Grant's Flame (Shark's Edge #5) - Angel Payne Page 0,6

agitated.”

“Do you want to sit inside instead? Maybe the sun is too much with whatever medication they—”

“No! And I’m not agitated!” As soon as I shouted it, I huffed and hauled in an exaggerated breath.

Okay, so that wasn’t very convincing. But I gave myself a silent back pat for the effort plus a giant dose of self-forgiveness. I was one big exposed nerve right now, justifiably so.

I dropped my face into my hands and rested back into the soft chair cushion. Oh shit, the thing was comfortable. Its high padded back and big cushy arms seemed to swallow me up like a small child. So far, this was my favorite part of Grant’s little adventure. This would make a great cuddling and reading spot for Robert and me.

Oh no.

I repeated it in a shriek while jolting to my feet, making my chair teeter on its back two legs. The heft of the thing made it land back solidly. My mind and heart weren’t so lucky.

“Ohhh, no no no!”

“Rio?”

“Oh, Grant! Oh my God!”

“Rio? Hey.” Slowly, he stood too. For some reason, his height seemed even more imposing when he unfolded with such measured wariness. “Blaze, what’s—”

I grabbed for his hand, knocking over a water glass and drenching his carefully aligned silverware and plate. “We have to go back! Please, right now! We have to turn the boat around and go back!”

He didn’t budge. With maddening silence, he just kept staring cautiously at my hysterics.

In mounting fear and frustration, I tugged on his sleeve. I’d rip the whole thing off his arm if I had to. But I didn’t. Instead, I began pacing back and forth, wringing my hands, taking about four long strides before pivoting and starting over again. The motion didn’t help. If anything, the adrenaline just jacked my agitation and sorrow.

“How could I be so irresponsible?” I muttered to myself. “How?”

“Damn it, Rio. What’s going on?” Grant tried to intercept my pacing, but I turned and headed the other way.

“I’m the absolute worst human on this planet.” I tugged on my hair until my scalp stung, fighting to ground myself before my anxiety spun out of control.

Too late, sister!

The self-recrimination was here now. Front and center in my senses—which scrambled and raced, desperately wondering if I could sneak off and even ignite a few matches without being noticed. That wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? Wasn’t like I wanted to torch the whole boat or anything…

Not. Happening. At least not now. Damn it!

So my panic climbed. “No wonder everyone leaves me,” I sobbed out, turning on my heel at the end of my little circuit. “I mean, no wonder, right?”

“Blaze.” He tried to stop me again. And again, I beelined right around him.

“I can’t believe I would even consider—”

“Enough!”

He thundered the decree against my back. At the same time, he snaked his long arm around my front, securing my body back against his. Sly, sneaky bastard. He approached from behind, making it impossible to dodge him. His hold was ruthless, and his enforcing growl was threaded with raw command.

To my shock, both were exactly what I needed.

I didn’t stop to question why. I only knew that I could take a full breath again. That this captivity was suddenly my safe security. That he’d made my maniacal ranting stop, so I’d give him my surrender—at least for now.

“All right, take a fucking breath and tell me what this is about,” he said against my ear. His nearness scrambled and stuttered my senses in the same wonderful collection of seconds. Again, I heeded his command without thinking. “Good,” he crooned. “Now breathe again. With me this time.”

I felt his powerful chest expand against me as we inhaled and then exhaled together. Once. Twice.

Finally, he turned me to face him. His hands remained on my shoulders. He bent down to align his stare with mine. “Hey there, gorgeous.” That damn grin of his, classic Twombley, slid into its cocky, sexy place across his lips. “What’s up?”

“I—I left him alone.” As soon as I stuttered it, tears clawed up my throat. I gulped to fight them back down, but it was no use. A hot, fat escapee rolled down my cheek. Then another and another. Grant carefully, sweetly, wiped each one away with his thumb. “I’m the worst,” I rasped. “I can’t even care for a stray cat properly. Robert. He—he needs me, Grant. But I left him!”

Immediately, Grant stood up tall again. He held out his hand for me to take. “Come inside with

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