Page 15 of Mismatched Mates

"You know, Elston, you're not quite the insufferable jerk I pegged you for initially," I said, surprising myself with the admission.

Grant's eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Why do I get the feeling that’s high praise, coming from you?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "Don't let it go to your head. I said 'not quite.'"

As Grant chuckled, I felt a pleasant warmth spreading through me, and I wasn't entirely sure it was just from the wine. I took another sip, acutely aware of how the alcohol might be softening my judgment. But I had to admit, despite his arrogance, Grant had me feeling more alive than I had in years.

"So, tell me," I said, leaning forward slightly, "what's it like growing up as Pine River royalty? All that power and privilege at your fingertips?"

Grant's expression shifted, a flicker of something—vulnerability?—passing over his features before he masked it with a casual shrug. "It has its perks, I suppose. But it's not all fancy cars and VIP treatment."

"Oh? Do enlighten me on the trials and tribulations of the wealthy and influential."

He met my gaze, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the weight behind those gray eyes. "Who was it that said, "‘with great power comes great expectations?’ And sometimes, those expectations can be... suffocating."

I felt a twinge of sympathy, quickly squashed by my pragmatic side. I'd learned the hard way that privilege often came hand-in-hand with arrogance, and I wasn't about to let my guard down completely, no matter how many glasses of wine he plied me with. But curiously, I found myself actually believing him. Or at least, wanting to.

Grant reached for the wine bottle, tilting it with practiced ease as he refilled my glass.

“Don’t even think about trying anything; I’m sharing my location.”

He chuckled, low and warm. "Wouldn’t dream of it—besides, it's not like you're driving home tonight, given your little fender bender earlier.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"I've been called worse. Quite often, actually," Grant replied, his grin widening.

"Oh, you ass," I retorted, but there was no real heat behind it.

“What areyougoing to do, run?”

“Nah.” He tipped his glass against mine. “I have a car.”

“If you think you’re going to drive home, I’m going to zip-tie you to that chair until you sober up.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how they sounded.

His gaze heated, and a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine. “Kinky,” he said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk that I definitely hated.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and unexpected arousal. “Pretty sure it’s only kinky if I enjoy it,” I managed, but my usual sharp retort felt dulled by the intensity of his gaze.

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of wine and unexpected attraction. Reaching for my purse, I fumbled for my wallet, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

"I should go," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "The boys?—"

"Itisgetting late. Can I offer you a ride home?"

"I don't know... I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Come on," he coaxed, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. "What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't see you home safely?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t keep the corners of my mouth from twitching. "Fine. But no funny business, got it?"

Deciding it was safer not to accept his hand up, I slid my chair back and got to my feet, matching him. Or at least, I would’ve done if he didn’t have a good six inches on me.

“How are you dealing with two bear cubs alone?”

“They’re definitely… energetic.” Despite the occasional shenanigans, out of everything in my life, my boys are the best part. The light, the joy, the reason I’d worked so hard to hold all the threads of our lives together when Jason left. “But they’re the best. I couldn’t imagine my life without them.”

Grant’s smile twisted, “They sound wonderful," he said when I finished. He looked like he wanted to say more but then he tugged his phone from his pocket and tapped out a short text before smoothly producing a sleek metal credit card. "Let me get this. Consider it a Sentinel expense."

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