Page 40 of Mr. Green
Queenie is definitely not a guard dog. She let this stranger come right into our place without a glance in his direction. The whole time she sat on the couch with her head on her paws like she was trying to give us privacy. Then the freaking traitor puts her head on his leg and leans into his side so he could pet her better.
“You are the sweetest thing,” he says...to my dog. If I’m not careful, Queenie is going to go home with him. At that moment, she rolls onto her back so he can pet her belly. I’m standing there by the door watching them with my jaw on the floor. This is unbelievable.
She probably knows he’s not a threat. Just like I know Grant isn’t a threat—not really. I think it’s a huge testament to your character when animals automatically trust you. They can sense things before humans. She doesn’t know I’m just trying to protect my heart. If she knew, she wouldn’t be letting this pantydropper waltz in here. I can’t take this anymore.
“Ugh,” I mumble, walking to the bathroom.
I start filling the tub and put so much lavender in there, it could relax a rabid hyena. I don’t know why a guy is insisting on trying to be with me when I’m still a mess. I guess he thinks he can see past the mess I’ve become and knows this isn’t actually me.
Someone else who can see I’m not myself rightnow...hmmm. I wish I knew too. I think it’s a step in the right direction to move forward. Was he a little pushy? Yeah, maybe, but I may not have been willing to let anyone in. Him being the one to break through my walls seems like it could be the right decision. I just need to pull through into the light where I belong.
Chapter 27
Lana
Icome out dressed in sweats, but freshly showered. I’m not going anywhere, so there’s no point in putting on a whole show to stay at my place. Grant can take it or leave it. I didn’t ask him to come over, but I’m really glad he’s here. I like not being alone on a Friday night. I like how he planned something. I like that he doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s fucking sexy.
The differences between us are abundant. Me in sweats with a messy bun and glasses compared to Grant who looks like an important businessman. The jacket he came in with is now over a chair. His shoes are off, and he has his feet up on the table crossed at the ankles. One of his arms is laying across the back of the couch and the other hand is petting Queenie. He doesn’t seem worried about getting dog hair all over him. That’s nice. He also rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing sculpted forearms.
The sight is doing incredible things to my heart. I like seeing him here and comfortable. It’s my dream life for a guy to come home and be happy to see me. I want us to be easy around each other, knowing everything about one another.
Maybe it could be Grant.
Maybe is right. I hope I see a lot more of him.
Grant notices me and pats Queenie as a cue he’s going to move. He stands and gives me a small kiss on the forehead. “You look beautiful.”
My head looks down as my eyes sweep over my outfit. “I’m in sweats and glasses.”
“I know. You look beautiful.”
I give a sly smile and am probably blushing. Ryan always hated when I wore my glasses. He told me I looked better with my contacts in. I come walking out here without even trying and Grant immediately compliments me. That’s something new. It makes my heart thump against my chest. I tuck a strand of non-existent hair behind my ear, not knowing what to do with my hands.
“So, what are we waiting for?” I cross my arms over my chest. It’s a reminder to stay guarded.
Grant looks down at his watch. “Should be here any minute.”
As if on cue, a knock on the door sounds. Grant goes to get it, even though it’s my apartment. He greets someone and then lets them in.
Oh-kay.
A man with a chef hat enters. It’s not any chef, it’s a well-known chef—in Seattle, anyway. He has his own restaurant with a months-long waiting list. I’ve always wanted to go. I’m an idiot!
“This is Robert Ortega,” Grant announces.
“I know,” I manage, then leave my mouth open looking like I’m trying to catch a fly. “What are you doing here? I’m sure you have several other places to be—doing anything else.”
“I heard this was just as important. Grant doesn’t call in a favor unless it’s worthwhile. You guys were supposed to meet me at the restaurant, but I heard you aren’t feeling up to it.”
“Yeah, she had too much cocaine and was too paranoid to leave her place,” Grant lies with an arrogant smirk.
“I did not! I don’t do drugs! If anything,he’sthe one on something,” I almost scream while defending myself.
Robert doesn’t judge. “Here I am. Where can I set up?”
“Set up?” I squish my eyebrows together.
“Yes, he’s giving us a cooking lesson,” Grant interjects. “I was under the impression you like to cook.”