She deserves better.Don’t forget that.
But what would Grace say?
You know the answer.She’d argue with me. She’d tell me I didn’t get to decide what she deserved. She’d look at me with those big green eyes and see something worth wanting, even though I knew she was wrong.
The only way you’ll know is if you ask her.
Christ. She was rubbing off on me. Since when did I thinktalkingwas the answer to anything?
I stood up.
Crossed to the adjoining door.
And knocked.
Chapter 29
Grace
The knock made me jump,which was ridiculous, because I’d been staring at the adjoining door for the past ten minutes, willing it to open. I’d kicked off my shoes the second I got inside, then stood in the middle of the room like an idiot, waiting.
He’s going to come through that door,I’d told myself.Any second now.
But seconds had turned into minutes, and I’d started to wonder if I’d imagined the way he’d looked at me when Arthur said goodnight. The way his eyes had tracked me all through dinner, even when he was pretending to focus on his food.
But now he was knocking, and my heart was going absolutely wild in my chest, and I was crossing the room before I could talk myself out of it.
I swung the door open with way too much force.
Garrett stood motionless in his dark Henley and jeans, filling up the doorframe and looking at me with those dark eyes that always seemed to be working through something complicated. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it. His jaw was tight, like usual.
“Hi,” I said, like a genius.
“Hi.” He didn’t move.
“Did you want to come in?” I stepped back from the adjoining door, as though inviting him in was the most natural thing in the world. “Or are you here to check my locks?”
“I probably should.” Another one of those half-smiles crossed his face as he stepped through the doorway. “Check your locks, of course.”
My room was identical to his. Sitting area by the door with a couch and television, a king-sized bed, high ceilings, a bathroom out of a dream, and windows overlooking the city lights. “So.”
“So.”
This was it. This was the moment I’d been thinking about since he stopped kissing me on the train. Since before that, if I was being honest. Since I’d found him in Tristan’s kitchen shirtless at one in the morning, researching Fabergé eggs like some kind of brooding museum security guard.
I’d had a whole fantasy about how this would go. I’d be confident and enticing. I’d say something clever that would make him actually smile. I’d be like the heroines in my books, the ones who tested their grumpy protectors at every turn and made them crack.
Instead, my mouth opened and what came out was: “This is the part where I’m supposed to be witty and flirtatious, but I’m terrible at it.”
Smooth, Grace. Really smooth.
“You’re not terrible at it.”
“I am, though.” I felt the blush climbing my cheeks already. Great. “I had this whole plan where I’d be sassy and sexy, and you wouldn’t be able to say no. But just thinking about it, I know I’m blushing so hard, and I’m seriously thinking about locking myself in the bathroom and never coming out again.”
“It would make my job of checking your room security easier.” His real smile was threatening to break free. That was a good sign, right?
I pointed to my left. “Front door’s over there. I’m pretty sure I did the lock right.”
