Page 18 of Romanced By the Silver Fox

I look at the ring. At the man I still love. At the house. It’s everything I could ever want, being handed to me on a silver platter.

“No.”

CHAPTER8

GRANT

The walkback to the car is the longest twenty minutes of my life.

Fuck. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That three days would be enough for her to remember how good we were together? Or maybe that she felt the same way I did about how much she and I belong with one another?

Nice try,my brain spits out.Completely foolish choice, but nice try.My gut twists and my throat tightens in shame at my arrogance.

Genie stares resolutely ahead, like she’s determined to avoid looking at me as long as possible. I don’t blame her. This awkward silence makes my skin itch. The sooner we get back to the hotel, the sooner I can lose myself in the bottom of whatever bottle is handiest.

The damnedest part is that I didn’t intend to propose tonight. I meant to give her the key to the house and let her explore. If she liked it, then I would’ve given it to her. Let her know that the property was hers, no strings attached.

But that ring has been burning a hole in my pocket since the day I saw it. From the second I laid eyes on it, I knew it was meant to be Genie’s. It’s like her. An unusual cut but made of the strongest material.

When I saw her all dressed up tonight, looking like a siren in that black dress, her hair in that updo with little tendrils hanging down, I lost my mind. I wanted to ditch my plan for the night and take her straight to bed. I should have. It would’ve been a better night. That part of our relationship, at least, is solid.

Instead, I made a fool of myself, and very likely ruined any chance at us getting back together.

“Grant?” Her voice is soft. Careful. Like she’s not sure how I’ll react, and she doesn’t want to spook me. It’s a reasonable approach. I feel like a wounded animal, miserable and desperate. I’m sure it shows on my face.

“Yeah?” I hate how short my voice sounds, and the way she winces. It’s not her. Just frustrated with my overeager self having blown it so badly.

“We should go inside and talk.”

I’m confused when I look up and see the hotel parking lot. Huh. Guess I was on autopilot all the way here.

I get out of the car and come around to open Genie’s door. When she puts her hand in mine, I grip hers tightly. It’s the last time I’ll get to hold her like this. Any further contact will be on a professional basis. That is, if she takes the job. Failing that, Marin might convince her to consult with whomever we pick for the director position. I will stay far away from all of that.

Our walk across the lobby and the elevator ride is equally silent. I steal glances at her profile. Her ski slope of a nose, her sharp cheekbones, her perfect bow-shaped mouth are imprinted on my soul. Now that I’ve tasted her again, I don’t know how I’m supposed to give her up.

I escort Genie to her door. She hands me the key, a faint smile dancing on her lips. I answer it with one of my own. Even in my distressed state, I can’t help responding to her.

She pulls off her wrap, draping it across the sofa. She steps out of her heels. Her sigh of relief is so long and loud, I’d swear people in the next county over can hear it. Gracefully, she settles onto the couch and starts taking the pins out of her hair.

I clear my throat. Lay her key card on the table. “I’m going to go. You have the room until the end of the week, so stay or not, as you like. Your return ticket is open, so whenever you want to return to New York, you can do that, too.”

“No.”

She says it so casually. Soft and firm. As if she didn’t just cut me in half with the same word half an hour ago.

“No, what?”

She pats the sofa beside her. “Don’t go.”

I stare at her beautiful face. She can’t mean it. Genie simply stares back and pats the cushion again. I go to her and sit down.

“That house we stopped in front of. It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Not trusting myself to speak, I nod.

“That’s what I thought,” she says. Genie reaches over, takes my hand in her own. “It’s nice to know I still get you.”

“I bought it, but it’s for you. I wanted — Iwantyou to have it. Still.” I confess.

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