Page 38 of Mr. Green (Mr. #2)
Lana
G rant’s mansion—is nice, really nice. I’d say house, but house is too conservative a word.
He has blues, greens, and grays throughout, which is better than beige.
His couch is blue. The kitchen has a lot of gray going on, but it’s a chef’s dream.
Marble countertops with a huge range above a gas stove.
All the appliances are stainless steel and there’s the biggest island I’ve ever seen in the center separating the kitchen and living room.
We’ve made it to the couch and are eating the food Grant brought home two hours ago.
I wonder if this is his life all the time.
He gets home late from work, eats something he picked up, and then goes to bed?
I can’t imagine why he doesn’t like cooking.
His kitchen is stocked with everything imaginable—other than food.
Don’t rich people have a chef or someone who cooks for them?
“Do you always get takeout?” I ask when he’s bringing a beer and water over.
“Yeah. I never know when I’ll get home. I don’t mind picking up something from somewhere. I do miss having a homecooked meal every once in a while with the smell of whatever is cooking filling the house.”
Challenge accepted.
I’ll find a way to make that happen for him.
He said we’d be busy, so I don’t know if I’ll have time to cook for him here.
I bet if I did, my secret ingredient will come to life in this kitchen.
I don’t want to admit cooking for Grant would make me show love in my food again, but I have a pretty good idea it’d work.
I cook all the time. I don’t mind at all.
What’s annoying is my food tastes bland as fuck, but no one else notices.
Paige and Scarlett are the only people really eating my cooking.
They both don’t pay attention to food, though.
Scarlett just wants something filling her stomach—tofu and mac and cheese most likely.
Paige eats out all the time. She seems to appreciate my cooking, but she doesn’t care where her food comes from as long as she gets to eat. They’re a terrible judge of taste.
“Thanks for bringing this back. It’s really good.” I motion to my food.
“I’m glad you like it. That’s the most popular one.”
“So what are these busy plans for tomorrow?”
“Spending time with me, of course.” He gives me his award-winning smile.
“Grant.” I stare at him and tilt my head. “Come on, what are we doing?”
“Spending time with me in Texas. I’m very fond of seeing you here. I like it.” A hint of desire is oozing out of his eyes.
“Oh-kay. Queenie and I go running early in the morning. Is there an alarm system I should be worried about?”
“I’ll go with you. I don’t like you going running on your own when it’s still dark, Lana. That’s dangerous.”
I have two options running through my head. I can’t tell if I want to jump on him for caring about me or option two—smother him with a pillow, since he obviously has too much oxygen running through his brain. He must see how confused I look.
“I’m just saying, I wish you were more careful. This isn’t your little town.” He motions towards the door with a fork.
“It’s a gated community with fountains everywhere,” I deadpan.
He pulls at his neck. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I just want you to think about being safe.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve been on my own now for years. I know how to take care of myself. Obviously. ”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just care a lot about you and want you to make it home in one piece.”
“I’m sure running with a dog in your neighborhood will be fine.”
“I’m coming with you anyways,” he mumbles. “Do you have pepper spray?”
I look at him confused. “No...”
He pulls out his phone and then announces, “Some will be here in the morning along with a Taser. If I’m not with you, you need to bring those with you at all times.”
“Are you my dad?” I squint my eyes at him. “What are you doing right now?”
“You can call me daddy if you want,” he tells me in a low voice while avoiding eye contact.
“Grant!”
“I’m kidding, kidding.” He pauses. “Sort of.” Then fucking shrugs.
I’m going with option two , I tell myself and grab a pillow. “Hold still. I’m smothering you until you come to your senses.”
I have my pillow in hand and go for his face, but he must know karate or something. Before I know anything has happened, I’m facing the wrong way in his arms. Maybe the pepper spray and Taser are a good idea.
“I can’t believe you’re trying to smother your host,” his voice is low in my ear.
“Well, if he deserves it.”
“You’re adorable.” He kisses the top of my head like I’m four.
“Get out of here.” I struggle, but there’s no urgency.
“You’re like one of those little dogs that has all bark but no bite.”
I gasp. “How dare you. That’s what I tell Josh all the time.”
He laughs. “Must run in the family.”
“Get your hands off me.” I struggle for real now. Calling me what I call Josh is not cool.
“You like my hands, especially when they touch these.” He grabs my tits. I stop struggling. It’s the reason I came after all. At least, the reason I’m telling myself I came.
He moves one of his hands, skimming every part of me he touches and puts it on my sex, underneath my panties.
“Let’s be friends again, baby.” His hot breath gives me goosebumps. “The nice thing about you wearing sweats is the easy access I have all the time.”
I smirk. “Mr. Cocky, was it?”
“Since I do have a pretty spectacular cock, the name sure fits.”
I should have a rebuttal, but then he starts circling my clit and I’m done for. Grant makes it easy to like him and, dare I say, fall in love with him. I hope my heart knows to tread lightly.