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“The next place isn’t far. Let’s see how much I can share before we run into Rachel again,” he says and then smiles.
Twenty-Two
“—heard a wind farm is going up here, which backs to the property line of this house. Now I don’t know much about luxury ranches but it’s something you’ll need to consider.”
I zoom in on the satellite view of the second house and pass my phone to Grant who takes it and stares. A scowl pinches the skin between his brows together.
“Another cup of coffee, ma’am?” the waitress asks, coming over to our booth with a pot in her hand.
“Ah, yes. I mean, actually, no, thank you. With how much caffeine is in my system right now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight as it is,” I shoot her a smile.
She nods then turns to Grant. “What about you, mister?”
“What? Oh, no thanks,” he mutters, barely sparing her a glance as he gives me my phone. He leans back in his seat as the waitress nods and walks off to her next table.
The small diner we’ve stopped at is charming, with a fifty’s vibe and an elderly patronage to go with it. It’s late, closing in around ten o’clock. This was the only place open for miles except for the occasional fast food restaurant. I would’ve thought the place would be beneath Grant Gipson, but he strolled in and flashed the older hostess a winning smile and has been amenable this entire time. In fact, he’s been much more laid back than I’ve ever seen him. It’s a breath of fresh air dealing with the business side of Grant.
“How do you know all of this?” Grant asks, grabbing his soda and sucking it down.
I shrug. “As you already know, I’ve been thinking about getting back into the real estate game. Lately, I’ve been doing research on the market around here. Every night, I typically scroll through available properties and do a little digging.”
Grant nods thoughtfully as he watches me closely. I try to hold his gaze, but this isn’t the cruel Grant I’m used to. The Grant before me is watching me with interest and something else… Unable to hold his gaze, mine drops to the tabletop.
“Rachel should have told me about the wind farm,” he mutters in disgust. “And the fact that the first property backs to a property my fatherjustbought. That was a good call to check who owned that.”
Yes, she should have. But I know why she didn’t. That woman is all about the commission. If Grant chose either of those properties, Rachel would be making almost triple the money than if Grant bought the third house. And if those houses didn’t work out later on? Well, Grant could come find her, and she’d happily sell it for a second commission. Rather than say this, however, I remain silent, basking in the glow of Grant’s rare praise.
Reaching down, I grab a fry off my plate and bite into it. They’ve long since grown cold, but they’re still delicious. As I eat, I force myself to look up. Grant reaches up to run his fingers through his hair. Ever since we left Rachel at the third house, he’s been raking his fingers through his auburn waves. He’s hot when he’s dressed to the nines, but seeing him a bit flustered and frazzled… I like it even more.
I really need to get away from this kid before I start thinking I like his company.
As if the waitress can hear my thoughts, she walks by again and places the check between us. I snatch it up before Grant can bother to reach for it. He raises a brow and I shoot him a dark look.
“I’ll pay for my own.”
“I think I can handle the bill,” he objects, holding his hand out for it.
“And let everyone in here think this is a date? No thanks.” I reach into my purse and pull out a ten. I meet Grant’s eyes as I tell him, “You owe eleven thirty-seven. I’ll take care of the tip.”
“What’s so wrong with this being considered a date?”
I roll my eyes. “C’mon Grant. Like either of us would wantthat.”
He hums with a slight nod before sliding out of his side of the booth and walking away. I watch as he heads over to the counter and hands our waitress a plastic card. Wait, what? When did he pull out his wallet? And is he really paying? Heat flares to life in my cheeks as the waitress takes it with a smile. Damn him! Of course, just when I think I can actually like anything about Grant, he goes and ruins it. I slide out of my seat, leaving behind my ten as a tip, and head for the door.
Outside, the night has grown considerably cooler. Without a jacket, I wrap my arms around myself as I head toward Grant’s truck. As I do, a car roars to life nearby. I jump in surprise as headlights momentarily blind me. Behind me the door to the diner opens. I turn at the sound of footsteps headed toward me. Grant comes to a stop beside me and raises a brow.
“What was that about?” I hiss.
“I didn’t want anyonethinkingit was a date.” He shrugs. “So I made it a point to let the waitress, and everyone else in there, know itdefinitelywas one.”
I growl as a smug smile pulls at his mouth.
“Take me home.” I stomp past him toward his truck.
I shoo off his hands when he tries to help me up into his truck, and I ignore his laughter as he watches me struggle until I make it up into my seat. When he’s climbed in and we’re pulling away, Grant asks,
“What’s so wrong with a date with me?”
