Chapter Thirty-Eight

Carrie

“Apparently you are a bigger asshole than Reid,” I say, reacting to Grayson’s crude question, which he hasn’t even bothered to direct at me, considering it’s about me. “He believes in me because—”

“She bested me right out of the gate,” Reid finishes for me. “She beat me when no one beats me.”

Grayson sits back and looks at me. “Now I’m intrigued. How did you best him?”

“Without blinking,” I say, not about to tell the story. “I beat him and walked away without blinking. He came to me afterward and you’re still an asshole.”

“How did you best him?” he presses.

Reid answers. “She bought me at a charity bachelor auction and then cuffed me to a couch in the hotel room and left me there. And, for the record, wholly unsatisfied.”

I’m stunned that Reid has told this story that most would feel make him look bad. Grayson narrows his eyes at me and I pick up my wine, taking a long swallow before saying, “It’s good. Really good. Dry and woodsy.”

“You did that?” he asks, ignoring my wine commentary.

“Yes. I did do that.”

“What did you think you would gain?” he asks.

“I wanted to remind an asshole that he was human.”

He laughs. “Priceless.”

“Exactly,” Reid says, his gaze catching mine. “She is. She’s fearless, but smart.” He looks at Grayson. “And those two traits are hard to find.”

“As is the ability to put aside ego and get over the cuffs,” I say of Reid, but my focus is on Grayson. “I can’t believe he just told you that story.”

“The food is here!” Leslie announces, her timing less than perfect, but she’s unstoppable, as is the interruption. Soon we all have plates in front of us, and I cave to the moment, inhaling the spicy scent of the wonderful food. We all take a bite and various satisfied sounds lift around the table. “How spoiled is Grayson to have you here to cook,” I say, dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “This is the kind of special meal that money can’t buy. It’s love. Family. Home.”

“It is,” Leslie says, glowing with the compliment. “I keep hoping Grayson will marry and build those things for himself, but he’s all business.”

“I wish the same for you, Leslie,” Grayson says, “and perhaps if you’d stop worrying about me, you’d find them.”

She purses her lips. “Another argument for another day.” She waves her hands at us. “Enjoy,” she says, and then walks away.

I lift my fork again and I find Grayson’s attention on me. “What do you know of family and love?” he asks.

“My father and I have our version,” I say easily. “His place is home to me.”

“And yet you’re dating Reid, the man who took his company.”

“He made bad decisions, Grayson. I knew he was making them. I couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Tell me about it,” he says, lifting his fork.

Reid’s phone rings and he grabs it from his jacket and grimaces. “I have to take this.” He doesn’t apologize to Grayson. He simply states a fact and looks at me. “The DA. I’ll be right back.” He stands up and walks away, entering the house, but not before I hear, “The ink’s dry, Mr. District Attorney, but if you’re calling to offer an added cash bonus to the families of the victims, we’ll take it.” And just like that, he’s inside the house, and I’m alone with Grayson, and the impact of that vulnerability isn’t as forceful as I expect. He’s really an easy personality, his intensity more in his cunning than his force.

“He negotiated the settlement for the families of that serial killer that was in the city,” I say. “He donated his fees.”

He arches a brow. “Did he?”

“He did.”

He changes the subject. “What does your father think about what you’re doing with West Enterprises?”

“He knows this is important to me.”

“And will he reinsert himself into the business?” he asks.

“No. He’s moved on and I want it that way.”

“And he’s okay with you taking over his creation?” he presses. “That seems like it would be hard for him.”

“Yes. It will be, but for now, he doesn’t think it’s real. He thinks Reid is scamming me.”

He doesn’t blink. “Does he know you’re seeing Reid personally?”

“No,” I say and this time I don’t blink. “And I’d rather he not, which is an easy achievement since he’s presently chasing a land deal in Montana.”

“Montana?”

“Yes. Montana, and no, I would not be taking your money to Montana.”

Grayson glances at Reid through the window, shares a look with him, and then refocuses on me. “Do you think Reid is scamming you?”

“No,” I say without hesitation.

“Do you want to know what I think?” he asks.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Why does that feel like a trick question?” I ask because it does. And if it’s not a trick, it’s a test that I do not want to fail, and yet, I do want to know his answer. Perhaps too much.