Picking up right where we left off...
* Grant *
Prompt: Choose a physical scar and tell the story of how you got it. [side note that I'd forgotten I'd made Grant clean-shaven in part 2 and gave him a short beard in this one.]
“You can tell, huh?” Sitting with my back to the artwork, let me keep an eye on him and the door both. Sometimes I needed to run.
“Reasonable deduction.”
“How so?” I lifted my cup and inhaled the steam and the wonderful aroma of good coffee. The guys tended to buy cheap, which is why I stayed far away from the clubhouse’s kitchen. My place was small, but it was mine.
“Your aura, and I know the Kings. I’ve done business with Riggs and a couple of your brothers. I run the local realty office.”
I leaned back in my chair. “You’re the guy he told me about. I found a place, so...”
Grant waved me off. “It’s fine, but do you like it? Because I can—”
“It’s good. Don’t hurt yourself trying to convince me otherwise.” I smiled to take the sting out of my words.
He laughed. “Right. Sorry. Force of habit…?” Grant shrugged, then turned his attention to dismantling his scone. Long fingers, manicured nails, and smooth skin drew my gaze as he broke the pastry into a couple of pieces and popped one into his mouth. His tongue darted out to catch a crumb before his lips tilted up slightly. There was a little space on his jaw where his short beard didn’t grow. Two scars…
“See something you like?”
His whisper barely reached my ears, and it took me a sec or so to process. My eyes shot open. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s flattering. Been a while since someone’s looked at me like that.”
“You’re lying.” Grant was beautiful. Mature. Put together. Not like me at all. He might have a few little scars on his face, but I had scars deep in my soul.
“Maybe.” He wobbled his head. “Or maybe I didn’t notice. I’m noticing you, though.”
Oh God. Flirting. Fuck. It’d been ages since I had to do the small talk, the suggestive innuendo. Most guys just came up to me asking for a good time. If I were able and willing, it would be an easy yes. I had moments of head-shaking, though. Headaches, irrational anger, anxiety, and the occasional flashback all contributed to my lack of relationships. Except for my brothers, nobody lasted more than a night. Ew… No, not like that. Get that thought right out of your head.
“You don’t believe me?” Grant rested an elbow on the table and knuckled his chin, staring hard.
Oops. I hadn’t realized I’d been shaking my head. “Sorry.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Say what a lot?” I narrowed my eyes. Was he upset? Did I do something wrong?
“Sorry. You apologize when it’s not necessary.” His arm slowly extended over the table, and he dragged his fingertips over the back of my hand.
I opened my mouth to say sorry again, but caught myself and slammed my lips together. There was a want or something itching me to pull my hand away, but I forced myself to remain still. Feeling brave, I flipped my hand over, caught his fingers, and met his gaze. “I almost apologized. Fuck, it’ll be hard to stop, but I’ll try. For you.”
“Do it for you, not me.” Grant left his hand curled with mine, using the other to take another bite.
I broke off a piece of my bear claw and chewed thoughtfully. “Okay. I’m… uh… noticing you, too.” Fuck, I could feel my cheeks warming. “How did you get that scar on your chin?”
Grant laughed lightly. “Bicycle. When I was ten, I wanted to be the next great Evel Knievel. Of course, I also thought his name was E-V-I-L, and he was the most villainous villain that ever lived. I rode that superhero card all the way to the hospital and got ten stitches for my dashed dreams.”
Sporting a smile for him, remembering my youthful imaginings, I figured he learned his lesson early on. Maybe if I had, I never woulda enlisted. “Only ten?” I teased, liking the way his eyes brightened and the way they kept me from getting sucked into one of my nightmares.
“You’re different from your brothers.”
“Younger? Prettier?” I fished.
“Yes, but also less… jaded.”
I leaned back in my chair, losing his grip as I snagged my cup and hid ineffectively behind it. I’d like the ‘yes’ but the rest, not so much. “Interesting word choice. I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
He shrugged. “You just seem a little more open than the others I’ve met. Maybe it’s your desire to heal over hurt.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong there. Some of my brothers had no problem causing hurt. I’d seen it, helped even, but Riggs knew I wouldn’t ever pull the trigger of the gun I had hidden under my cut unless my life or one of theirs was in trouble. That protection extended to their partners, and maybe now Grant. I liked him more than I probably should for someone I’d just met. Maybe it was because he knew about the club, met the guys, and wasn’t intimidated by any of it. Maybe it was because he was gorgeous, funny, insightful, caring, and those eyes of his were gonna be my kryptonite.
“Can we do this again?” I blurted.
He choked on his coffee. Quickly, he covered his mouth, swallowed, and then wiped away the few errant tears of his struggle. Seriously though, it was me who was embarrassed. Mortification, thy name is Drake.
I rounded the table and patted his upper back. “Sorry.”
The glare I got made my dick twitch. Oh, hello. Stern Daddy vibes for the win. I slunk back to my seat and shoved a big piece of bear claw into my mouth, hoping it would keep me from saying something else stupid. Grant pulled himself together, dabbed at his eyes and mouth, took a sip of his coffee, and then checked the time on his watch, one of those smart kinds that linked to his phone. Finally, he met my gaze.
“So… another time?” I hedged, biting my thumbnail, my heart pounding. Not the panic attack horrible kind, thank fuck, but in a good way. A hopeful way.
“Yes,” he whispered, “and get your fingers out of your mouth.” I yanked my hand away, my spine going ramrod straight, and he laughed. “You’re all kinds of adorable, do you know that?”
“Me?” I shook my head. “I’m a mess.”
Grant scoffed. “We’ll see.”
