Page 32 of Her Pretty Words

I feel myself blanch.

“So…” Elliot changes the subject. “Where are you from?” he shoots that question toward Grayson since he already knows us.

I feel his arm flex for a moment before it relaxes. “Fort Meyers.”

“Oh, so not far from here.” Sarah says.

“Where are you guys from?” Grayson says, as if he’s trying to get the attention off himself.

“We’re all from here. Well, except Macy. Technically she’s from Idaho but she’s just as much from here as we are. She lived here during the summers. We grew up together, actually,” Sarah says. “Oh, and you have such a nice house by the way. Most of the ones here aren’t modern like yours. What do you do for aliving?” Sarah’s conversation style gives me whiplash with every direction it goes.

Grayson talks a little bit about his job, and once he’s finished, Sarah says, “Macy is an author.”

He slowly turns to me with a grin. “No kidding.”

“Yup,” I say, since he clearly knows this already, and I’m not fond of Sarah trying to play wing woman. She means well though. “I’m going to flip the burgers,” I say, about to stand.

“I’ve got it.” Grayson gets to his feet by using his ginormous hand to hoist himself up on my knee.

Sarah and Elliot start talking among themselves, so I take the opportunity to watch Grayson flip the burgers. He’s wearing all dark colors, making him look like a storm cloud. Wispy pieces of hair are sticking out from his hat, and his toned arms flex as he works the burgers. He’s all rigid and sharp lines, making everything about him masculine. He closes the grill, forcing my gaze on his hands. I can feel his phantom touch against my torso, his palm taking up most of the space.

His eyes immediately shoot to mine, as if he could hear my thoughts. Something about the way he’s watching me feels intimate, as if he’s running those hands across my skin and memorizing the dips and curves of my body.

Fire creeps into my cheeks and I look away, realizing Sarah is watching. Suddenly she’s standing up grabbing my hand. “Let us know when the burgers are ready,” she says.

I’m unable to protest when she tugs me down the porch steps and toward the shore. Once we are far enough that the boys can’t hear, she says, “No judgment here…but are you cheating on your fiancé with Dracula?”

“No!” I say defensively.

Sarah holds her hands in the air. I sigh, sitting down in the sand and bringing my knees to my chest. Sarah does the same. “I’m not engaged anymore. I broke it off.” I tell her about the textI sent to Walter and the conversation we had over video chat, and then I find myself spilling everything he’s ever done wrong.

“Screw that man. Wait no…” She looks around, considering her words for a moment. “Boy,” she corrects. “I think this vacation is exactly what you need.” She turns around and I follow her line of sight to Grayson, who’s sitting across from Elliot. His hands move while he talks, and it brings a sense of pride to see him break out of his shell.

Sarah grins at me. “Maybe you need a steamy fling with Dracula.”

I laugh. “Never.”

“Can I give you some advice?”

I nod.

“I wouldn’t be too quick to shoot down whatever is happening between you and Grayson. That brooding vampire looks at you like he’sobsessed.” She stands and says, “I think you could use some of that right now.” She winks, then walks back to our small group, her short hair bouncing as she goes up the steps.

I hoist myself up, wiping the sand off my butt and rinsing my hands in the water. Remembering Grayson’s lack of dishes, I make a quick trip to my house to grab two extra plates.

I notice a new chair on Grayson’s back deck, one of his barstools. He brought it outside so we wouldn’t have to share the seat. The three seem to be falling into easy conversation. Sarah is laughing at something Grayson says, and I can’t help but realize how natural he fits in. Like he’s been the missing link in our group all along.

When I’m within reach, I hand him the extra dishes. The four of us eat and talk easily, and I find myself laughing more than I have in a long time.

Once we finish, I take all the plates to Grayson’s sink and wash them. He follows me inside shortly after, grabs a dirty dishand takes the sponge from my hand. He starts scrubbing, so I open his dishwasher to unload it, but there are only two mugs, a bowl, and a spoon. “Wow, you’ve really been living it up,” I tease, grabbing the dishes and opening cabinets until I find the appropriate ones where they belong.

The sliding glass door squeaks open, followed by Elliot’s voice. “Hey, Macy, do you remember when you and I won Manhunt and Sarah pushed me off my grandma’s dock?”

I let out a laugh. “She was never good at losing.”

“No one isgoodat losing,” she recalls. “I want a rematch.”

“Bring it on, Presley.” Elliot says, calling her by her maiden name like he did when we were kids.

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