AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Five
Gracie
I didn’t acknowledge it or respond when he’d breathedthe truth, smug and warm, upon my lips… and neither of us have said much since. Now, as he drives and I do my best not to fidget, a stale silence remains, thickening the air. He’s keeping his eyes on the road for the most part, but I’m hyper-aware of every side glance he flicks my way; what I’m guessing is his form of fidgeting… afraid he came on too strong and offended me, unsure if it’s safe to break the ice yet.
He didn’t, and it is, but he doesn’t know that, so, looks like the ball’s in my court. Or, puck’s in my rink.
“Okay, I can’t take it. You’ve got to tell me to what I owe that sweet little giggle.” His voice is tinged with humor, anticipating the story behind the noise I didn’t realize I’d released, and unknowingly, used to split the ice right down the middle.
“Umm…” I gnaw at my lip, struggling to come up with something, anything, besides honesty. Just this once.
“Nuh uh,” he chuckles, “out with it.
“Fine,” I sigh, already cringing. “But you can’t laugh.”
“Why not? You did.”
“Touché. Alright, sheesh. But laugh with me, not at me. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Starting to miss the awkward silence phase. That ship sailed though, so here goes… “I was thinking the ball was in my court, to initiate a conversation…”
“And?”
I cover my eyes with my hand, ‘cause that’ll help. “And I changed it to something else, that struck me as funny.”
“What’d you change it to?” The lilt of amusement in his voice is already strong and I’ve yet to deliver the punch line. At this rate, he’ll probably piss himself and run us into a ditch by the time I’m finished.
“Puck’s in my rink,” I mumble, eyes still covered. “Seemed fitting to me, but go ahead, laugh it up.”
Braced for ridicule, met by complete quiet, I talk myself into taking a glimpse at his reaction, of non-reaction, and to figure out why the truck’s stopped moving. I’m too slow, though—my hand being lowered for me—my now exposed eyes meeting his as he holds my hand, rubbing circles in my palm with his thumb.
“That was the cutest damn thing I’ve ever heard. You’re something, Gracie Bolton,” he murmurs, a wolfish hint to his tone that hits me right between the thighs.
“Something…” In a shaky whisper, I beg him to elaborate.
“Worth exploring.” He gifts me with that same sly smirk he’d worn during our very first encounter at his game, even more effective this time around.
Still hesitant to forfeit my inhibitions, or allow myself to become so lost in his husky timbre, bottomless eyes, and suggestive aura that I hurl myself on top of him, I reroute us to boring, small-talk, using full voice. “I’m glad my note made it to you tonight. I would’ve felt awful about leaving Nikki sitting at home alone; especially when the only reason I’m here is to visit her.”
He decides it’s his turn to lead the conversation, hanging a hard right at loud and gruff. “Visit?”
“Yes, visit. I don’t live here, Brewer. I just came up to stay with Nik for a week; been way too long. Then, back home I go.” I smile, and hitch a shoulder, stumped by the harsh bend to his brows. Then with my pointer finger out, I motion about his face and ask, “What’s, uh, going on there, grumpy?”
When he says nothing and his expression further hardens, an absurd thought flits through my mind, causing me to laugh... and ask,
“Surely you’re not gonna try to sell me some load of crap… like, your grouchy face is because you’re just devastated”—I embellish my sarcasm by slapping the back of my hand against my forehead— “to learn that the woman you met a whole hour ago doesn’t live within your grasp,” I end with louder, unstoppable laughter.
“Kind of, yeah.” His pouty grunt’s not only adorable, but dare I speculate… genuine?
But how could that be? Oh, that’s right–it couldn’t. My, my, Gracie, someone sure thinks highly of herself. He’s obviously just kidding around, while being flattering… I talk some sense into myself and snap out of it.
“Only a week, huh? Counting back from the first night I saw you, we’ve got, what, four days left?”
Okay, no way did I imagine it this time. There’s definitely an edge of disappointment to his voice. Nor did I mishear him say ‘we,’ meaning him and I, calculating the ticking clock on our possible time together. But I haven’t the foggiest on how to best respond, so I’m beyond grateful when he is the one to speak again.
“You hungry?”
