no mistake. You know it wasn’t.” His thumb swept a path along the curve of her cheek. Their gazes tangled, his eyes smoldering. “Tell him you’re with me now.”
Her heart clenched at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to her. No one had ever looked at her this way. As
if she was everything he’d ever wanted. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
He was everything she’d ever wanted. It wasn’t knowledge gleaned from information or research or even time spent together. It
was a knowing rooted deep within her soul. A connection she’d never shared with another person. And there was only one thing she could say
in response.
“All right.”