Page 47 of Just Let Go

Grady shut the light off in the kitchen and came up beside her. “What are you doing?”

She let the sheet fall to the ground. “I’m making your bed—what does it look like I’m doing?” She kept her tone light, feeling a surprising kindness toward him.

He set his water down and she went back to spreading the sheet. Seconds later, his hand was on her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.”

She turned—slightly—toward him. “I don’t mind. I’d rather have you on my couch than walking home—or worse, driving—in your current state.” She glanced up and found his eyes on her, an oddly serious expression on his face.

“Thanks,” he said.

“My father thinks you’re redeemable.”

He watched her, still touching her arm, his large hand making her feel small. “What do you think?”

His eyes held sadness, maybe even deep pain, the kind she wassure he rarely let show through. She held his gaze for several seconds but didn’t respond.

“Never mind,” he said. “Don’t answer that.” He let his hand slide down toward hers, then picked up the sheet she was holding. He slung it sloppily over the couch, then picked up the pillow and threw it down. “There. Perfect.”

“You can’t sleep on it like that.”

“Does it bother you that it’s not neatly tucked?”

Maybe.

She said nothing, but bent over and tugged at the corners, making the makeshift bed a little neater.

Behind her, he laughed. “I really can’t figure you out.”

She stood upright and faced him. “You said that already.”

“You can’t figure me out either. Don’t pretend you can.”

She narrowed her gaze and stepped forward. “You’re not that hard to figure out, Grady.” Though she had to admit, tonight had her rethinking a few of her perceptions of him. “You like fast cars, fast women, and anything that puts you in danger.”

He looked like he was about to say something but snapped his jaw shut.

“You’re such a cliché.” She shook her head and turned to go back to the sheets, but he moved between her and the couch.

“Don’t get mean again on me now.” His smile was lazy, his eyes flashing mischief. Whatever serious moment they’d almost had a minute ago was long gone, and the slightly drunk, not remotely serious version of Grady Benson had returned.

“I’m not mean,” she said, picking up the pillow.

“You get all flustered and your cheeks turn pink.” He grabbed the end of the pillow and tugged on it, pulling her closer to him, still wearing that smirk. “It’s kind of cute.”

She tugged back, but his grip was solid, and instead of putting the desired distance between them, she stumbled forward and straight into his brick wall of a body. As if it was what he expectedall along, his hand steadied her, but before she could pull away, he leaned in closer and kissed her.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough to elevate her heart rate and plenty of time for her to notice how soft and full Grady’s lips were.

And that he knew how to kiss a woman.

She pulled back, pillow still in her hand, scanning him for any sign of regret. She found none.

Instead, he looked perfectly comfortable with what had just happened even though it was highly inappropriate and had sent her insides tumbling around in ways she would never admit out loud.

“You need to sleep whatever this is off.” She tossed the pillow onto the couch. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

But as she lay in her bed on the other side of the partition, she couldn’t help but touch her lips, the memory of his kiss still playing at the corners of her mind.

CHAPTER

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