Page 28 of Damaged King

I stepped away and tried to eradicate how attracted I was to her. She was a means to an end. A final job that could help my father and goodwill toward my future.

I had a goal and she wasn’t a part of it.

13

Jolie

Grant leftthe room like he couldn’t stand to be in there with me. Wondering what his problem was, I put on my bra, put his shirt back on, and pulled one of the new sweaters over it. I hastily packed his other with my things so he didn’t see it if he hadn’t already. I’d just fastened my jeans when he opened the door.

“Are you ready?”

His gorgeous, earnest face was hard to resist. It was probably a good thing he had no interest in me or I’d seriously make super bad choices.

“Sure.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder and followed him out. In a gentleman move, which I should have come to expect, he opened the passenger door and gave me a hand up into the cab of the truck.

“Thank you,” I said, as my heart might have fluttered some.

I bit my lip and stared out the window, trying to ignore the attraction I felt toward him.

Instead, I pulled out my phone to see if I had any updates from my dad since the last time I checked fifteen minutes ago, only to find nothing.

“Is your grandmother okay?”

Color me surprised, I glanced over at him. Did he have a heart?

“I don’t know actually,” I said.

“I hope she is.” I might have stared blank-faced at him before he spoke again, not noticing my look. “You must be really close.”

“We are. She’s the only person in my life who’s accepted me.”

“Not your mom?” he asked.

“Mom cares in her own way. But she’s not atake your child to the playground and push your kid on a swingor even akiss your scrapes and bruiseskind of mom. She’s ateach you how to count and how to read, but if you have problems with a boy, send you to an all girls’ boarding schoolkind of mom.”

“Boarding school?”

Judgment curved his eyebrow.

“Yeah, boarding school.” I shrugged it off. “It’s not like I know how to fly a plane.”

For a second, there was quiet until we both started to laugh.

“Touché,” he said.

“What about you? Are you close to your dad?”

His jaw tightened and I almost backed off the question.

“My mom split when I was six or so.”

“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“When she married my dad, she thought she would be living a different kind of life.” He shrugged. “Dad cut ties with his family and Mom didn’t want to struggle in life. It’s just been Dad and me ever since.”

Everything soured for a second while his situation and mine sank in.

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