Do I have something in my teeth? I casually pretend to rub my lip, scratching my teeth in the process. While I’m at it, I blow into my palm to check my breath, since we’ve already established Grayson hasn’t looked my way. It smells fine…I think?
I come to the conclusion Grayson just has a stick up his butt, per usual, and it has nothing to do with me. I swear, this man's mood swings should be studied. It’s not like I thought we would become best friends or anything after spilling our life stories to each other, but a little eye contact wouldn’t hurt him.
“POP-CORN,” Nova screams, breaking me from my thoughts. I missed the joke, but I still laugh along with her. “I knew you wouldn’t get that one right, Uncle Gway.”
He chuckles. “You got me good, little one. You better eat up so you can grow big and strong like me,” he teases, flexing his arm at her.
Well now, my appetite is ruined, because all I can think about is Grayson’s bulging muscles strangling his shirt. It shouldn’t be so sexy, but I picture his rough hands grabbing me by the neck and shoving me against a wall…
Shit, I need to get laid so I don’t pounce on the man like a dog in heat. Maybe I’ll break out the trusty toy tonight; it should do the trick enough to hold me over. I can always hit up Outlaw and find a nice cowboy to scratch the itch…even if I already have one in mind, sitting right across from me.
I sneak a look over at him between a bite of food and almostjump out of my chair when I find his eyes fixed on me. Well, that’s a new development. He studies my face, tilting his head to the side as he shoves a ridiculously large bite of pancake in his mouth, licking the remaining syrup off his fork.
My legs squeeze under the table, and I focus back on my food while Nova shoots off another joke. Did he know I was thinking about him? He was studying me like my feelings were written across my forehead.
“This is amazing,” I say around a bite, looking at him in the corner of my eye.
He responds with a grunt. A fuckinggrunt. Apparently, we are back in the stone ages before language was a thing. This should be fun.
“What have you and Nova been up to?” I’m trying to fill the awkward silence, not that Nova has taken notice. She’s too busy pretending to feed her unicorn stuffy sitting on the chair next to her like a human.
“Puzzles,” Grayson shoots off, not helping hold the conversation.
Men.
“Okayyyy,” I respond, dragging out the word. This is getting really awkward, and I’m starting to get the feeling me being in his house makes Grayson uncomfortable. I’m not sure why we can’t be two civil humans, but, apparently, Grayson has chosen the route where he’s pretending I don’t exist. He did tell me we can’t be anything, but I didn’t know that included friends too. At this point, I’m just plain irritated. I feel dumb letting them talk me into joining dinner and ruining their night.
I hate being a burden. Mix anxiety with jumping around foster homes that felt like they didn’t want you there, and a person feels like a nuisance. I’ve worked hard to get to a place where I feel okay leaning on others occasionally, but it isn’t easy. One unplanned dinner with Grayson is about to unravel every bit of work I’ve put into myself.
I won’t let him do it.
I start up a conversation with Nova, turning my back to Grayson. Two can play at this game. If he hasn’t learned I have claws at this point, that’s his fault. I can hear him push food around his plate, clearly listening in on our conversation, but he keeps his lips sealed.
When we finish eating, I decide to kill his bad attitude with kindness. If there’s one thing about me, I'm always going to do my share. Grayson cooked, so I’ll clean. My chair shuffles back as I collect mine and Nova’s plates. I walk over to a perplexed Grayson, taking his plate off the table to stack with ours. He was definitely going for another bite, but it was worth the look on his face. There’s plenty of more food for him to eat on the table if he really wants it, so I don’t feel as bad.
I head over to the kitchen sink, plugging the stopper to fill it with warm, soapy water. While it fills, I’m reminded of the first time I saw Grayson. It was right here, at this very sink. I stare out the window I caught him looking at me through, looking over the dark trail Chesney drove us on to get to my cabin.
His eyes were what caught my attention, gripping me like a snake latching on to its prey. He has a hold on me I’ve never felt before. There was so much emotion in his eyes that night. Full of so many things, I couldn’t make them all out. But if there was one thing I saw, there was a story within them, just like mine. Pain recognizes pain, and boy, was I right.
I’ve thought countlessly over his and Laine’s childhood. What they’ve both been through, Laine even more so. Grayson gave up his childhood to take care of his little sister. He still seems to be doing that now, and even though I want to be pissed at him for whatever pissy mood he’s in, I just don’t have the energy to fight him. If he wants to hide from me? So be it. I won’t be some fish waiting around for the first hook to attach itself to.
“What are you doing?”
I startle, dropping the fork I was washing into the sink. Bubbles fly up, and one lands on my boob, leaving behind a wet spot. “Doing the dishes,” I respond, holding it up to him. “Iknow it’s a pretty new concept, but I really feel like it’s going to be the next big thing.”
He doesn’t laugh.Buzz kill.
“Why?”
I recoil, confused on what he wants me to say. Is he mad at me now for doing his dishes? Can I do nothing right by him?
I throw my hands up, bubbles floating along with them. “I don’t know, Grayson. Maybe because they needed done, and I’m trying to help out. You made me dinner, so I’m cleaning. End of story.”
I give him my back, getting back to the dishes. Warmth envelopes my back, and I sigh. Not this again. Large arms wrap around me and sink under the sudsy water, finding mine. Of course, they find mine immediately, enveloping my hands so I have no choice but to drop the dish I was holding.
A breath fans against the shell of my ear, drawing chills up my spine. “Maisie, you are a guest in my home. You will not be doing any dishes, or cleaning of any sort, for that matter.”
“But–”
