Page 58 of Pretty Poison
On his ride home, the local radio station played a promo for the interview he, Jonah, and Felix recorded with Mad Dog Mulroney. Rocky smiled as he recalled the bantering and bickering that had gone on in the little studio and then again when they met for breakfast the next day. Those thoughts inevitably led to Tess Hamilton, the case Rocky desperately wanted to investigate, and his botched attempt to speak to her son.
Rocky was only a few blocks over from Grant Duncan’s street, so he decided to drive past the man’s house to see if he was home. If this avenue didn’t pan out, he’d switch tactics and call the attorneys involved in the case. Without Tess’s consent, her lawyer would only discuss the public aspects of the trial and his approach to her defense. It would still give his investigation some insight and might help steer Rocky toward people he hadn’t thought to interview.
He slowed down when Grant’s house came into view, then parked at the curb when he saw a silver SUV in the driveway. Rocky got out of his car and waited for Snickerdoodle to attack, but all was quiet on that end. Nothing about theScooby-Doohouse looked different. The building materials, tools, and equipment were still in the same place, and the structure was in the same state of disrepair. The gate was still squeaky and obnoxious, but Rocky straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, striding toward the spooky place like he had a right to be there. He wasn’t afraid of ghouls reaching through the rotten boards on the porch to grab his ankles. Nope. Not him.
Rocky jogged up the porch steps and rang the doorbell. When no one immediately answered, he knocked on the door. Rocky heard footsteps approaching from inside the house and plastered a friendly smile on his face.Here we go. This could be your last chance. Be nice. Be courteous. Be—
The door swung open, and Rocky lost his train of thought. Holy fuck. Grant Duncan was naked except for the white towel wrapped around his waist. Pictures of the man accompanied almost every article about his mother, and even though the camera clearly loved him, those images didn’t do him justice.
The dark-haired man was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the kind of thick thighs that could pin a guy down in bed. Had this been one of those noir PI films or classic novels, Rocky, the main character, would entertain the invisible audience with a witty, unforgettable inner monologue extolling all the ways this man represented trouble. Instead, the guy’s physical appearance was so similar to his husband that it robbed him of the ability to speak.
Grant’s eyes were a nice, warm brown, where Asher’s were so dark they looked black. This man sported a nice tan, but Rocky wouldn’t call him a swarthy pirate as he’d often said about his husband. Grant had excellent bone structure, but Asher’s face looked like it had been chiseled from granite, which only made his full lips look even softer in contrast to his square jaw. Grant didn’t have a superhero jaw and chin dimple like Asher. This guy wore what some people called designer scruff—enough to make him look edgy without going full-on caveman. Asher’s position required him to stay clean-shaven, but he abandoned his razor during his time off. Just thinking about it made Rocky long to feel the coarse hair scraping against his sensitive skin.
Rocky wasn’t the only one taken aback. Grant stared at his face long enough to coax a blush out of him, which was a rare reaction. Rocky was used to his blond-haired, blue-eyed looks attracting the attention of men and women alike, but this man’s open-mouthed gape was a little over the top.
“Grant Duncan?” Rocky asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“Yeah, but I’m not interested in buying cookies.”
Rocky watched a droplet of water glide over Grant’s broad chest and washboard abs before disappearing into the terry cloth. “I can tell you don’t eat them.”
Grant chuckled. “Everyone eats cookies.” Rocky forced his eyes back up to meet Grant’s amused gaze. “I’m a vegetarian, so I’m not interested in buying steaks or seafood either.”
“Do you have anything against vacuums?” Rocky teased. Flirting and disarming people with his charm was his superpower.
The corner of Grant’s mouth tipped up into a smile. He studied Rocky’s face before his gaze drifted down Rocky’s body. “I will be in the market for one once these renovations are completed, but I’m running late for a date and don’t have time for a demonstration.”
“So, you don’t have time for me to save your soul either,” Rocky quipped.
Grant laughed, the sound husky and contagious. “I should’ve left already. Maybe you can leave your card in case this date is a bust and I have time for a demonstration later.”
Rocky had no doubt about the kind of demonstration he was referring to. He retrieved a business card and handed it to Grant, whose entire demeanor changed when he read Rocky’s name.
“Fuck off,” Grant snarled and stepped back.
“Wait,” Rocky yelled before Grant could slam the door in his face. “I only want five minutes of your time.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Come on. How could you possibly know that?” Rocky asked.
“You’re the guy who’s calling my mom’s former friends and coworkers.”
Former friends and coworkers? Did he mean to imply they were no longer her friends, or was it an innocent slip under stress? It only made Rocky hungrier for the truth.
He nodded. “I am.”
“You can’t possibly think I’ll participate in a smear campaign against my own mother.”
Rocky had met many people who’d do much worse than that. “Of course not,” he said, hoping not to alienate the man further. “I’m not here for nefarious reasons.”
“She’s seventy-four years old,” Grant continued as if he didn’t hear Rocky or just didn’t care. “She’s lost so much already, including her anonymity. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I’m not trying to smear Tess’s name,” Rocky said again, this time in a louder voice. “I’m trying to tell her story. Just let me give you my elevator pitch.”
Grant narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”
“It’s where someone pitches their idea or makes their case in the amount of time it takes to ride an elevator.”