Page 37 of Dirty Rotten Cheating Husband

Then Grayson and I sat across from each other at the table, neither one eating, as Liam ate with extreme gusto.

“Delicious!” he said, his mouth full of the crispy potato rounds Grayson had made as a side. “I’ve got to run but that was the best breakfast I’ve had in a while.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Grayson said evenly, holding my eyes with his blue ones.

I narrowed mine.

Grayson folded his hands on the table, reaching forward for the hot sauce to put on his omelet. He was so close that his hand brushed mine and I felt a prickling heat along my skin that I hoped was just irritation.

I definitely wanted to eat this omelet, but I didn’t want to encourage him.

Liam, however, had no compunctions as he absolutely destroyed the breakfast Grayson had made.

“I love you,” I told him firmly when he got up to go.

He blew a kiss in my general direction and headed out the door.

“Bro, you can cook for us anytime.”

“He actually put my dad in jail,” I reminded Liam before he got too chummy.

“Babe, you can’t hold onto grudges like that,” Liam said, “it’s bad for your gut health. There’s, like, a pretty powerful Buddhist saying about it.”

I gritted my teeth. Despite explaining what had happened between Grayson and I, he did not seem to get it.

But I wasn’t about to let Grayson see how pissed I was.

“Bye! I love you!” I called again, out the window, just in case Grayson hadn’t had it rubbed in enough yet.

Then I sat down and took a quick bite of the omelet.

Damn, it was good.

“You do not love him,” Grayson said.

“I do,” I said. “Love of my life.”

Not only did Grayson’s jaw look grim and set, but I saw how his hands tightened together on the table. It made me feel slightly more cheerful.

“Let me give you a baby, Clementine,” he said. “Please.”

“You’re going to give yourself lockjaw,” I said cheerfully. “Clenching your jaw like that. So bad for the teeth.”

Admitting to myself that the omelet was too phenomenal to waste, I ate the whole thing and drank two cups of coffee.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” Grayson asked, after we had finished.

“I have to run errands and go to the theater for practice this afternoon. My director broke her ankle skiing, so I have a lot of work to do.”

“All right,” this jackass said. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

My jaw dropped and I clutched my mug of coffee with tight fingers. “What do you mean? This is a children’s play. Practice is going to be very messy and chaotic. Not at all something you’d enjoy.”

“But it sounds like something you’d need help with,” he countered, cocking his head to look at me.

For a beat there was a warmth between my thighs, a memory of the way Grayson looked when he had a task to complete. No complaining. Just analysis of the situation, and the steps he’d need to calmly complete it.

I was always very impressed. Until I realized that I was the task he had to complete.

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