He shrugs, setting down his book and picking up hiswine. “Mostly because you seem to live to give me shit, and this one’s an easy target.”
“Okay, I do enjoy giving you shit, not going to argue that point. But why would you reading a book be an easy target?” I’m not playing dumb. I don’t actually understand what point he’s trying to make.
“I just expected some kind of ‘Wow, Grayson, I didn’t know you could read’ kind of comment.” He stares into the depths of his richly colored wine.
“I know you can read, thanks to a little thing called a read-through.” I throw him a snarky smile, but he doesn’t return it. “Did you really think I was going to make fun of you for liking books? Writing is basically my entire life, West.”
“No, not make fun of me. More like be incredulous that it’s one of my hobbies.” He chuckles a little, like he’s trying to pass off the sentiment as a joke.
“Wow. So I guess all of our sleeping together hasn’t changed your opinion of me. You still think I’m a huge asshole?” I try to inject some humor of my own into the words, but I don’t think I hide the sting very well. And maybe I deserve it, his low opinion of me, but despite all my best intentions, I was actually starting to like Grayson. As a friend, I mean. And it doesn’t feel great that the feeling isn’t reciprocated.
I chug the rest of my wine and signal to the server to bring me my check.
“Emmy. I didn’t mean it like that.” Grayson leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
There’s still a fair amount of space between us, but itdoesn’t stop his pine and charcoal scent from filling my nose. “It’s fine.”
Our server heads over to the table and I pull out my credit card to hand it over, only to find Grayson has beat me to it.
I glare at him because if he’s going to think the worst of me, I might as well earn it. “I was going to do that.”
He shrugs. “You can get the next time.”
I shove out of my seat and gather my stuff. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I think we had the right idea from the beginning. We’re good together in bed, and now we’re good together on set. We probably shouldn’t push our luck and try to be okay together anywhere else.” I slip my arms into my coat. “Costars with benefits. That’s all this is. We certainly don’t need to be friends.”
Strutting out of the wine bar doesn’t go quite as smoothly as I’d like because, as per usual, I bought too many books, and carrying them all while in the midst of a dramatic exit throws me off-balance. I manage to right myself as I push out of the front door and onto the sidewalk, but just barely, and the delay gives Grayson enough time to catch up with me.
“Let me help you with those.” He reaches for the stack of books, but I pull them close to my chest. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for all that to come out the way it did, Harper.” He gestures in the general direction of the wine bar. “I wasn’t trying to insult you, and I don’t think you’re an asshole. At least, not anymore.” He nudges me with his elbow, a small smile pulling on his perfect lips.
I shift the heavy weight of the books in my arms, halfway wishing I’d let him take them off my hands but not willing to give in that easily. “We don’t have to be friends, but I would like to think we at least have mutual respect.”
He reaches for the books again, and this time I let him take them. “Of course I respect you, Ems. I think you’re brilliant, and honestly, I’m just worried you think I’m a himbo like the rest of the world.”
A real smile spreads across my face. “A himbo? Really? People have actually called you that?”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “Not to my face. But, as we’ve already determined, I do, in fact, know how to read.”
I nudge him in the direction of my car, and we start walking, slowly because the sidewalk is icy and slick. “If it makes you feel any better, in my world, being a himbo is a good thing.”
“How so?”
“Himbos are gorgeous and sweet and kind and lovable and just want to make everyone happy.”
“So essentially I’m a golden retriever?”
I laugh, and the genuineness of it startles me. “I mean, yes? But in a good way, I promise.”
Another silence falls between us, but this one is comfortable. We reach my car, and Grayson carefully places my books in the backseat before joining me on the sidewalk.
“Did you drive?” I shove my hands in the pockets of my coat because I’m faced with the sudden urge to reach for him. But we’re not safely stored in one of our rooms, and Idon’t quite know what to do with that feeling when it’s not an immediate prelude to sex.
“I walked.” He cocks his head in the direction of the inn. “I should be getting back before it gets any colder.”
“Why don’t I just drive you?” I blurt out the words before I really consider the ramifications of sitting in a car alone with Grayson, even if it is just for a few minutes.
“You don’t mind?”
I swallow thickly, realizing I can’t take back the offer. “Of course not.”
