Page 69 of Never Your Valentine

“You tell me. Who is this cheerful brother who’s sitting in Grant’s chair?”

I flip him off.

He laughs and does it back, then points a finger at me. “A few weeks ago, I would have said you could use a rage room session, but now? I don’t think you need one.”

“Of course not.” I’ve never used my own rage room and I never will. What I have inside stays inside. Always.

Felix nods. “You’ve been remarkably chill lately.”

“Have I?”

His eyebrows bounce. “I can guess why. Or rather, who.”

Blake shouts at us that he’s done. He seems happier, and even offers to help clean up. I head downstairs, thinking about Felix’s comments.

Remarkably chill? I don’t want to know who’s remarked on my life and I don’t want to know what people are saying. About me. About Annabelle. It’s nobody’s business but ours.

Chapter 27

Annabelle

Things are different between us. Grant has opened up to me in a way he hasn’t opened up to anyone else, and we’re more comfortable with each other now. We still give each other a hard time, but it’s lost its edge. It’s become fond. Easy. I like knowing him. I like that he knows me.

So one day, when he starts teasing me about sex toys, I go ahead and show him mine. Why not?

It turns out to be a fantastic choice. Grant is intrigued by the contents of my secret drawer. He demands some show and tell. I’m doing the showing. He’s doing the telling, giving me details about how much it’s turning him on.

Then he gets, I don’t know, competitive? Tells me he can do it better than an inanimate object. And he does. After that, I show him what I do best. It’s hot and sweaty and all kinds of delicious.

I tell him a vibrator can’t cuddle, and he gets the hint. He rearranges the pillows, pulls on an extra blanket, and positions my leg over his as he wraps me in his arms. We’re boneless, melty, and way too satisfied. Neither of us wants to move.

“Mmm,” I mumble against the hard wall of his chest. “Can I ask you something?”

“Six inches,” he says. “Six feet. Sixth grade.”

“Huh?”

“Answering your questions.”

“I don’t want to know about that last one.”

“First kiss,” he says.

“What I want to know is, do you want to be on my Instagram?”

Grant pulls away from our comfortable puddle. “Why?”

“My followers like inspiration photos. I showed them the lake, and the snowdrifts, and Ernie Keebes shoveling his driveway in a ski jacket and shorts. I showed them the St. Nick Sledder. They loved him. And his dogs.”

“So what do you need me for?”

“You inspired me to make my cards snarkier.”

“You call those snarky?” He reaches for his phone and pulls up my Insta. We scroll through it together. He stops on the card I made for LeVar Burton, with the cartoon spaceship and the books. “How did that one do? Get lots of traction?”

“No,” I admit. “But there’s lots of competition out there.”

“You need to stand out.” He scrolls some more. “These sassypants cards are nice, but they won’t get people talking.”