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The girl is young—maybe even younger than me—and she’s flirting with him big time. I can see it immediately after taking no more than two steps out the door.
She must be one of the residents on the farm. She’s got dark, curly hair and a tank top that makes the most of her curvy figure. A smile that’s wide and winsome and thick eyelashes she knows how to use to good effect. She’s probably a very nice person, but a surge of anger rushes through me at the sight of her with Grant that way.
It’s a ridiculous reaction.
An embarrassing one.
I’m aware of that much even as I want to snap my teeth and show my claws. Grant isn’t mine. No one is mine. And Grant is almost smiling—which he rarely does—so he obviously doesn’t mind being the object of this girl’s attention.
That fact upsets me even more.
I stride over to the Jeep and get into the passenger seat without saying anything or acknowledging their existence. If he keeps chatting with that girl while I’m sitting here waiting, I’m seriously going to start laying on the horn.
Fortunately I’m saved from that particular humiliation because Grant tells the girl he needs to get going and then climbs into his seat.
He shoots me a quick, questioning look before he turns on the ignition. I studiously avoid meeting his gaze.
He drives us to the gate, and then we start off on the small road that leads away from the farm. After a few minutes, he turns his head. “What’s going on?”
“With what?”
“With you.”
“Nothing is going on.” I’m still trying not to meet his eyes. Don’t ask me why. It just feels like something I need to do.
“Why are you lying to me? Something is wrong with you, and I want to know what it is.”
“Nothing is wrong with me. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Did someone bother you back on the farm?” His voice is filled with gravel in that way it gets sometimes.
“No. Of course not. They’re all very friendly.”
“Did someone make a move on you?”
“No!” I’m getting annoyed by this interrogation since pretty soon he’ll figure out exactly what triggered my mood, and I really don’t want him to know. If I’m smart, I’ll change the subject to something safe. I need to reroute this conversation so I don’t reveal anything else. But evidently smart isn’t always me. Because, to my mortification, I hear myself continuing. “No one was making a move on me.”
His frown deepens. “Are you talking about Heather?”
“I don’t know who Heather is.”
“Heather is who I was talking to by the Jeep when you came out.”
Oh. Her name is Heather.
“I’m not talking about her or anyone else. I said that no one was making a move on me.”
“That’s not exactly how you said it. Heather was just being friendly.”
“Oh please.” There’s no sense in pretending now. He’s obviously figured it out. And I’m still bristling with resentment for no reason that makes any sense. “That wasn’t just friendliness. She was totally into you. She was practically pawing you. I’m sorry if I got in the way of it.”
It’s one of the rare times when I can see genuine feeling on his face. He looks surprised. Impatient. Rather baffled. “Are you being serious?” he asks in an even gruffer voice.
“About what? I’m just saying. If I wasn’t here, you could have taken her up on her offer.”
“And what? Had a quick fuck behind the barn?”
“Nothing would have been wrong with that if it’s what you wanted.”
