Home > My True Love (The Steeles at Silver Island #2)(8)

My True Love (The Steeles at Silver Island #2)(8)
Author: Melissa Foster

Grant’s mind went to Jules and how much he’d like to be alone in the vines with her, but he glowered at Wells. “Stop that gossipy shit.”

“It could happen. The Steele girls are hot, and Fitz is always horny.” Wells laughed.

Fitz was the golden boy, having followed in their father’s footsteps, and helped run Silver House. But Grant would still kick his ass if he was hitting on Jules.

Brant clapped a hand on Grant’s shoulder. “Come on, we’re going to check out the haunted walk. My sisters said it was ten times scarier this year.”

“I think I’ll skip it.” He didn’t need to run into Jules and ruin her night even more.

“Is the big, bad soldier afraid of the dark?” Wells goaded him.

“Hardly.” Grant guzzled his beer and went to toss his empty bottle into a trash barrel beside one of the tables. There was a cauldron of candy on the table, and his mind went straight to Jules. He had the urge to look for an Almond Joy, which was really messed up.

“Go ahead, grab a handful of candy,” Brant said. “Did you hear about Mr. Steele’s prank?”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Mr. S is the bomb,” Wells said. “They’ve already taken all of the fake Almond Joys out of the cauldrons.”

“Where are the real ones?” As the question left his lips, he wondered where the hell it’d come from.

“Who knows,” Wells said. “Ready to hit the haunted walk, or do I have to call you chickenshit from now on?”

Grant narrowed his eyes. “You call me that, and you’ll be hoping chicks dig a toothless cowboy.”

They headed for the haunted walk at the far side of the vineyard. Some of the rows of vines were pitch-black, others were dimly lit, and a few were illuminated by flashes of strobe lights. Screams rang out, both real and from hidden speakers playing eerie music with howls and evil laughter. A pack of teenage girls came sprinting out of one of the rows giggling and clinging to one another. The Steeles knew how to put on a show. They’d been doing it for years. Grant used to run around the vineyard at night with Jules’s brothers and about half the other teenagers in town, popping out and scaring each other. Rather than trying to chase the kids away, the Steeles had made an event out of it, and thus the Field of Screams had been born. They were always thinking of their kids above all else. Grant wished his family had done the same.

Wells stopped at the head of a row, and Brant stopped at the next one. Grant kept walking to the very last row, hoping to get far away from the noise.

Wells hollered, “See you on the flip side,” and in they went.

As Grant walked down the row, squinting to see in the darkness, bursts of light seeped in through the other rows. Fake ghouls and scary masks peered out from the vines. He listened to the screams ringing out around him, remembering the fun he’d had there as a kid. Hell, he’d had a good time a few years ago, but when he’d lost his leg, it had slapped him with perspective. He’d seen enough real-life scary shit for a lifetime. This was kids’ stuff.

He passed the parts where flashing lights seeped in and was now in total darkness. Shrieks and laughter sounded in the distance, and he focused on the pitch-blackness ahead of him. He didn’t remember the rows being so damn long. He heard a noise and looked behind him, darkness stretching out so far, he couldn’t see the end of the row. He turned around as a shriek rang out and someone lunged from the vines. His instincts kicked in, and in the space of a breath, he had them trapped against his chest, his forearm around their neck.

“Grant,” Jules said, breathy and urgent.

“Jules?” Holy hell.

She turned in his arms, clinging to his shirt, those gorgeous eyes glittering up at him. Her soft curves pressed against his body, causing his temperature to rise, along with a very greedy body part that had no business rising to the occasion.

“Why, Mr. Silver,” she said tauntingly. “If you’d wanted me in your arms, all you had to do was ask.”

“Christ, Jules. I could have hurt you.”

“You’d never hurt me.” She flattened her hands against his chest, heat blazing in all the places their bodies touched. “Your heart is beating so fast. Feel mine.”

She took his hand and pressed his palm on the swell of her breast, their eyes glued to each other. Her heart was thundering, and the longer she held his hand there, the harder his beat and the more he wanted to see if she tasted as sweet and sinful as she acted. He opened his mouth to tell her he was sorry for getting mad earlier and that she didn’t deserve it, but he was too busy trying to tamp down the electricity sizzling between them, and all that came out was a warning—“Jules”—and not the one he needed to say. Back away before I kiss you.

A seductive smile curved her tempting lips, and she said, “See what you do to me?”

Could she feel what she did to him?

“Grant! Where are you, buddy?” Brant’s voice and rapid footsteps approaching snapped him from his trance, and as he took a step back, Jules disappeared into the vines.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

“MY SISTERS WERE pissed that they didn’t get a chance to hang out with you last night,” Brant said as he walked into the boathouse where Grant was working Monday afternoon.

Grant lowered the electric sander from the hull of the boat and pulled down his face mask, struggling to push aside thoughts of Jules. He could still see her alluring eyes drawing him in between the vines. It was bad enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said, the way she’d felt in his arms, and the wicked thoughts she’d conjured. But to add insult to injury, the stupid cat had found a sparkly green bow that must have fallen off Jules’s outfit last night and he’d carried it around like a boasting peacock. He’d slept on Grant’s pillow with that fucking bow beneath his paw, and this morning he’d carried it out to the kitchen when Grant had fed him.

Fucking traitor.

Remembering that Brant was waiting for an answer, Grant forced his thoughts to his sisters, a surefire way to quell the heat thoughts of Jules had caused, and said, “I’m pretty good at pissing off sisters. You might as well get used to it.” Keira had given him grief when he’d gone to her coffee shop, the Sweet Barista, on his way into work. She’d tried to wrangle him into having dinner with her and her girlfriends tonight. He loved his sister, but making small talk with a bunch of twentysomethings he had nothing in common with didn’t sound like a good time. He’d taken a rain check, and when he’d picked up his coffee, Keira had written Troll on the side of his cup instead of his name and had blown him a kiss on his way out the door. The pest.

“Why’d you take off so early?” Brant flashed a grin, revealing the dimples that Keira and her friends talked about like they were God’s gift to women. “Did you hit up the yacht full of hot chicks Wells told us about?”

Because I’d been seconds away from kissing Jules when you interrupted us. He’d had to get the hell out of there before he got himself in trouble. “Nah. I just had shit to take care of.”

“You missed a good time. We all went down to Rock Bottom after the party.” Wells owned Rock Bottom Bar and Grill, on the other side of the marina. “But I get it, and for what it’s worth, everyone was really glad you showed up.” Brant ran his hand along the hull of the boat. “She’s coming along nicely.”

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