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“Not always,” she said in a knowing tone. “You’ve been spending some time with Grant, I hear.”
“You hear? I told you all about the sushi date.” The good and the bad, and I even shared the details of that kiss that knocked me for a loop.
“But you haven’t really given me any details about you and Grant. Are you guys dating now? Just screwing? Getting serious?”
“That’s because I don’t have any details. The dates have been fun, but two dates in two weeks isn’t exactly dating-dating, is it?” I’d seen sex buddies more often than that in the past. “I think we’re friends with occasional benefits.”
“Yeah right. You forgot that I was there when you met. I saw the sparks with my own eyes. Felt the chemistry, too.”
“That was months ago. This is now and things have changed.” When we were together it didn’t feel that way, but there was so much distance and silence between the dates that I was fairly sure we were both just staving off boredom and loneliness.
“I don’t believe that any more than you do.”
“Oh, I believe it.” I had no choice to but take Grant by his actions, which said he liked spending time with me, but he wasn’t looking for more than an occasional companion. “I’m done seeing signs where none exist, and reading between the lines when a man’s words are explicit. That’s old Brenna. New Brenna is much smarter.”
“And incredibly oblivious,” Shannon said and pointed to the street, where a uniformed delivery driver headed straight for the salon, a bouquet of flowers nestled in the crook of his arms. “So, so oblivious.”
“It’s probably from Jessie May because I told her how well the salon was doing.” Besides Jessie May, the only time I ever got flowers was when my man of the moment screwed up, which was often. And that made the flowers feel a lot less special, almost tainted.
“Your sister sends you pink and white roses?”
I gasped and turned back just as the bell chimed to signal someone had entered the shop, and sure enough, the man held a gorgeous bouquet of pink and white roses and tulips. “They’re beautiful!” I accepted the flowers and buried my face in them to inhale the sweet perfume.
“Read the card.” Shannon’s sing-song words drew my attention to the small envelope attached to the center of the bouquet.
“It’s from Grant.”
“Duh,” she said sarcastically. “Read it. Out loud,” she added with a laugh.
The card was handwritten. “I know last-minute requests break some unwritten date rules, but I wasn’t sure I’d be free in time. Now that I know I will, I find that I can’t wait to see you again. I’m so eager to see you that I’m luring you with a home cooked meal made by yours truly. Eight o’clock.” I looked up with an unstoppable smile. “And his name. That’s it.”
“He wants to cook you dinner and probably eat you up for dessert. Sounds like a good night to me. You’re going right?”
“Yep. I can’t resist a man who cooks,” I told her honestly. “At least I think I can’t, but I’ve never had a man who cooked for me before.”
“Then enjoy every moment of tonight. And be sure to stop in at the bakery to share every single detail with me tomorrow.” Shannon pushed off the chair with one hand on her belly. “See you later, Bren.”
After I finished up at the salon, I made a quick stop home for a shower and a change, putting on a sexy floral dress that showed off all my curves, feminine open-toe wedge sandals, and knock’em dead lingerie just in case Grant was ready to fulfill his promise of more naked time. A quick spritz of perfume and I jumped in my small pink pickup truck and headed to Grant’s place, which used to be Miles’ lake house before he moved in with Shannon.
“Damn Brenna, you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“I was hopin’ to get a rise out of you, but in an entirely different way.”
The smile came first and then that deep, contagious laugh echoed in the open doorway. “You never fail to get a rise out of me, Brenna. Of that I can assure you. Come on in.”
“You all settled in now?”
He shrugged and turned with a bemused smile. “I’m still getting used to the way news travels in this town, but yeah, I’m pretty much settled in.”
The place looked every inch the bachelor pad it was, only it was sparser than I’d expected from a man who led such a rich life and seemed to make friends wherever he went. “Where are all the photos and other mementos?”
“In a box somewhere, I think. I don’t know where to put crap like that,” he admitted with a frustrated groan.
“Your business partners are both either married, or practically married, ask Shannon or Olive to help.” Or me, but I didn’t say that because it felt too much like I was inviting myself over again, which I was not. Absolutely not.
