608 Alpha Avenue (Cherry Falls)

His grip eases enough for me to shift my weight.

“Red isn’t my color, and I’m no thong girl …” I grin and brace myself. “But I’m not wearing panties at all, so—ah!”

My words are halted by the sudden movement of Grayson’s hands. He flips me around in a one-eighty that’s so swift, so quick, that I can’t even catch myself. Instead, he catches me.

Panting, I look up into his eyes. The hints of blue are gone, and they’re dark like a predator that spots defenseless prey.

Only, I’m not prey, and I’m certainly not defenseless. But I’m willing. I’m so damn willing.

His chest moves up and down with the intensity of every breath. I don’t dare move out of his arms. I stay pinned in place by both his muscled arms and the weight of his stare.

“I’ve stayed away from you. I’ve made it my fucking life’s mission not to be alone with you or get involved in your life from the day we met,” he says, his tone bordering on a growl. “And now you do this.”

I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. He’s tried to avoid me? He’s tried to avoid this?

What the hell then?

“It’s polite of you to blame this situation on me,” I say, attempting to pull away from his touch. “I was moving on, and you’re the one who stuck your nose into my conversation at Cherrywood—”

“A conversation you initiated to piss me off.”

I shrug. “Maybe. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I didn’t realize how much you didn’t want to be alone with me, and I was thinking that …”

A shadow drops across his handsome face. The softness in his features that remained despite his brusque tone is gone.

“Never mind.” I try to turn inside the cage he’s built with his arms but can’t move. I sigh and look at him. “Grayson, please.”

“Please what, Haley?”

His tone is gravelly and raw, yet pregnant with … something else. Something more. Something that sparks a tiny flame in the bottom of my stomach.

“Please let me go.”

He sucks in a breath. “Is that what you want?”

“Wouldn’t you if I told you that I’d tried so hard to stay away from you?”

He rolls his tongue around his cheek again. “That’s not what I meant—at least, not how you took it.”

“Then explain or let me go. Honestly, I don’t care which one. Whatever is fastest, I guess.”

He looks over my head, taking advantage of the height difference between us, and gazes at the lake. He’s obviously mulling something over, and I appreciate that. I like a guy who thinks things through. But I also like a guy who doesn’t put me in a situation like this where I feel a healthy dose of embarrassment.

Maybe I read this all wrong. It wouldn’t be a shock. But Kaylee thought that he was into me too, and Kaylee isn’t always wrong. Maybe about Derrick, but the signs with him just weren’t there. I thought they were with Grayson.

“I’m going,” I say, pressing my hands flat on his chest.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t budge. The only movement that comes is from his eyes as they look back down at me.

They’re filled with apprehension but also a determination that leads me to believe that whatever he was pondering has been resolved.

“You’re a problem for me,” he says.

“Great.”

He almost smiles.

“This is new for me,” I tell him. “I usually get told what a letdown I am or what a problem I am for a man after we’ve been on at least one date. Getting dismissed without … anything, really, is a new concept.” I sigh. “I think I’ve reached a new level in pathetic-ness.”

And now I want to crawl under a rock.

What the heck was I thinking admitting that to Grayson?

He chuckles.

“This isn’t funny, Grayson, and I’d really like to leave and preserve what’s left of my self-confidence.”

He unlocks his hands from behind me. I start to move but realize that one palm sits snugly at the small of my back.

He reaches up, his eyes glued to mine, and brushes a strand of hair off my forehead. The trail of heat from his fingertips blazes a shot straight to my core.

Damn him.

“Grayson …”

“You are trouble.”

“I—”

“You’re going to shut the hell up and listen to me,” he says, shaking his head.

I flinch.

“I stay away from you because I don’t trust myself,” he says softly. “You’re this … basket of fucking sunshine. You’re sweet. Innocent. You …” He looks over my head again. “You’re built for the traditional life. Ed Sheeran songs.”

His gaze drops to mine.

I still, afraid to say anything lest it stops him from talking. My heart patters, my skin feels too small for my body as I fight the urge to scream at him to hurry up. To explain.

To tell me something I want to hear.

His thumb moves against the top of my shorts. It gets perilously close to my bare skin. I suck in a breath and try not to lean against his touch.