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At Starbucks, Greyson’s already ordered his coffee when he asks me, “Want anything?”
“It’s fine. I can get myself a peppermint tea.”
“One peppermint tea,” he tells the barista.
“Greyson,” I say, as she walks away to make our orders.
“What?”
“I told you—”
He waves his hand. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“Fine.” He scowls as he eyes me. “I can write it off as a business expense. Happy?”
“It’s just that, after all those nights at Nayara Springs, I don’t want you to think—”
“What? That you’re using me for free peppermint teas?”
“No, I just—”
“I enjoy spending money on you. Nothing wrong with that.”
As soon as the words are out of Greyson’s lips his eyes widen. Then he scowls. “That came out… Forget it.”
Talk about awwwwwkwarrrrd…
“Sure,” I say.
Minutes later, as we’re sipping our drinks, sitting on less-than-comfy airport seats, he continues, “About before—I overreacted.”
“Which time?”
Greyson glances my way, chuckles. “Maybe I deserve that. I was talking about your comment as to why I want you on my team as Storm Media’s cinematographer. It got to me.” He frowns. “My dad was exactly the type of guy who would hire someone just because they had a thing together. Me, I knew as soon as I saw you behind the camera for the first time out in the rainforest that I wanted you on our team.”
“Oh.” I sip my tea too fast, burning my tongue slightly. “Good.”
“I want you to know that,” he says vehemently. “And that, whatever happens when we get back, as long as you want to work for Storm Inc. and show the skill you have this past week, you will.”
“No matter what?” I tease him, slurring slightly as I nurse my still-burnt tongue.
“Don’t push it.”
“Damn it.” I sigh. “I so wanted to instate a ‘Bring Your Cactus to Work Day’.”
His attempt not to smile fails. “One thing at a time, Harley.”
I give him an ‘OK, captain’ gesture. “Gotcha.”
He smiles at me and keeps on smiling. I smile at him and keep on smiling. I couldn’t stop if I tried.
It’s only a half an hour or so later, when we’re on the jet, which is as private-plane fancy as you’d expect (the highlight for me is the white leather seats that also happen to be memory foam, perfectly shaping themselves to our butts) that Greyson says, “Good thing you wanted to get home.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
The look he directs my way is quizzical. “You mentioned how you missed your cousin and ferret at least seven different times. Plus your to-do list of stuff for when you got back.” His gaze goes assessing. “You did want to go back, didn’t you?”
I turn so that I’m facing the window, glad he can’t see how my heart has suddenly picked up its pace. “Yeah, definitely. Of course. Why?”
He shrugs. “Couple times when I was drunk or tired, I figured…” He shakes his head, presses his lips together. “Forget it.”
I whirl around to glare at him. “Oh, hell no. You have to tell me now.”
“Harley—”
“Greyson. Tell me.”
“Can’t you just forget it? It’s not a big deal.”
“No,” I sing-song, “Tell me.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously. Tell me!”
“Just how nice it would be to stay another week or two, maybe even longer.”
“Oh,” I say, so I don’t say what I want to say.
“Right.” He turns to face his window. “Like I said, not a big deal.”
“Hmm,” I say, so I still don’t say what I want to say.
As he drifts off beside me, it takes all the self-control I have not to say ‘Me too.’
Although I don’t have enough to stop myself from wondering: What happens next?Chapter 19Greyson
I wake up in the middle of the night. We left the window slot open and I can see murky clouds scudding across a navy sky. Harley’s asleep, her head drooped onto my shoulder. I leave it there.
I glare at the clouds.
You’re losing it, Greyson.
Although that isn’t right at all. I’ve already lost it. Sleeping with Harley was… not a mistake, but sure as shit not a smart move either.
Staying with her at Nayara Springs days longer than necessary, while dodging calls from my brothers and just about everyone else, then admitting to her that I’d actually considered staying even longer- what the fuck was I thinking?
That’s just it: I wasn’t.
But now…
My gaze wanders to Harley’s sleeping face, her half-smiling lips.
Wonder if the smile would grow if I gave them a kiss…
I grab my phone to distract myself.
On it, there’s a message on my voicemail that I got while in the airport but never checked.
“Hi Greyson, it’s Madeline. Good to hear you’ll be back soon. Just wanted to check in and give you a heads-up on something that’s in the works before you get back, if you have a chance. No pressure.”
Fuck.
It’s the ‘no pressure’ that tips me off. Despite her chirpy, ‘fish are people too’ tone, Madeline only uses the expression when things are absolute shit. Which means, on top of everything else, once I get back I’m going to have some sort of shit-storm to deal with.
