Page 65 of Really Truly Yours
My sweater is splotched, but I follow Grayson’s gaze. His shirt is literally dripping, and his shorts are soaked an ugly duo of shades.
I cover my mouth. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s…” Fixated at the disaster on his front, he flicks his free hand. Liquid flicks off. “Fine.”
I hope the coffee didn’t burn.
An obnoxious smirk sculpts itself across Donny’s whiskery cheeks. “Well, now. Forget sleep. You kids need a shower.”
I feel a grimace, along with a hot, consuming blush. I could smack Donny. His word choice was deliberate.
He grins, completely un-sorry. What is his deal all of a sudden?
Grayson’s frowning mouth makes a show of chastising Donny, but his eyes sparkle. Removing the drippy glass from my hand, he goes into the bathroom and dumps what’s left of both drinks, returning with a wad of paper towels. He stoops down and soaks what he can from the tile.
Meanwhile, I stand like an idiot, agape. This giant, hotshot man is cleaning up his own mess?
Um, my mess?
He returns to the bathroom. Water runs. A moment later, he leans against the frame of the door, swiping a fresh paper towel over his hands and up his forearms. “You ready, Syd? Let’s give this troublemaker some alone time to think about what he’s done.”
“Hey, now. Weren’t my fault!”
Grayson’s eyebrows lower. “You know what I’m talking about, old man.” He approaches and gives Donny a final tap on the shoulder. “See you in a few, okay? Oh, and hey, do what the nurses tell you.”
Donny’s grunt rattles the bed, so I feel certain Carly, or whoever the day nurse is, will earn her keep.
Indeed, the nurse’s station is full of new faces as Grayson and I head for the elevator. Every one of those faces watches our approach. He smiles, nods—and rests his hand at my waist.
The spot on my back is warm, from the stares and from a certain someone’s touch. When Grayson pushes the down button at the elevator, I use the moment to reclaim my own space. This touching thing he’s started is…
Nice.
Uh-uh. Unwelcome?
Okay, that’s a bit strong.
It’s only Chandor, so there’s no big parking garage or anything, just a large lot, and we’re parked close.
Correction. Grayson is parked close. I’m merely along for the ride.
He slips ahead and opens my door, then walks around, gets in, and waits as his seat and the steering wheel automatically adjust.
I roll my eyes. In my dreams.
“Syd, mind if I stop by the house real quick?” He pulls out his phone and taps in a text while he talks.
What is this nickname business?
“I need to change clothes.”
“I…sure.”
He tosses the phone to the console and pushes the start button.
A button, not a keyed ignition. By the time I own a car with any of these latest features, new ones will be flying to the moon.
Within minutes, we’re in an area of Chandor I’m not acquainted with, neighborhoods I would never know anyone living in. Well, except Grayson, a fleeting anomaly. Soon, he’ll be back to his old life, and that will be that.