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She snorted. "I have a feeling the result would be the same. I didn't snap a leash around your neck and make you do what I wanted."
I grimaced. "I'm not a dancing monkey. For one thing, I can't dance for shit."
She gave me a wry look. "The great Bam Clinton isn't good at everything?"
I gave her a grin out of the side of my mouth. "It's shocking, isn't it? I also can't sing for nuts. The things I can do, though, I do really well." I turned my best seductive smile on her. I expected her to roll her eyes, but she actually blushed.
Interesting. Apparently I was breaking through the walls around her after all.
Go me.
"I'm not good at jumping through hoops," I said, as if she hadn't worked that out already. "But I didn't think I'd take you down with me. That's unfair of Carson, if you ask me."
"Yeah." She shrugged. "It is what it is. I'll find something else." She looked so sad, I wanted to put my muscular arms around her and hold her against my burly chest. Surely that would help?
"I could ask him to reconsider," I suggested. "If we communicate better, we could make me look like a choir boy."
"Wouldn't you have to sing then?" She managed a faint, teasing smile.
"I'll fake it," I said. "No one will notice. For real though, I can talk to Carson. How could he say no to me?"
"I suspect he could do that easily," she said. "He might be the only one who can."
"Does that mean you can't tell me no?" I asked immediately.
"Make that two of us who can tell you no." She sipped her wine and said, "I spoke to your sister."
"That would explain why you look angry with me." I grinned and wiggled my eyebrows, but I was worried on the inside. What the hell would Chantel have said to Grace? She could have told her I never stay with one woman for long, but Grace knew that. Chantel might have told Grace about the time I snuck out of the house and went to get pizza. Was that so bad? Most people would understand. After all, it's pizza. It's not like I put peas on it.
Grace sipped again. "She told me you stuck up for her, because that asshat was slut shaming her."
"Ah." Remembering that made me angry all over again. No one slut shames any woman around me, especially my sister.
"Yeah. He kinda pissed us both off," I said.
"She also said it was her fault you were there in the first place," Grace said.
I shrugged. "That was on both of us." I wished we hadn't stepped foot in that bar. Grace and I might have gotten off to a better start. I asked myself why I cared about that, but I had no answer. Well, not one I'd admit to right now. She was cute and hot, and I wanted to kiss her, but that was all.
That was the story I told myself.
Grace nodded. "I have a hard time saying no to my baby brother whenever he stays with me. He asks for ice cream and then gives me those big puppy dog eyes."
I grinned. "They must learn that in baby brother and sister school. If mine asked for the moon, then gave me that face— I'd take her to get a moon tattooed wherever she wanted. I have skills, but bringing down rocks from space ain't one."
Grace laughed, a sweet, throaty sound that gave me little goosebumps all over. "I'm sure you would if you could."
"Nah," I replied. "It would ruin all those romantic walks on the beach. Folks would hate me."
"Good point." She raised her glass to me and added, "Besides, the moon would crush you, and probably the whole city too."
"That would make everyone really angry," I said. "Really flat too."
"Right. Best leave it where it is." She nodded.
"Sounds like a plan," I said. "I might buy her a ticket when Carson Thomas has a rocket made so he can go to space." That seemed to be the thing all the cool billionaires were into now.
Personally, I'd prefer to look up at space than go there. Each to their own though. I wasn't going to space shame anyone. Not that they'd give two shits what I thought.
