Page 53 of Something Borrowed

She lifted her head and studied him, the firelight casting shadows on his face. “I would have thought you would be the first to say that, considering how you live in the moment.”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

His taciturn reply was so uncharacteristic that she questioned her decision to stay. After several moments, she said, “You know, I was dreading this week.”

He lifted his head and looked at her. “Why?”

“I don’t think I’ve taken a single vacation since I started. And now, we’re working on this huge deal. I’m up for a promotion, and things are just getting real.” She paused, took a deep breath, and continued in a rush. “I hate girl things. I don’t know how to deal with mani-pedis, massages, and girl talk. And then the bridal party dance?” She shuddered. “Hell on earth.”

He grinned. “You’ve faced a lot of your fears this week. I’m impressed, Brigid. But not surprised. You’re a strong, determined woman.” He sucked in a breath. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Brigid froze, his words sinking in, shredding her heart. She still couldn’t believe it was true. Sure, he had said it before, but that was in a moment of passion and didn’t most guys say those magic words to get sex? But to hear it again, here and now, maybe he really meant it. “You love me?”

He looked at her sideways. “I thought that was obvious. Why else would I want a relationship with you?”

“Why? Why do you love me?” She almost didn’t ask, but had to know.

“I just told you. Are you fishing for compliments?” He teased, a smile on his face for the first time that night.

She blushed. “I never do that.”

He slid across the floor and put his hand next to hers, his fingers brushing hers. She held her breath, feeling both terrified and exhilarated.

“No, you don’t. You never see your own strengths and attractive qualities.”

He leaned the last few inches and brushed his lips gently across hers, then settling in for a deeper kiss. She moaned and relaxed her mouth, and he took that moment to slide his hand up her spine to cup the back of her head and hold her firmly in place. His tongue swept in her mouth to tangle with hers, the taste of beer mingling with her coke. She sagged back against the couch, and he shifted to press against her. Finally.

He lifted his head. “Did that answer your question?”

ChapterTwenty-Two

Grady settled back against the couch, his arm draped around Brigid, as she stared at him in a daze. He smiled inwardly, finally getting the reaction out of her he had been hoping for. She was quiet, thinking about everything, and open to more possibilities, which gave him hope.

Last night, after she had answered his question, no one had been more surprised than he was. He never expected her to answer that truthfully and honestly; he didn’t know if she could have answered the question, if she knew how she felt about her job. The best he had hoped for was that she would acknowledge that her job was killing her and might not be worth giving her whole life away for it. He just wanted her to see what was in front of her, and asking her about him would have only caused more argument. So, he went with the core issue—how she viewed her job.

And damn, she had surprised him.

Then they spent the night together, and it was better than he had imagined, and hopefully it left her with questions about her choices and him. But he chickened out, afraid she would make the same choices, so he had left early that morning and he honestly never thought she’d show up on his doorstep, so to speak.

Now they were stranded together. What would happen next?

She laid her head on his shoulder and watched the fire flicker. They sat quietly while music played in the background. Then “All of Me” came on by John Legend. Grady pulled away and stood up. Brigid blinked at him, warily. He held out his hand.

“Want to practice that bridal party dance?” She eyed his hand like a viper. “Come on, Brigid. You’ve conquered your other fears. How about this one?”

She licked her lips and placed her hand gently in his. To him, it felt like she was laying her heart in his hand and his heart clenched. He closed his fingers, gently caging hers, like they were made of spun glass, and helped her to her feet. He pulled her close to him, flush against his body.

He placed his lips next to her ear and whispered, “We’ll have to pretend that you have your heels on and there are people around us.”

“I prefer it this way,” she murmured.

“Me too.”

She shivered in response and slid her hand around his back and up his shoulder. He took her hand and gently swayed to the music. He cradled her close and, when he looked into her eyes, he saw a glimmer of tears and something else, something that wrenched his heart. Sadness. Loneliness.

And hope.

He pulled her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder, finally feeling at home.

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