Page 169 of Breaking Point
thank god you said it first
I can’t either
I’m going to miss you like crazy
Rolling my head this way and that, I link my fingers together and stretch my arms up high, surprised to feel that familiar ache in my lower back. I only ever felt that pinch when I had buried myself in an art project and hadn’t moved. Picking up my phone, my eyes practically bug out of my head as I note the time.
Standing quickly, my eyes rove the area for Bambi.
Maybe I should put a little bell on her so I know where she is at all times. The yard is so large and she can’t hear me call her if I need to bring her back.
But peeking over the railing, I stop short.
Sitting in the garden, with hands knee deep in mud, is Grayson. His brows are furrowed, lips pinched and back glistening with sweat. He’s working shirtless despite the plungingtemperature. Bambi lies beside him, her puppy dog eyes enamored.
He’s gardening.
Something in my heart flips that he held up his end of the bargain, that he stuck to his promise. I’m not sure why he stopped, especially when I find that there’s not a hint of tension lining his body.
Like me with my art, he’s completely focused on the task at hand.
And suddenly, it’s like I’ve broken a dam.
For the first time in nearly a year, inspiration strikes, hard and fast.
I’m reaching for my drawing pad before I even realize what I’m doing. My hand grips the pencil, and in the next breath, it’s flying across the paper.
My head lifts every now and then at the pair that inspired it all.
The sense of peace and serenity that was accompanying my body is halted as a shrill ring startles me. Leaning over, I turn the timer off on my phone that I set for the lasagna I placed in the oven.
It only felt like I set the timer five minutes ago, not forty-five.
Turning in my seat, I freeze at Grayson leaning against the sliding glass door, hair wet from a shower, his gaze set on me.
How long has he been there?
I can’t help but state the obvious. “You’re staring.”
His gravelly, rough reply has a flame igniting in my belly.
“I can’t stop.”
The confession isn’t paired with a blush like I’d expect. Instead, his eyes bore into mine as if he’s soaking up every minuscule detail of the moment.
The kiss on this very deck slams into my mind, fueling thatspark of heat in my belly, and by the slight widening of his eyes, I have no doubt Grayson is remembering the same memory.
I wish someone was around so I’d have an excuse to kiss him.
His brow quirks, a knowing smirk dancing along his lips. “Burning something, Blaze?”
My eyes widen a moment before I’m leaping from my seat and rushing into the kitchen. The lasagna is slightly crisp by the time I quickly place mittens on my hands and pull it out, serving up two plates.
“I hope you’re serving one for yourself,” Grayson drawls behind me.
“Invite or not, I’m too famished to wait until I’m home to eat.” Grabbing a salad from the fridge, I add, “I’ve been drawing since I got here in the morning and haven’t looked up. Unfortunately, my body doesn’t interrupt when I’m drawing to tell me what it needs.”
Grayson’s patting Bambi, his head lowered as he casually throws out, “Maybe I should get you drawing every day if it means you’ll eat dinner with me.”
