Page 66 of Love and Gravity

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Page 66 of Love and Gravity

“Yeah, I’m sure it was,” Grace said awkwardly and then she gave his arm a quick pat. “I’m sure you’re fine.” What if Anton was right? What if her list was bullshit and Jones was really just that boring? That wasn’t a crime, was it?

“You have a flower on your head,” Jones pointed out.

Instantly, Grace didn’t care if he was boring or not. He was a crime. Just the whole man. A boring, boring, crime.

“Yeah? And?” She straightened up, giving him a challenging look.

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think it’s neat.”

Grace frowned. She hadn’t expected that. “Oh...thank you.”

He nodded at her, but was already scanning the busy coffee shop. “No problem. Well, I guess I’ll go back to my table. Tell Mr. Kovalev I’ll get the reports to him first thing. Have a nice day.” He gave her a wave and then was off, loping to his table with all the grace of a drunk giraffe.

“I will. Thanks, you too.” She watched Jones make it back to his table and reopen his sketch pad without a care in the world.

She frowned and rubbed a hand across her beanie. “Have a nice day? My hat is neat?” Grace whispered to herself with a groan.

What was she doing?

Jones was perfectly nice. A little bland, like oatmeal, but oatmeal was nutritional and part of a healthy diet. Where had she gotten off thinking he was a thief just because he was a tad boring? He even liked her hat!

Pulling her hat off her head with a yank, she stomped out of the coffeehouse and onto the sidewalk. So much for a disguise.

Turning from side to side, she looked for Anton. Maybe he hadn’t gone very far yet

“You really did it this time,” she muttered to herself. He’d been pissed when he’d left. She could see it in his face plain as day. Why hadn’t she thought about the list before she handed it over to him?Of courseAnton was upset that she had focused on his team. She would have been the same, if the roles had been reversed.

No, she would have been 9 billion times worse. She would have been livid, furious, and irrational, at best, if someone had proposed that her team harbored a thief. She stopped and put her hands over her face.

“Crap,” she whispered, the full weight of what she’d done hitting her.

They were her people—she loved and cared for each of them with the utmost attention and adoration, and would have been prepared to duel anyone who questioned their innocence.

She would have been an unholy terror of the first order had Anton done what she had just done. But he hadn’t done that. No, instead he had remained level-headed and excused himself.

He’d told her to call him when she was done. She twisted the hat in her hands in frustration at the wounded look in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you at least tell me who you were looking at when you made that list?”

“Because I’m an actual idiot that doesn’t know how to do feelings,” she huffed. She pulled out her phone and sucked in a deep breath. She owed him an apology—oh, man, did she ever. But because she was a chicken she didn’t call him. She texted.

Can I come over later?she texted with all the nervousness of a middle schooler. Who knew that in a relationship with a former rake and renowned playboy, she would be the terrible communicator?

Classic.

A gentle ping in her phone made her freeze. She swallowed hard and took her phone out with a shaky hand to see the message from Anton.

Eight okay?

That was three hours from now. Not near enough time for her to figure out how to take her foot out of her mouth.

Perfect. See you then,Grace fired back.

She had approximately 180 minutes, or 10,800 seconds, to figure out how to make things right between herself and Anton, and there wasn’t a moment to lose.

* * *

The hinges on Anton’s hotel room door had only begun their slide when Grace spoke. “I was out of line earlier.”




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