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His eyes are still on me, and every hair on my body stands at attention. My nipples tighten inside my bra, and I’m glad I’m wearing a blazer on top of the thin, olive green cropped tee. It stops at the top of my high-waisted black leggings, and it’s so thin, he’d know immediately how my body still responds to him.

“Grayson Cole, welcome home.” Ralph walks up beside me and puts his hand on my lower back. It makes me jump. He’s never touched me like that. “Andrea, can I help you with those platters?”

“Uh… no.” I turn to the table, which is set for eight and quickly put the food in the center. “I forgot my mug in the kitchen.”

I hurry away from Gray’s searing gaze. I need one more shot of whiskey if I’m going to get through this dinner.

When I return everyone has taken a seat, and I’m left beside Ralph and across from Gray. I won’t be able to eat a thing. Instead, I grab my mug.

Mrs. Banks says a quick prayer of thanks, then the platters start making the rounds. Ralph hands me the cheese plate, and I take a slice.

“You should eat more than that, Andrea,” he says, and I try not to gag at his fatherly tone. I don’t know why he acts so parental all the time, calling me Andrea. That’s his problem.

I might be feeling the whiskey…

A glance, and I see Gray staring pointedly at Ralph from across the table. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he wanted to grab him by the collar.

“So Gray,” Mrs. Banks calls. “Ruby says you opened your uncle’s garage again. I’m so glad. I hope that means you’re planning to stay?”

My eyes are fixed on the roll Ralph put on my plate, but I can feel Gray watching us. “For a little while.” His deep voice sends fireworks fizzing through my stomach.

“I sent Billy James over to ask about a job,” Dotty joins the conversation. “Did you meet him?”

In my peripheral vision I can tell that got his attention. He looks at her, and I sneak a peek at him. His square jaw is clean-shaven, and his profile is as perfect as it ever was, straight nose, high cheekbones.

“You know how to reach Billy?”

“I sure do. He lives right over in Pintoville.”

“Dorothy Magee!” Mrs. Banks’s snaps at her. “I do not approve of that word.”

Dotty looks down at her plate. “Sorry, Mrs. B. We’ve just always called it that.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Gray picks up the conversation. “If you could tell him to come on back. I’d told him I wasn’t sure if I had enough work, but I do.”

She nods, still seeming embarrassed. “I’ll tell him as soon as I see him. I usually drive through… east Oakville on the way home.”

“You should probably take Dagwood with you.” Ralph says, nodding to Dotty’s husband Steve, a.k.a.,“Dagwood.” He got the nickname from the school lunches he used to bring. “Have you heard about my almond tree idea, Gray?”

Ralph dominates the conversation explaining to Gray about the amount of rain we get in the Carolinas, and how we shouldn’t allow the California growers to corner the market. Ruby talks to Dotty and Dagwood at the other end of the table about her last dating disaster, and Mrs. Banks seems fascinated by growing zones and nut trees.

I push the food around my plate and try to do personal therapy, deep breathing, distracting my thoughts. It doesn’t work. Every time I steal a glance at Gray, my eyes go to his lips, and I remember how good they feel touching my skin, tracing kisses down my neck, pulling on my nipples.

The space between my thighs is hot and needy by the time I realize I’ve finished my mug of whiskey, and I haven’t eaten a thing. I grab a roll and stuff it in my mouth.

“Are you feeling okay, Andrea?” Ralph places his hand on my arm, and everyone at the table looks my way. I’m mortified.

“Of course!” I do a little laugh and rise to my feet. “I was just thinking about work tomorrow. I’d better be getting home.”

Taking my plate, I start for the kitchen, bumping into the corner of the bar on my journey. I’d better scarf down some dumplings real quick. The door doesn’t close behind me, and I realize I’m not alone.

“Are you okay?” Gray’s voice is the same quiet tone that warms my entire body.

My throat hurts. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to rush into his arms, but I suck it up until I face him. His eyes are burning, studying me.

“I’m fine,” I manage to smile, even though it’s shaky. “I can’t remember if I told you welcome home the other night.”