He sits next to me. “You’re the one wearingmyclothes. If anyone’s the stalker here, it’s you.”
I look down at my jacket, and, shit, yeah, this does look bad. “It seems I need to do laundry,” I joke.
“It looks better on you anyways.”
Do not blush, Maisie. “I’m sorry about last night. We didn’t do…”
Grayson places his hand over mine. “Maisie, you have no reason to apologize. You’re a very cute drunk, actually.” His dimple has my tummy fluttering. That’s a new development. “And don’t worry, nothing happened between us last night. I would have never let that happen.”
I recoil. Note taken. Hot cowboy indeed does not want to touch me.
“I just meant I never would have taken advantage of you when you were drunk. I drove you home after you were done dancing with Hunter and made sure you made it to bed. That’s it.”
I’m not sure why this is my first thought, but I blurt it all the same. “Did you change my clothes?”
The laugh that comes out of him should be recorded and made into a ringtone. I would never sleep through an alarm again. “Definitely not. Though you took your clothes off before I even made it out of your room. That should be studied, how fast you were able to get out of that skintight contraption. I don’t know how you girls pee in those things.”
Now I’m the one laughing. His hand is still on mine when I move it a little from my laugh. “It’s an Olympic sport. Wait until you find out about bodysuits.”
His face wrinkles, though I’m sure he has no idea what I’m talking about. It’s adorable, and I need to shut my mouth before he laughs again and has me falling for him. I’m here for my research. I’ll be leaving soon anyways, so absolutelynothingcan happen between us. Zero exceptions. My heart is going home with me.
Grayson looks down at our joined hands and pulls away. “I’llstick to my Wranglers.” We sit in silence for only a moment. “So, what brings you out here?”
I chew on my lip. “Here as in this dock, or here as in Montana?”
He shrugs. “I guess both.”
“That's kind of a loaded question. Both for the same reasons, in a way.”
He traces the grain of the wood dock with his finger. “Care to elaborate?”
I sigh, looking out at the water. “Life, I guess.” Grayson raises his eyebrows at me, as if to sayno shit. I roll my neck and lean back on my palms. “I’m here for a lot of reasons, and I’m not really sure which one truly brought me here, but I’m glad it did. I needed to get away from the city for a while and be on my own surrounded bygoodpeople. The city can sweep you up and make you forget what really matters in life. So, I guess I came out here to see the family I never got the chance to grow up around, maybe let my brain breathe for a minute.”
Grayson bobs his head. “And your work was just okay with you picking up your life for an indefinite amount of time to live in rural Montana?”
The cackle that leaves my lips is anything but ladylike. “One of those reasons I mentioned earlier is actually my job. I’m a writer, and, it turns out, I’m in need of someinspiration.” I throw up air quotes, mocking the words.
“Well that explains the typewriter socks.”
My eyes blow wide. “You went through my stuff?”
“No, you were wearing them last night. Practically the only thing you had on,” he mumbles under his breath.
How did I forget that? “Ha, yeah.Alcohol brain. Oakland got them for me when we were younger.” I smile at the memory. “I always wanted a pink typewriter growing up, but we couldn’t afford one. Bouncing around foster homes, it just wasn’t in the cards. Lan went out and found me these socks as a placeholder. They are my good luck charm when I’m in a writing slump.”
“When did you enter the foster system? I’m surprised you didn’t come live with the Foxes. They would have taken you in, no question,” he says with genuine confusion.
“Oh, trust me, we tried. The Foxes fought tooth and nail, but the courts deemed themtoo oldandtoo busy with the ranchto be able to take care of two young kids. We were only eight and ten at the time. The court wanted us to have as little change as possible at our age, so they kept us in our schools and placed us in the system in town.” I still get chills when I think of that horrific night, my leg twinging with phantom pain.
“Bullshit,” he scoffs.
I laugh so hard, I choke on my spit. “Yeah, bullshit,” I yell through my laughs.
“That make you feel better?”
“A little,” I hum.
“Say it again.”
