Inappropriate - Vi Keeland Page 0,32

my eyes, but a shiver moved through me, even though there was no breeze.

“Hold it up to your lips.”

“Okay.”

“Pretend you’re sucking through a straw. But don’t inhale. Just take the smoke into your mouth and then blow it out. Don’t pull the air in deep from your diaphragm.”

I did what he instructed—at least I thought I did. But after I inhaled, I inadvertently swallowed some of the smoke and started to cough.

Grant chuckled. “I told you not to inhale.”

I sputtered. “Apparently that’s easier said than done.” I held out the cigar, and he took it back.

We sat together in quiet after that for a while. Grant kept his eye on Pops, who had his head buried in the engine on the other side of the boat while he tinkered. I looked around at the other boats and the marina.

“You must get some beautiful sunsets here.”

“I do.”

“Probably romantic. Do you bring your conquests here to get them in the mood?”

Grant brought his cigar to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the end. I was slightly turned on by the sight, especially knowing my lips had been there earlier. He puffed four or five times, then blew out a thick cloud of white smoke. “If by conquests you mean dates, then the answer is no. I don’t bring them here to get them in the mood.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I just don’t.”

A loud slam brought our attention back to Pops. Grant jumped up, but it had only been his grandfather letting the engine hatch door drop.

Pops brushed his hands together. “Still as sexy as the day she purred to life for the first time. The carburetor could probably use an adjustment though. You’ll get better fuel efficiency with a little tweaking.”

“I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Pops.”

“You two kids ready to go? I need my beauty sleep.”

“Ready whenever you are.” Grant stood and attempted to help his grandfather up the gangplank and over to the dock, though Pops wasn’t having it. He swatted Grant’s hand away and climbed off the boat on his own.

Grant and I exchanged smiles, and I let him help me off the boat. The three of us walked together back to the waiting car.

It was a short ride back to Grant’s grandparents’ house, and Pops climbed out of the car as soon as we stopped. Grant hopped out to follow him.

When he got to the front door of the house, Pops turned back and yelled, “Goodbye, Charlize!”

I poked my head out the car door. “Later, Balls!”

Pops spoke to Grant, although I could still hear him. “Boy, she’s a looker, ain’t she?”

Grant smiled. “That she is, Pops. That she is.”

The two men disappeared inside, and a few minutes later, a woman I assumed was Grant’s grandmother opened the door again. She hugged Grant, and he waited until the door was closed, then double-checked to make sure it was locked before coming back to the car.

He climbed inside and shut the door. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh no. Don’t be. Your grandfather is a pistol. That was fun, and your boat is beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you get to use it often?”

Grant hesitated before answering. “Every day. I live on it.”

“Really? That’s very cool.” I raised an eyebrow. “But you said you don’t bring dates on the boat.”

“I don’t. I also have an apartment downtown in Marina Del Rey. Some people use a house as their primary residence and a boat for fun. I do the opposite.”

Hmm… Interesting.

We talked the rest of the short drive to my place. Our conversation was casual, but it was impossible to feel completely relaxed near Grant. He just took up too much space—both literally on the seat next to me and metaphorically inside my head. The driver slowed as we turned down my street.

I pointed to the tall apartment building, suddenly glad I lived in a nice neighborhood. “This is me.”

The limousine pulled to the curb, and the casual and relaxed mood abruptly came to a halt. It felt like the end of a date with an awkward goodbye, rather than saying goodnight to the CEO of the company I worked for.

I put my hand on the door latch and spoke really quickly. “Thank you for the ride home.”

Grant leaned forward to his driver. “Give me a few minutes, Ben. I’m going to walk Ms. Saint James to the door.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said.

Grant reached and put his hand over mine, which was still holding the door handle, and pushed open the car door. He climbed out first