Page 30 of New Girl in Town
“What’s not fair?”
“You don’t even have to touch me to make me stupid. You’re like a supervillain.”
I gave him a wicked grin and leaned forward, reaching for him, but he danced just out of reach. “Oh, what’s the matter? Not so fun when you get a taste of your own medicine?”
“You’re evil,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing the door to shut it, “but I love it.”
I laughed at the pained expression on his face and watched as he shut the door and rounded the truck. Grant wasn’t just handsome. He was beautiful. And he looked at me with a desire I hadn’t known in years.
How was this real life?
I wasn’t supposed to find the easy type of friendship and attraction I had with a man who looked like this.
But why not?
Why couldn’t I find something good with a man who was gentle and funny, but lit my fire? When had I come to expect less than what I wanted, but the thing that scared me about Grant was he seemed too good to be true. What I expected out of a relationship and what I figured he expected couldn’t be the same.
What if I gave him a chance and fell for him? What if I let the attraction I felt pulling between us work its magic only to fall flat on my face when Grant decided he didn’t want something serious?
“What are you staring at?”
He slid into the truck and I jumped at his sudden question. I’d been so lost in my own head that I hadn’t noticed him even opening the door.
“You,” I replied, not even bothering to lie. “You’re pretty.”
Grant flushed and turned the key with a jerk of his hand, but he couldn’t hide the pleased smile on his face. “Like I said. You’re the worst kind of supevillian, sweetheart.”
* * *
“You owe me ice cream,”Grant told me as we walked out of the furniture boutique we had spent the better part of the afternoon in while I took careful stock of every item that caught my interest. I wouldn’t have thought to look in the tucked-away shop, but Grant had proven just how useful he could be, even if he was sinfully distracting, when he led me to the treasure trove of a spot filled to the brim with furniture and art stacked as far and as high as the eye could see.
Between the cozy soft couch made of teal suede and the vintage chandelier that screamed ruination, I didn’t know where to look.
It was heaven.
And Grant had been along for every find, which made the day sweeter. He’d been nothing but supportive and indulgent while I wandered the store considering this and that, carrying whatever I tossed at him and telling me it was going to look great wherever I wanted to put said item. The pile in his arms had grown so heavy that he’d tapped out and recruited the use of a flatbed trolley to lug around my soon-to-be purchases.
I knew we were a comical sight, me skipping from excitement in the store and him pulling the trolley like a little red wagon behind us.
It was a lot of fun, the most I’d had in a long time, but all of it almost ended when a random customer, a man who gave Grant a pained look had muttered, “Are you really letting her get all of that girly shit?” in a voice equal parts horrified and condescending. I felt a finger of anxiety that I hadn’t known since I’d walked out on Dylan stir in my belly.
I glanced around, wondering if everyone else thought the same thing when they saw us. Was I annoying Grant? I had been having a ball, but had he?
My eyes cut to Grant to see that the smile he’d sported whenever I’d glanced his way had disappeared, a stern look in its place. He crossed his arms, stepping around the trolley until he stood beside me, giving the man a look of open hostility.
“I’m notlettingher do anything,” he said, voice edged like a knife sliding across flint. “She’s a grown woman. If she wants it, she buys it. I lug it around behind her because it makes her happy.”
The man had blinked and jerked back before scoffing. “Yeah, you’re pussy whipped, man.”
My mouth dropped open in shock.
Grant scowled. “Take that toxic shit out of here now,” he said, jerking his chin at the door. When the man opened his mouth to speak again, his chest puffing up in that way angry people had about them when posturing, I stepped close to Grant. I couldn’t help it.
Grant didn’t miss it. He glanced at me, eyes sharp before they flicked back to the man, and he added another “now.” That was twice in as many minutes, which had to spell out nothing but bad things for where the situation was headed. It had to be, the way it made the man scamper away with a blustery “Whatever.”
I didn’t usually like men who growled and stood over me, or I hadn’t thought I did. But maybe I could change my mind on that matter. It made me feel safe, grounded. I turned toward him with a relieved sigh.
“Thank you,” I told him, feeling grateful but also embarrassed at the sudden display of hostility by the man stomping out of the store.
