Page 5 of Deceiving Grier

We, and Lana, had become good friends over the past years. It was strange to think about them not being a part of my everyday life when school ended and I went back home to Wisconsin. My insides knotted, and I pushed the thoughts away.

It was still only September. I had months before I had to worry about leaving The Square.

The chime over the door rang out, and I looked up to see Tyler Innes pushing past the glass door. My stomach swooped at the sight of the other man. I hadn’t seen him all summer, and he looked better than I remembered.

He was a grad student, and I’d met him my first year when we’d both volunteered on a committee raising money for trans rights. I’d been half in love with him ever since.

He was the complete opposite of Sawyer Banks, the anti-Sawyer. Where Sawyer’s hair was dark and unkempt, brushing his collar, Tyler’s was light, neatly trimmed and carefully styled. Tyler’s eyes were a warm, almost golden hazel compared to Sawyer’s chilly, assessing blue. Even the way they dressed was completely different. Sawyer’s clothes had been casual, rumpled and dishevelled, while Tyler, though dressed casually, still looked stylish, his clothes expensive, probably designer.

While the fact that I was mentally comparing the two men felt oddly disconcerting, seeing my reaction to Tyler hadn’t changed since I’d last seen him was reassuring, somehow.

“I guess I’ll leave this one to you,” Bailey said, and I didn’t have to look to know their mouth would be curled in a wry, knowing smile.

“Hey,” I said, when Tyler came up to the counter, my face heating for no reason. “What can I get you?”

“A large mocha.” He grinned, and my face burned hotter. Had the man somehow gotten more attractive over the summer?

“Sure,” I said, and turned away to make his coffee. Never in my life had I wished I could be more like Jett than I did at that moment. He never had any trouble coming up with something flirty or charming or clever to say, flashing a coy smile that had men practically falling at his feet.

I imagined myself trying to smile at Tyler like that and cringed. I would look ridiculous. And I couldn’t think of anything to say to the man, never mind trying to come up with flirty or clever.

Say something. Talk to him. Ask him a question, at least.

“I didn’t see you around over the summer,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at Tyler. Better than awkward silence, but not much.

He leaned against the counter. “My parents have a place in Montana. I spent most of my summer there and escaped the tourists.”

Saltwater Cove was a beach town, and in the summer the population essentially quadrupled. Oceanwind Square wasn’t immune. Just like the rest of the town, vacationers flooded the area. I didn’t hate it, though. I loved the energy, the people. Maybe after growing up in a sedate small town where everyone knew everyone, the waves of strangers rolling through the street were exciting for me.

“You stayed all summer?” he asked.

I nodded. My only other option would have been to go back to my parents’ house and work for the family business all summer, which is exactly what my father wanted. I had my whole life for that though, so I’d lied and said I needed to stay, or I would lose my job here at the cafe. My father hadn’t been thrilled, but he was pragmatic enough to know that I would need this job.

“I heard about your house,” Tyler said. I didn’t bother reading anything into him knowing about the fire. Everyone in The Square knew. Hell, the remains of our house were just across the street. If I went to the window, I would be able to see the place where our home for the past three years had been. “That sucks, man, but it looks like you traded up?”

I frowned and glanced back at him. “What?”

“Well, now you guys are living in Oliver Mackenzie’s house. You traded up.”

I dropped my gaze back to what I was doing and didn’t reply. Thinking of the fire that destroyed everything we owned, that nearly killed Alistair, as a means of trading up turned my stomach. I focused my attention on fixing the plastic lid on his coffee.

“Here you go,” I said, and set the coffee on the counter at the same time he reached for it. His long tapered fingers brushed the back of my hand. Somehow, I managednotto jerk my hand back, but only because I worried I might knock the hot drink over him.

When he didn’t pull his hand back but left it sandwiching mine between his palm and the cup—his hand nearly as warm as the heat seeping from the paper cup—I looked up and met his dark gaze.

“If you noticed I wasn’t around this summer, does that mean you missed me?”

A slow, sultry smile curled his lips, and something fluttered low in my stomach. My mouth turned dry.

Say something. Something flirty, charming, clever.

“$5.70.”

His grin faded, a frown clouding his features. “What?”

My face burned as if it was on fire. “Uh, for the coffee.”

“Right.” He lifted his hand, freeing mine. I let it fall to my side while he dug out his wallet and tossed a few bills onto the counter.

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