I’m not buying it one bit.
Taking a seat, I hug my coffee in my hands. “You shouldn’t be making me pancakes after last night,” I say honestly. “You’ve already done so much.”
He sets a plate before me and grabs two forks. “I’m about to deliver some bad news. The pancakes will soften the blow.”
Grayson sits next to me and drags the pancakes over, depositing two on my plate before serving himself. When he hands me the maple syrup and continues to say nothing else, I prompt, “Are you trying to build suspense?”
“No. I’m waiting for you to take a bite before I say it.”
Dousing my pancakes, I take a giant forkful and stuff it in my mouth. “Ready.” My voice is muffled around the pancake.
Grayson lifts a humored brow, but his voice is serious as he says, “Your boat’s being hauled for repairs. Gary doesn’t want you to live on it while it’s out of the water. It’s last in the queue, so it could be a few weeks.”
The pancake turns to ash in my mouth. “How do you…did you call him?”
“I called him early this morning and explained the situation. Not because you can’t handle it yourself, but because I know you’d want to wake up with solutions, which I have.”
He looks like he expects me to be outraged by him going over my head, but with his explanation, I’m not.
I’m grateful.
And instantly stressed. I’m out of ahome.
“Anson has a guest house on his property that no one’s using. He’s offering it to you, no charge.”
“I can’t take a hand-out from my boss.” The reaction is immediate. “I’ll get a hotel or…or a rental or something.”
As if anticipating this response, he smoothly continues, “Any rentals in town have been booked for months, and one night at a hotel in the summer will cost you a couple hundred. So if you don’t want to stay at Anson’s, the other option is that you stay here in the guest room until your boat’s back in the water.”
He goes quiet, observing me as I take this in.
Surely,there has to be some other option. Something better than depending on myveryintimidating boss for housing, or invading Grayson’s space. But apart from car camping or…oractualcamping, there’s nothing I can do. I don’t have the budget to stay in a hotel for weeks.
“I really don’t feel comfortable mooching off my employer.” As it is, the fact that he drove out in a late-night storm to help me makes me want to shrivel up inside.
Grayson shrugs. “Then you’re staying here.” He resumes eating his pancakes, like he didn’t just nonchalantly decide I’m moving in with him. Like the butterflies in my stomach aren’t throwing a houseparty right now.
“You have a lot going on. I don’t want to impose,” I argue weakly.
“You’re not. Though you’ll have to get along with Dave.”
I glance at the feathered monster, waddling little circles around the living room, then back to Grayson. My chest is full of giddy, starry-eyed excitement that clearly hasn’t gotten the memo that this is going tosuck.
Teasing myself, playing house with a man I can’t have, who just elevated himself tosuperherostatus by offering me his place.
Maybe he clogs the toilet with massive dumps, or eats out of the trash, or doesn’t wash his hands, and everything I feel for him will effectively be squashed.
The thought is a small comfort.
“If I can handle week-one Grayson, I can handle a bird,” I tell him, digging into my pancakes.
He spares Dave a sympathetic look. “Sorry, buddy. You have no idea what you’re in for.”
Hot,lemon-scented steam blasts my face as I open the oven and remove the chicken for the fourth time in six minutes. Using two forks, I carefully open the slice I made in one of the chicken breasts to see if it’s finally done.
God forbid I overcook it and Grayson eat rubbery poultry. The entire world will collapse. So here I am, being shamelessly obsessive.
The juices run clear, so I shut off the oven and start setting the table. There isn’t much dishware to choose from—just a handful of mismatched plates, a random collection of utensils, and some scratched up glasses. It’s on-trend withwhat I found in his fridge earlier: condiments, a few eggs, milk, maple syrup, and three too-soft apples.
