A real solution would be just to share his, an unwanted voice purrs in the back of my mind. I shove it aside.

I check my phone to find his response already there: I mean it.

What—don’t want me filing an abuse suit against Storm co? ;)

—Something like that.

—Seriously, Harley.

Seriously, Greyson. We have about two more days. And I’m a grown and capable adult.

—Don’t make me come over there and convince you.

I freeze. What the hell is he getting at, exactly?

Next second, my phone is ringing.

“I mean it,” he growls.

“Whoa, did you not get any sleep or something?” I tease.

“No, actually. And listen, I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about you.”

“Well, sorry. I’m not forcing you to worry about me over a stupid sleeping bag, OK? So just forget it.”

Silence, then a measured exhale. “Will you just take the goddamn sleeping bag?”

“Will you just drop it? I don’t get what the problem is.”

“I…” Another silence. “You know what, you’re right. Not a big deal. It’s not like you’re my…” A cough. “How did you sleep?”

Despite myself, I find myself biting back a smile. “Good, thanks for asking.”

“I saved some food for you out there. Russel was dead-set on feeding it to some parrots, but once I threatened him with burning his sombrero, he backed off.”

I laugh. “Oh, what a relief. Guess I should go have some now, then?”

“Right, yeah, I… don’t even know why we’re talking on the phone when we can be talking in person.”

“Your leadership gets better every day.”

“Careful,” he says, a serious note in his light voice.

“Got it, boss,” I say, “See ya!”

He’s halfway through “Don’t call me—” when I hang up.

I sit cross-legged, fluttering my knees up and down a bit, like I used to do in gymnastics.

God, I feel silly and goofy and stupid, and… Maybe I do know why he preferred talking on the phone. Maybe it’s the same for him as for me: it’s easier to control myself when I don’t have to see him, when the visceral magnet-pull of him is dulled a bit. Just a bit, though.

Outside, everyone else is packing up. I feel a guilty twinge that I shove down. It’s not like they woke me up or anything. If they wanted me up and going, they just had to ask.

“Ooh,” I say to Greyson, bare-chested and approaching as I spot what awaits me by the fire, “cinnamon toast crunch, my fav.”

“Even after his parrot idea was shot down, Russel swore he was saving it for his trip-end victory snack. He even tried getting us to eat some mushrooms that he was 60% sure weren’t poisonous, but I put my foot down.”

I open my mouth, still stretched in a goofy smile, waiting for something witty, or at least decent to come out. Instead, all that does is: “You’re good at that.”

He chuckles, then his face darkens. “With some things.”

I swallow. Just eat, Harley.

Then hopefully my brain will start functioning decently again. All I know now is that without a shirt Greyson looks hot as hell.

“So,” I say, once my bowl is filled. I look around again to be sure that we’re alone.

“So,” he says.

“Is that our thing?” I wonder aloud, “The so game?”

“I so hoped we were better than that.”

We laugh and laugh, and I can’t stop laughing, even though I know full well the joke wouldn’t be nearly as funny if anyone other than Greyson said it.

“Aren’t you two just peas in a pod,” Russel says companionably as he treks by with, for whatever reason, a fishing pole clasped against his shoulder.

Greyson and I exchange a look once he’s gone.

“About last night,” he says, careful to keep his voice low. “I have to apologize.”

I eye him blankly. “About?”

“You know what. I’ve been beyond inappropriate.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I’m surprised to hear my voice so biting and curt. “I didn’t realize that there was just one person in this thing, that I have no say whatsoever.”

“But I’m your boss. I’m the one who has the power, which means I should—”

“Oh Greyson?” I cut in.

“Yeah.”

I point at a heavy-looking rock a few steps away. “Can you get that for me?”

“Sure,” he says, headed that way within seconds.

A twinge of guilt goes through me as I see him hauling it back with extreme effort, sweat rolling off his face. By the time he plonks it down in front of me, I’m wearing a sweet smile.

“Thanks. You were saying about who had the power?”

Greyson’s jaw falls open. “But… you… I…”

I rise, then lean in to hiss in his face. “Don’t you go acting like this is all on you. I’m a grown woman. Maybe you’re my boss, but you’ve never once forced me or coerced me into anything. I do what I want. And I wanted you, so I did you.”

Greyson gapes at me.

Suddenly, here in the itchy forest with a big ant scuttling over my bare feet and Greyson staring at me like I’m suddenly speaking Mandarin and growing a goatee, is the last place I want to be.

Tags: Ashlee Price Billionaire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net