Page 47 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter forty-seven

I ’m still curled in Grayson’s lap when I hear footsteps in the hall. They are slow, measured and moving this way.

He stiffens beneath me but doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go.

The door creaks open.

I shift just enough to see Brooks in the doorway. He leans against the frame, coffee in one hand, the other still damp from the shower.

His eyes skip Grayson. They land on me. And soften.

“Didn’t think you’d be up before noon,” he says quietly. Like we’re already somewhere in the middle of this, not still circling the edge.

Grayson’s thumb drifts across the top of my thigh.

“I didn’t mean to crash here,” I mumble. Not quite pulling away, but suddenly very aware of how this must look. I’m talking to the man I was supposed to be on a date with, while sitting on the one who blocked it.

Brooks doesn’t flinch .

“You didn’t crash. He carried you. Princess style.”

The silence between us is comfortable in a way I didn’t expect, and somehow I’m not squirming with self-consciousness.

Grayson finally speaks. “She’s safe. That’s what matters.”

Brooks nods once, glancing at the space between us. “You hungry, Bambi?”

It’s how he says it. Teasing, easy, but somehow deferential. It disarms me.

It reminds me that while this started out like the opening scene of a horror flick, the script’s changed. I’m the final girl in this version, whatever it turns out to be.

“Starving,” I admit. The honesty slips out easier than I expect.

“Come on, then,” Brooks says. “Grayson’s garbage at breakfast unless there’s a combat-trained private chef involved.”

I glance up. Grayson smirks, unapologetic. “He’s not wrong. And yes, the chef is him.”

I slide off his lap. My feet hit the floor, cold and grounding. Brooks holds out a hand.

I take it. He doesn’t let go right away.

Grayson watches us. Quiet. Assessing. But not tense.

There’s a current between them. Something understood but unspoken.

For the first time, I realize they don’t fully know what this is either.

But they’ve agreed to it.

Whatever this becomes.