Page 105 of The Sweetest Obsession

“Don’t try to argue. She’ll strip and streak down Second Avenue if you make her change.”

“...let’s avoid that. I—”

I stop cold as Grant holds out his arm.

Oh, crap, it’s happening.

This really is a bona fide date, isn’t it?

Maybe it’s a family date, sure, butit’s a date.

Swallowing my nerves, I slip my hand into Grant’s arm—and suddenly find my other hand occupied with a tiny set of fingers.

The trust in the gesture melts me like butter.

Together, we start toward the door until Grant stops at the coatrack, frowning.

“You still didn’t buy a jacket, did you?”

“Um, I forgot?” I press my lips together, trying not to smile.

Grant gives me the fiercest look.

While Nell watches us with a giggle, her uncle yanks his fur-lined leather jacket down from the coatrack and pulls it open for me with a commanding glare.

Wear it,he tells me without words.

I blink at him.

Welp. I’m never going to stop blushing at this rate.

After a moment, I let go of Nell’s hand and slip my arms into the jacket sleeves, letting Grant wrap it around me.

Wraphimaround me, his leather and scent enveloping me as I tilt into his arms.

That heavy coat is so large it dwarfs me and I don’t mind one bit.

Then he pulls back.

“What about you?” I finger the collar, turning to face him shyly.

“I’ve got my police jacket,” he says gruffly, tugging it down from the hook and sliding into it with a flex of his chest so strong it looks like he could snap the buttons right off. He gives me another fierce, guarded look that sets off butterflies. “Let’s go.”

No argument here.

Nell and I exchange an almost conspiratorial look.

She slips her little hand into mine, and I slide mine into Grant’s arm again. We step out into the night like this is the new normal.

Our normal, period.

Like somehow, it’s just this easy, falling into this patchwork family.

I try not to think too hard about what that might mean.

The ride to the restaurant—a local steakhouse—is quiet and comfortable.

Nell carries on a conversation with Mr. Pickle in the back. Apparently, she doesn’t want us knowing his business, frequently bending and whispering in the unicorn’s ear.

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