Page 36 of His Build

They eventually remembered food. Graydon called the restaurant he’d worked at in his twenties—a French bistro calledGastronomique—which stayed in business mainly because it was located on the highway in the center of Jewel Lakes County. And because of Graydon’s referrals to all his wealthy vacationing clients.

Graydon explained to Lucy he had worked there back when he was toying with the ideas of cooking professionally.

“They don’t deliver, but the manager has a soft spot for me.”

“Obviously,” Lucy had grinned.

They were lying in bed, still wrapped in their towels from the shower, and Lucy ran her finger along his bicep as he held the phone. It was incredibly, deliciously distracting, and caused him to flub the order enough times that Jean-Pierre demanded to know who the lucky girl was.

The food was incredible, even by New York standards, probably because Jean-Pierre was a New York expat who’d left the city for the rolling hills of Jewel Lakes thirty years ago, but who frequently went back into the city for new ideas.

As they sat on the balcony of the Lakeside Motor Inn, Lucy licking her fingers after doing away with her fork for the coq au vin still on the bone, Graydon tried not to stare.

But it was impossible to keep his eyes off of her.

Her red hair was tousled in the falling light, her freckled décolletage peeking from her robe. The way she laughed at his stories of working in the kitchen at this place—the time a woman sent her salad back for being too leafy; the local fisherman who’d brought in a cooler full of fresh trout and instead of bringing it around to the service entrance, hauled the ice box through the front door during the dinner hour. He’d been so embarrassed he’d dropped one end of it, sending a waterfall of ice and whole fish splashing through the dining hall.

After they’d had their fill, they leaned back in their chairs, quiet for a moment as they looked out onto the dark pink remainder of the sunset. The silence was comfortable—so comfortable Graydon felt a softening in his chest as he held Lucy’s hand and rubbed circles in her palms.

Lucy moaned in pleasure as he pressed his thumb hard into the muscle between her thumb and forefinger. “God, that feels good.”

Instantly brought back to their lovemaking, Graydon’s cock gave a little jump.

Down, Boy.

“I have a few talents,” he said.

Lucy laughed. Then she turned to him with her head still resting against her chair. “Gray?” she said. “Can I ask you a personal question?” Then she flushed. “I hate it when people ask me that. It’s always something inappropriate right after.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly ask me that would be inappropriate,” Graydon said, “Given that I just fucked your brains out in there.”

Her mouth dropped open but her eyes betrayed the laughter in the mock shock. “Well, it’s nothing like that.”

He swore her irises sparkled with the brilliance of the stars. He wanted to keep making her laugh, to watch her so disarmed like this. The tight professionalism was gone, replaced with an open, free-wheeling spaciousness. He was into both sides of her. But this was what he wanted right now. All of her, every bit of her, all for himself.

“How come you’re single?” she asked.

He wasn’t expecting that. He laughed, a little nervously. “I mean, I could ask you the same thing—why haven’t you been scooped up by some hotshot New York guy?”

She smiled, but her face was guarded. He got the feeling he was wading into dangerous territory here.

“I asked you first,” she said.

He looked out over the water again, then up into the darkening sky, where the first of the stars were starting to emerge. “I see people. Sort of. But I don’t really do relationships. Or, I haven’t in a long time. Since I was a teenager, really. I guess I’ve never really met anyone I wanted to let in close.”

He glanced back at her, his pulse racing. Right now, if this woman asked him to be in an actual relationship, would he? He honestly didn’t know. Half of him was screaming yes, the other half was frozen in terror. He didn’t do relationships for a reason.

Lucy smiled brightly. “Well, that’s good, because I don’t do them either. Relationships, I mean.”

Something in him sunk like a stone, even though the thought was ludicrous. “That’s great then. Who needs the fireworks?”

“Fireworks?”

“Isn’t that what people talk about when they…” He didn’t want to say the L-word. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover. “… when they get in big fluffy relationships?”

Lucy laughed, throwing her head back. “Fireworks! Yes. I guess that’s what happens in the movies, anyway.”

“So it’s agreed, no getting serious,” he said, even though the words felt strange and jagged in his mouth.

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