Page 18 of Scoring Grey

“An heiress with a simple life. If anyone could pull that off, it would be you.”

I furrow my brow and drop my gaze. We have so much to talk about that there’s no good place to start, but telling him I don’t have the money he thinks I do seems like as good a place as any other. “I’m not an heiress anymore.”

“Hilarious, Eloise. You get along with your parents just fine. I don’t believe they took away your trust fund for one second.”

“You’re right. They didn’t. I transferred mine to Iverson.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay… what money are you living off of?”

“I work.”

“Where?”

“For my dad. I realize I don’t look the part, but I paint boats.”

“You paint boats?” he questions slowly.

“Yes, inside and out. Plus, I seal the wood.”

He rubs the spot between his eyes.

“Is it really that hard to believe?” I ask, somewhat disheartened by his response.

“No.” He shakes his head. “You painting boats actually makes perfect sense. I can picture you in a cute pair of jean overalls spraying walls.” His eyes settle on mine. “Why haven’t you taken my money?”

“I haven’t taken it because I don’t need it. It’s your money. Your blood, sweat, and tears earned every penny, not mine. If I needed it, I’d take it. We aren’t married. When Adler is with you, you pay for things. When he is with me, I pay for things. It’s fair.”

He subtly shakes his head and presses his lips together in a thin line. He’s biting back words.

“What is it? Don’t keep things to yourself because you think you might hurt me. We have to communicate for this to work.”

His fingers aimlessly fiddle with mine. “You don’t have to do this alone. You’ve never had to do it alone.”

“I know what I chose.” I open my mouth to say more but think better of it. It’s late, he hasn’t been to sleep yet, and I’m partially awake.

His eyes are downcast on our fingers when he asks, “Was I really that bad?”

I put my hand on top of his and squeeze hard. “You’ve never been bad. Cal, we were so young. I wanted to be your first pick, not something you got stuck with?—”

“I wanted to be stuck with you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ve ever wanted you to do was take my heart, every fucking piece. I’ve never understood any of this. I know that heart inside of you beats for me.”

The organ inside of my chest pounds wildly. He’s saying all the right things, more than most men ever would. My eyes leave our hands, only to find his on mine.

“Are you scared of what you might find? Scared that everything you never thought I could be has been right here all along.”

“Cal, I?—”

“Don’t answer that. I know all of this is more than that, but I don’t plan on wasting any of the time you’re giving me not telling you exactly what I feel.” I pull in an anxious breath, and he says, “While we’re on the subject of time, I have to leave tomorrow night. We have two games in Boston. What are the chances of you coming with me?”

The earthly glow of his amber eyes, even in the dim light of my room, makes saying anything but yes hard as hell, but I blink away the fog and find my senses. “Doesn’t the team fly down on the team plane?”

“Yes, but I can buy you a ticket and you can meet me there.”

“And what about the hotel? Aren’t there curfews and room checks?”

He scoots a little. “Who said you’d be in my room?”

My cheeks heat from my assumption. “That’s not what I was getting at.” I try to play off my flippant comment.

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