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“I’ll wait.”
Maybe he could convince himself not to think about Rory getting off. Or him getting Rory off.
Christ. Heat pooled in his groin.
He backed away, fumbling to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace. Of course he’dnoticedRory since she came back to Bliss Cove. He wouldn’t be a living, breathing male if he hadn’t. With her long black hair, pale skin and thick-lashed dark eyes, she’d caught his attention the second she’d first come into the Mousehole. And yeah, he often admired her body in worn jeans or ragged shorts and a seemingly endless supply of T-shirts displaying a computer pun or the logo of a classic rock or reggae artist.
When they’d first met, he’d appreciated her on a purely male level while also experiencing a tug deep inside, an urge to make her smile. But after their initial encounter, Rory had quickly proven to be a pain in his ass. She was glued to technology, she had the diet of a frat boy, she bitched at him every chance she got, and she attracted too damned much attention when she was sitting at the bar.
Grant eyed her as she stood on her toes to put a box on a shelf. She moved with swift economy, like she didn’t want to waste any energy. Her tie-dyed shirt rode up, exposing the pale skin of her lower back.
He shifted, crossing his ankle over his thigh. She was an irritant, like a pebble in his shoe. He couldn’thelpnoticing her.
Although, unlike a pebble, she was sometimes kind of entertaining, and she had an incongruity that he found intriguing—computer geek and sexy renegade rolled into one. He could see her slouched at her computer in a Bob Marley T-shirt and knee socks, backtracking algorithms and generating permutations. Did she wear glasses?
What the…
This was a bad idea. Why would he think she—
“Okay, I’m done.” She appeared at his side, her apron off and a ratty black backpack slung over one shoulder. “What do we need to talk about?”
“Come on.” He stood, jerking his thumb to the door. “I’m going over to the harbor to check on the day’s catch.”
“Fresh air and sunshine?”
“I’ll protect you.” He held the door open for her and they started down the street.
“So what’s this about?” She glanced at him. “You never want to talk to me.”
“I always talk to you.”
“But you don’twantto.”
“Who says?” He shot her an affronted look. “You’re the one who comes in bitching about everything from the uncomfortable booth to the singing fish.”
“That booth by the fireisuncomfortable, and the singing fish is a travesty.”
“Good thing it’s not your tavern.”
“Is that what you want to talk about? My distaste in your decorating choices?”
“Are you still looking for a place to stay?”
Wariness flickered over her expression. “Why?”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“You can stay in the cottage at the Mousehole.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about.” Stopping, he turned to face her. He should’ve figured out how to word this. She’d either be offended or think it was a joke. “My brother is getting married this weekend. He’s five years younger than me, which only reinforces the fact that our parents expected me to get married first. So, of course, my mother is lining up a bunch of single women for me to meet.”
“Seriously?” Her mouth twisted. “Like a haram or a slave auction? Sounds like a dream.”
“They’ll all be women from the right families, good social connections, that kind of thing. But part of the reason I left the Bay Area was to get away from set-ups like that. I don’t want to deal with it for an entire weekend, but I have to go to the wedding. I’d also like to be happy that I’m there for my brother. So if I show up with a girlfriend, I’ll get my mother off my back, I won’t have to entertain a harem, and everyone will be happy. I might even have a good time.”
