Page 26 of Her Pretty Words
I look down at myself. In my elegant fit of rage, I didn’t change out of what I slept in. I’m wearing cotton shorts, which is nothing short of a miracle given that I never sleep in anything besides underwear and a T-shirt.
Since I don’t have the breath to express it vocally, I shoot him my middle finger. He playfully tosses it away with his hand, but I don’t miss the surge of electricity shooting through my body from the brief contact.
If you’re this breathless now, I can only imagine what would happen if I ever got my hands on you.
My cheeks heat.
Coming into view of our houses, he says, “Come inside, I’ll make you breakfast.”
“That’s okay.” I turn toward him. “I normally just have coffee.”
His right eyebrow shoots up. “Yeah, that’s not going to work. You’ll pass out in that house all by yourself, and I’d feel sort of guilty I hadn’t insisted you ate after running.”
“Fine. But only because your house is closer to me, and my legs are about to give out.”
He chuckles. “I’ll take it.”
Once we’re inside, I toe off my shoes since everything is so pristine. He gestures for me to make myself at home on his couch but I’m sweaty and gross, so I sit on the barstool.
Grayson moves with a certain type of grace, bouncing back and forth between scrambling eggs, cooking bacon on another pan, and toasting two bagels.
He pulls a matte black mug from the cabinet and places it beneath his coffee maker, which is far from simple. He has one of those expensive espresso machines you’d find in a café. I have no idea how it works, but he’s moving swiftly, like he uses the appliance every morning. His ability to mindlessly multitask is an elegance in itself.
He’s careful with the steaming mug, holding the handle and securing the bottom with his other hand. It’s filled to the brim, and when he places it on the counter before me, brown liquid spills over the top. I lean over and sip it with a loud slurp, nearly burning my tongue in the process. A delightful flavor coats my tastebuds. This is the best coffee I’ve had, and that’s saying a lot, considering I’ve been to every café within the vicinity of my house to write.
“This is delicious,” I say with foam on my top lip. I swear his eyes drop as I lick it away.
“Careful, Mace, I think you accidentally complimented me.”
“I was merely noting the excellent taste your fancy machine created.” I stick my nose higher in the air.
He vibrates with a soft chuckle, plating the meal he prepared. After setting the dish before me, he grabs another from the cabinet, and I note it’s the only other plate he owns. When it’s filled with food, he sets it beside me. The ceramic is chipped onhis plate, but mine is perfectly whole, and I realize he gave me the better one.
He ambles around the counter. The stool’s legs squeak against the floor and his body heat is touching the entirety of my left once he’s seated.
I can hear Walter’s hateful words ricocheting inside my head as I eat. My heart is pumping faster, and frustrated tears prick my eyes. I can’t let them fall in front of the man beside me. Knowing him, he will ask me what’s wrong and somehow figure it out without me saying a word. But my emotions are running wild in this place of comfortability. And not this house. I mean Grayson sitting beside me. Despite how irritating he is, he makes me feelsafe.
I urge the shine from my eyes and once I’m successful I clear my throat. “You cook?” I ask. I take the last bite and set my fork on the empty plate, causing it to clatter.
He watches me through thick eyelashes. “Only breakfast items and peanut butter and jelly.”
“Is that why you order takeout so often?”
He raises a brow. “Only a stalker would know something like that, Mace.”
I bite my cheeks. The only reason I know is because Sarah told me, but if I tell him that, he’d learn I was talking about him. I don’t say anything. Instead, I reach for his empty dish to take to the sink. He grips my forearm, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’ll take care of that,” he says.
Like once before, this page seems to get ripped from our story and folded into a different one. One where he’s not removing his hand and I’m not asking him to. His thumb gently swipes across my skin, making me shiver with goosebumps. Our gazes catch for a moment, then my eyes drop to his adams apple that bobs as if he’s just swallowed.
Instinctively, I tuck in my bottom lip to wet it. His eyes track the movement, and when they flit to mine, they seem to have darkened.
“Stop looking at me like that, Mace, because I’m two seconds away from forgetting you’re engaged to another man and hauling you on top of this counter.”
I should react to his words as if they were a threat, but instead my breath catches. Everything else falls away. It’s only Grayson, his hand on my arm, and my imagination running wild.
“You’re self-destructive.”Walter’s voice chastises me from the comfort of my own mind.
I blink my intrusive thoughts away, and then pull my arm from him, his fingertips brushing the length of it. “Looking at you how?” I ask as though I’m clueless. Like whatever fell over us was something innocent.