his face for the twitch of a lie. But it’s his hand that tells me everything. He flexes it again before concealing it in his pocket.
“Tomorrow?” I present it like a challenge.
“I’ll find you,” he promises, as if it’s a threat, before turning and walking down a corridor of squared-off hedges adorned with plastic fruit.
“Are you okay?” Grant asks when I enter the Quiet Room, drop my bag on the couch and begin pacing. “You look a little … angry.”
“I am,” I seethe, focusing on deep breaths to keep from exploding.
Oh, I wish I could punch something … no, I wish I could punch Brendan. His pretentious glower is stuck in my head. It’s all I can see. He thinks he can get away with anything because he sees all. But now I know what he’s hiding. Maybe not all of it, but enough to make me question his every move. Especially why he’s protecting Vic. And sacrificing me and Allie by doing so. On top of everything, Ashton’s in love with him!
“I hate him. I’m going to strangle him. And punch him. And kick him. Maybe even bite him. I’ve never done that before. But I’m sure it hurts.”
“Let me guess … Brendan?” Grant’s face is pinched with unease. “Did you talk to him?”
I grip the back of the couch, squeezing until my fingers leave indentations. “I just left him in the Court. We’re supposed to talk tomorrow.”
Grant’s eyes narrow. “About the five questions?”
“Yes.” I collapse on the other end of the couch, inviting the air-conditioning to cool my heated skin … and temperament.
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about last night. But it sounds like it’s already in motion.” He reaches to take hold of my hand and bends to kiss my palm. And my elevated heartrate skips a beat. “Are you feeling calmer?”
I release the frustrated air from my lungs and nod, then connect with his sky-blue eyes. “That’s what you were talking about last night?”
“Yeah.” Grant reaches for my waist and slides me toward him until I’m between his legs.
He wraps his cool arms around me. I sink into him with my back against his chest, the anger seeping into oblivion.
I tilt my head to the side to look at him. “Don’t you think it’s weird that the day after you hinted about it on the phone, he approaches me in the Court and offers to answer my questions?”
“Maybe,” Grant says slowly, contemplating it. “Depends on how it came about. You already promised to answer the questions. It could be a coincidence. I didn’t mention it specifically last night.”
“But you were kind of obvious. I was just too distracted to pick up on it. Brendan would’ve caught it if he was listening.”
“So we have to be even more careful what we say on the phone?”
My attention’s automatically drawn to the corners of the room, paranoia rearing its compulsive head. “This whole thing is making me lose my mind.” I run my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots in frustration.
Grant leans down, his voice a rumble in my ear. “He’s messing with your head. And after what you found, it’s easy to feel like he’s everywhere.”
He kisses my cheek and then brushes another along the heated skin of my neck and bare shoulder. The feel of his mouth on my body sedates me instantly—better than any of Jasmine’s yoga and meditation classes. My skin tingles, and my breaths draw slowly across my lips.
He traces a finger up my arm, inciting goose bumps. “You can ask any five questions, right?”
I nod, melting against him dreamily.
“I have some ideas.”
I twist in his arms and lean up toward his mouth. “Or … you could just kiss me and make it all go away.”
“It’s not going away. But if it’ll help …” Grant bends to meet my lips, brushing them gently, capturing my breath. I press firmer, needing more. He murmurs softly, “Better?”
My eyes remain closed. I need a second longer to recover. “Mmm.”
“I created a chart,” he announces, scooting out to pick up his bag, popping my bliss bubble.
I flop back against the couch, deflated, wishing for much more than the single kiss.
Grant pulls out a folded piece of art paper and flattens it on the coffee table. One side notes each person with bullets stating what we know about them, listed in chronological order. I flip it over and find a color-coded family tree.
“Wow, you’re taking this sleuthing thing to a whole other level,”