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.
“If I open that door, Haley, it’s not going to be good.”
“Why?” I say through the dryness of my throat.
He grins sadly. “You’re this white luxury car interior, and I’m just an oil-stained mechanic.”
The vulnerability riddled in his features is a shot to my heart. He fights it and recovers quickly from the moment of exposure.
“You’re an intelligent, hard-working, great-looking oil-stained mechanic,” I say. “So, I’m not sure what, exactly, you’re getting at. I mean, you can be a dick, but you have good moments. There’s real potential there.”
He shakes his head and fights a laugh. “I’m not … I’m not interested in the things you’re interested in. I don’t do relationships.”
“Why?” I ask, figuring there’s a bullshit answer I can pick apart. Besides, having his arm wrapped around me really, really works right now.
“You really want to know?”
“Yup.”
He swallows. “Okay. There’s a litany of reasons, but to keep it simple: Sex is best the first time. It’s new, and the anticipation can never be better than the moment just before you fuck. Second,” he says, ignoring whatever my face is doing in reaction to his admission, “I don’t want to take care of someone. I don’t want her to be my problem. I have enough of them on my own, let alone adding someone else’s feelings and family bullshit and electrical bills into the mix.”
I nod, my brain doing its best to sort through this mess.
“Resources allocation,” he continues, as if a dam has been burst and every excuse is forced to topple over the flood banks. “My time, money, energy—it’s all mine. I barely have enough of it to get myself through a day. I like my personal space. I like to get to be me every day and not worry if I say the wrong thing or give off the wrong impression because it doesn’t fucking matter.”
“Wow.” I blow out a breath. “That’s … a lot. It’s fair, I guess, if you want to be that selfish.”
“It’s not selfish, though. That’s the thing. It would be selfish if I was in a relationship and just taking off to hike when I felt like it, or worked overtime because a project fascinated me, or spent a grand on an old beater that’s completely not worth the money but I like it.” He lifts his shoulders and then lets them fall. “If it’s just me, it’s just a decision. If I’m in a relationship, it’s a potential problem.”