Chapter 2
Grayson was quiet as he drove through the streets of North Charleston, expertly steering the car through stop lights and around corners. Both of us had dressed more or less dressy-casual. I clenched my hands in my lap as I peeked at him out of my peripheralvision.
"I did have a plan," I said for what felt like the tenth time since we got in thecar.
The corner of his mouth closest to me lifted. "Sure you did," he said, the humor clear in histone.
“I did,” I insisted. Sure, it had been a slap-dash, poorly put together plan, but I’d had one. Dinner. Dinner was always good for a date. Maybe a movie? I peeked at him out of the corners of my eyes. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood for a movie, though. "Where are we going?" I asked as he turned onto the interstate and slid across two lanes to the farthest and fastestlane.
"You'll see when we get there," hesaid.
I grumbled but sat back against the seat, staring out over the flashing glow of headlights as the sun set on the horizon in front of us. "You better not be taking me anywhere to kill me and bury my body," I said. "Marv would killyou."
Grayson shifted in the driver's seat and muttered something in response, so low it was hard to catch it, but it sounded something like, "He's not the onlyone."
I cracked my neck and reached for the radio. "Nope." Grayson vetoed the very first station I turnedto.
"What's wrong with it?" Iasked.
"I don't do pop. Pick somethingelse."
I changed itagain.
"No."
"It's coffeehouse music!" I snapped. "It's notbad."
"It's elevator music. Something else." After another turn, he shook his head. "Not classical either. That's just another brand of elevatormusic."
"Well, what do you want to listen to then?" Idemanded.
"You." His answer was so abrupt, my fingers froze on the radio knobs. "Talk to me," he said. "I just want to hear youtalk."
Sitting back against the seat, I bit my lip and sighed. "What do you want me to say?" I asked. "I don't know what to talkabout."
"Why'd you come to me today?" heasked.
"Texas."
Grayson's sharp, ice blue eyes snapped to my face briefly before he flicked his blinker and directed the car into the middle lane as we approached an exit. "Texas?" he repeated sounding almostdisappointed.
I nodded. "Texas is worried about you," I admitted. "He likes you and..." I looked out the window again, not wanting him to see the flush that rose to my cheeks as heat suffused my face. "And I was worried too. You haven't been yourself lately. You never come out of the pool house unless it's to go somewhere with one of the guys—usually to work with Knix or Marv. You hang out with Texas only when he's working too. All you seem to want to do is work and exercise and sleep. It's nothealthy."
"Are you saying I'm a workaholic?" he asked, amusement in histone.
I shrugged. “I mean, if the shoe fits.” I licked my bottom lip and huffed. “I know something’s bugging you,” I said. “You aren’t normally likethis.”
“What am I normally like?” heasked.
“Anasshole.”
Hescoffed.
“It’s true,” I insisted with an eye roll. “You’re sometimes pompous and overblown. You’re a master atdouchery—”
“Is that even a word?” he interrupted through achuckle.
“If it’s not, then I’m making it a word.” I turned towards him, pressing my back against the car door. “But you haven’t been yourself lately. Your spark is gone. You’re not sarcastic or rude—well, you’re still rude, but it’s not the same. You don’t tease me as much. I…” I missed it. I missed him. I missed our witty banter and his crazy mystery. I felt like I had found out everything there was to know about him, but as soon as that happened, the facade had fallen away, but I wondered if it had been a facade atall.