Page 69 of Really Truly Yours

Her smile falls. “There’s some really awesome stuff in here.”

I don’t need handouts, nice or not.

Her gaze lingers. Finally, her shoulders drop with a sigh. “Okay. I guess I’ll have to haul them across town. Maybe Gray can put them in my car for me.”

Across town? Surely that can’t be too far in Chandor.

She returns to the sink, dodging the bag in the middle of the floor. “No rush. I don’t think the place is open for donations again until next week.”

Why do I feel bad? Sure, she looks exhausted, and I’m certain she wants the giant bag gone, but that’s not my problem.

Problem? As she returns to the sink, I eye the bag like it’s a pirate’s treasure. My wardrobe is totally lame. Boring. Dull. Cheap.

And new clothes, cheap or not, cost real money. “I’ll take them.”

She spins. “You will?”

I nod.

“Oh, that’d be wonderful! I really think you’ll find some things that work for you. Some of it’s barely worn. And, yes, my motives are totally selfish. Now I don’t have to worry about lugging it out of here.”

Gray breezes through the archway into the kitchen. I swear the air thickens. My wounded pride is suddenly irrelevant. His hair is brushed, its longish strands damp, carefully slicked into place but starting to curl around the ears. The long-sleeved t-shirt stretched across his chest is bright white, contrasting perfectly with the tanned skin on his face. His jeans are—

Forget it.

That rat. Here I sit, sticky, stinky, and looking like something the cat dragged in.

His keys jingle as he sets them, his wallet, and his phone, onto the end of the bar.

Avery opens a glass-fronted cabinet with white dishes perfectly stacked. “Let me fix you a plate, Gray.”

“Thanks, Aves.”

She fills another plate with double the portion she gave me.

Gray fills the chair to my left and pours a crazy amount of sweet-smelling blueberry syrup onto his not-so-short stack of pancakes.

Maybe two minutes later, Avery and I share grins.

“What?” he asks oh-so innocently, wiping his mouth behind the final swallow.

Avery pointedly stares at the empty dish.

He pats his stomach. “So? You know I’m a growing boy.”

She dabs up a crumb beside his plate. “Sorry, champ. You may be the younger brother, but you’re going to have to find a new excuse.”

He tosses his napkin aside, exhaling. “Yeah, my little holiday will be over soon and I’ll have to get serious about training again.”

She smiles toward me. “The guy’s a regular health nut when he’s in training and during the season.”

His cheeks puff out. “I hope I have more seasons in me.”

She pats his hand. “You will.”

“Thanks for saying it.” He squeezes her fingers. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something, Avery.”

She sits back, palm on her stomach. “Sure. What’s up?”