Page 52 of Crash and Burn
"We're both mature adults," he said. "And we were friends before any of this started. If things don't work out..."
He exhaled deeply through his nose and pulled me against him. I rested my head against his chest. His heartbeat thrummed under my ear.
"Let's make a promise," he said. "No matter what happens, we'll always be there for each other. We were friends first. Even if this thing between us doesn't work out, we'll always be friends. Okay?"
I nodded against his chest, my heart warming.
"Okay," I promised.
“Besides,” he added. “If we’ve been pining after each other for years, then is anything really different aside from the fact that we now know that about each other? And now have permission to act on it?”
“I did spend quite a lot of time gazing at you longingly when I should have been taking customer’s orders,” I said.
“And I’ve made more than a few mistakes when pouring drinks because you just happened to flash me a smile.”
“Grant Williams, are you saying you’re not the expert bartender we all thought you are?” I said with a faked gasp. “Were you really distracted by little old me?”
“All the time,” he said. “You’d brush your hair over your shoulder and I’d get a whiff of that strawberry shampoo and my brain would just—” He made an explosion sound and spread his hands wide like a bomb was going off. “You drove me crazy, Liz.”
“I’m not the only one at fault,” I told him. “Those tight t-shirts you wear, showing off all your abs and every muscle in your arms. It’s like you were daring me to drool over you in public.”
“I did that for the extra tips, to be honest,” he said ruefully.
“So youdidknow the effect you were having on me!”
“Not you in particular,” he said. “I just know that when I started wearing more closely fitted t-shirts the tips started flowing. Besides, what were you doing with all those short dresses, hm?”
“My dresses aren’t any shorter than average,” I said. “It’s not like I was wearing mini-skirts.”
“Every inch of your exposed legs was enough to make all the blood rush out of my head and go somewhat else, if you get my meaning.” He gave me a significant look. I blushed. “I imagined a hundred times what would happen if I went over to you and kissed the breath out of you right in the middle of the bar.”
“I can’t deny I had a few fantasies about you, too,” I admitted.
“Liz Mitchell, did you have naughty daydreams about me?” It was Grant’s turn to feign shock.
“Define naughty,” I said innocently.
“Was I naked?” he asked with a smirk.
“Perhaps,” I said coyly.
“Were you naked?” He put his hands on my hips.
“I might have been.”
“Did it get you hot, thinking about us together?”
He pulled me tight against him until we were fitted together neatly. Heat began to pool between my legs.
“There may have been a time or two when I got caught up in the daydream, yes.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“Do you remember when Manny first told us he was shutting down the bar?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said. “It was my worst nightmare. I worried I wouldn’t get to see you every day.”
“Me too,” I said. “I imagined I was kissing you, then. It felt so real, I thought it was really happening. But I was also very drunk,” I added. “And I have a vivid imagination.”
