“Sounds good,” Wells said.
Brant nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Sorry, man. I’ve got stuff to do.” Grant finished his sandwich, ignoring Archer’s narrowing eyes.
“Bullshit, Silver,” Archer said evenly. “You’re coming over for one beer, and then you can do whatever it is you claim you have to do. You owe me.”
“Owe you my ass.”
“I didn’t know you two were into that,” Wells teased.
Grant cocked his arm like he was going to punch him, and Wells backed up, laughing.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Archer warned. “I covered for you when we were sixteen and you went to the cave at Fortune’s Landing with a chick who was here for a week with her family.”
“Ho-ly shit. I had forgotten about that.” Grant grinned, remembering that hot and dirty afternoon with the eighteen-year-old blonde from Maryland. “That’s definitely worth a beer.”
“Great. Pick up a few six-packs on your way over.” Archer chuckled and turned to leave.
“Want to borrow some hand lotion for that afternoon delight?” Brant yelled after him.
Wells hollered, “Is your left hand a blonde or a brunette?”
They cracked up, making one joke after another, until they were all doubled over with laughter.
Brant looked at Grant and said, “You can’t tell me you didn’t miss this while you were gone.”
“Like I’d miss a hemorrhoid.”
WHEN GRANT FINALLY got home that evening, he was glad he’d gone to Archer’s to hang out with the guys. They’d ordered pizza, played a little poker, and shot the shit. It reminded him of how comfortable he had once been on the island, without the pressure of always being on guard. Nobody stared to see if they could tell he was wearing a prosthesis or acted like he was so different they couldn’t relate to who he’d become. Even when he’d first returned to the island, his closest friends had never pushed him for details about his injury or his last mission. They’d offered to talk, but after eleven months of therapy, Grant was pretty much talked out.
He climbed from his truck and headed up to the house, remembering how shocked he’d been to realize the sinfully sexy woman standing outside his garage last night had been Jules Steele. He hated that he’d upset her. She didn’t deserve that. But maybe now she’d sprinkle her happy dust on some other lucky guy, one who wasn’t struggling to figure out how to live a life he’d never planned for.
He pulled open the screen door and saw a large cardboard box by the front door, several blank canvases leaning against the wall beside it.
What the hell?
He crouched to look in the box, and his hair fell into his eyes. He’d worn his hair military short forever, but he wasn’t the same guy anymore, and he didn’t want to pretend he was. He pushed it out of his face, his gaze moving over paints, brushes, and other art accoutrements. A pink envelope with his full name written in swirly, gold letters lay on top of two palettes. He pulled out the note and read it.
Maybe this will feel even better than a gun in your hand. There was a smiley face next to it. Grant felt himself smiling, too, and clenched his jaw.
There was no signature, but Jules didn’t need one. The glittery ink, the thoughtfulness, and the smiley face were as good as fingerprints.
Christ, Pix, what are you doing?
He’d never met anyone like her, on or off the island. Most people became jaded as they got older and life slapped them around a little. He had no idea how Jules had kept all her sweetness and positivity, especially after surviving cancer and dealing with the stress the Steeles had gone through with Jock and Archer. He was glad she held on to her glittery outlook, because he wouldn’t wish the shit going on in his head on anyone.
Especially her.
JULES STOOD ON a ladder in the back of the Happy End gift shop taking down the last of the Halloween decorations. She loved everything about her shop, from her apartment upstairs, to the red-framed picture windows and iron giraffes out front. She sold a plethora of items, like greeting cards, mugs, beachy signs, and pillows boasting sayings about summertime and love, stuffed animals, fancy scarves, and more. They stayed fairly busy through the winter, though they closed earlier than in the summer. The day had flown by in a flurry of taking down Halloween decorations and dealing with customers and deliveries, all great distractions from thinking about her almost kiss with Grant last night. He had tried so hard to push her away with his raised voice and sharp words, but she’d been so determined to get him to the party, she’d tucked the sting he’d caused down deep, next to the flicker of attraction that had burned hotter when she’d seen him shirtless and had full-on flamed when she’d put on his zombie makeup, only to nearly combust when she’d been in his strong arms in the vineyard. There was no denying their explosive chemistry or their almost kiss.
God, she’d wanted that kiss.
She’d been trying to extinguish those flames all day, but it was impossible. She could still feel the sexual tension vibrating in his body and her skin burning for his touch. She got hot and bothered just thinking about the way he’d looked at her like he’d wanted to carry her into the woods and devour her. It changed the way she saw him, the way she heard him. Now every time she thought about the harsh way he’d spoken to her, instead of hearing anger, she heard the pleas of a man in need of a beacon of light in his darkness.
Oh, how she wanted to be that beacon for him, to guide him to a better place, to see that light in his eyes again. She could—would—do that for him, for his family, for them.
In a hopeful mood, she began singing to the tune of “Hello Darkness My Old Friend.”
“Goodbye darkness nobody’s friend…Hello, Grant, take my hand…I’ll lead you to my Promised Land.”
She felt her cheeks burn, and her eyes darted to Bellamy behind the register. She was relieved that Bellamy, as stylish as ever in tan linen pants and a blousy floral top, was looking at her phone and hadn’t heard her singing. Jules felt a little guilty for not telling her about last night, but she loved working with her best friend, and she didn’t want anything to mess up their friendship. She had other employees who worked for her on an as-needed basis, and over the summer she hired local high schoolers to help cover the busiest season, but she and Bellamy made a great team, and they ran the shop together over the winter.
She tucked that guilt away, told her horny mind to shut up, and tossed another hopeful thought out to the universe, as she’d been doing all day, that Grant would find solace in the gifts she’d left on his porch and that they might help him clear away all that anger.
The bells above the door chimed as she reached up to unhook one of the anchors holding up the stuffed witch riding a broom she was taking down, and as if she’d conjured him, Grant walked in. His dark eyes swept across the store, hitting her with the impact of a hot gust of wind. Her breath left her lungs in a rush of desire, her body tingling from head to toe. She clutched the hook above her head, hoping her knees wouldn’t give out. She could count on one hand the number of guys who had ever given her tingles, and she was pretty sure her third-grade crush on Carey Osten, one of Tara’s older brothers, counted about as much as her eight-grade crush on Justin Timberlake did.