Rewriting grey, p.2
Rewriting Grey, page 2
She’s not wrong. Silence would be worse. In fact, it would be stifling, considering the nervous energy I feel being stuffed in the car with these two. It’s not so much her as it is him. He’s quiet, eerily quiet. They don’t seem like a match, but I guess what they say is true: opposites attract, and God knows, I’m the last person to hand out relationship advice to anyone. I stay silent as I look forward and observe their body language. A couple’s body language can reveal a lot about how in sync they are.
Earlier, he placed himself between me and her in a protective stance that implied he cares for her, but right now, they both have their arms resting on the center console between them, and neither is making a move to hold the other’s hand, which would suggest affection. While I may be the cause of their current tension, a simple gesture like grabbing her hand would be a nonverbal signal that would show a closeness and synchronicity that would go a long way in saying, “I hear you, we’re good.” Still, he doesn’t, and neither does she, leaving me to wonder if I put too much stake in simple nonverbal acts of affection.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when Lou says, “Besides, if anything, we did her a favor. No one should spend the holiday alone, let alone on the side of the road.”
Damn it. I close my eyes and push my head into the plush leather headrest, hating that yet another holiday was about to go by unnoticed by me. Holidays are just another day of the week when you don’t have anyone to spend them with. The hurt that threatens to attack my senses has me opening my eyes to refocus my attention on something else, anything but the memories and the loneliness, but when I do, the regret I feel is worse.
I know nothing about the man sitting in the seat in front of me, but the way his amber eyes are fixed on me through the rearview mirror feels like more. Sure, he’s assessing me. I’m a mystery to him as much as he is to me. However, I’ve written enough papers on the human mind and behavior to understand that some of the most meaningful relationships can grow from the briefest of connections. The forced proximity of this car is a prime example. The issue is it’s not just the physical attraction pulling me into him now. It’s the familiarity in his eyes. He has pain, too. That, or he’s an empath. One is not better than the other, for they’re both a type of emotional prison from which there is no escape. The emotion behind his gaze is the kind you get lost in and pray that you’re never found, but I’ve let myself get lost one too many times. I’ve learned my lesson. Now, it’s time to find myself. It’s why I chose to come to Copper Falls in the first place—to find pieces of me I didn’t know existed—but I know they’re not lost inside that amber abyss. All that’s to be found there is good trouble.
Chapter 2
Quinn
I’m instantly out of place when we walk through the door of the log home nestled at the top of a hill overlooking the lake. Copper Falls is a small town, but this party feels anything but backroads. It’s ritzy and over the top. Every detail of this party was planned not by any one person but by a party planning agency. You can tell furniture pieces were brought to accommodate the crowd, and if the murmurs I overheard walking in have any merit, I know why. This isn’t just a Fourth of July party. It’s an engagement party.
As we walk through the front doors, Lou intertwines her fingers with Ives’s and pulls him along before throwing him a playful look over her shoulder. Standing in the foyer of what has to be the most high-end cabin I’ve ever seen, let alone stepped foot in, I get a better look at Ives, and he does not disappoint. He’s tall, muscular, and built like a God, but his face–his face is what keeps a painter’s brush forever inspired, wholly entranced to perfect every stroke, capturing the gold-and-green flecks in his amber eyes and sculpting the shadows of stubble that pepper his chiseled jaw. I haven’t ever had a girl crush until now. I want to be Eloise just to know what it feels like to be wanted by him.
My borderline obsessive ogling is interrupted when two equally beautiful women rush to meet us in the foyer. One of them, I think her name is Tara, glances over Lou’s shoulder and spots me, only serving to remind Lou and Ives that they haven’t entered the house alone.
Ives introduces me to Tara, while the other girl beside her elbows Lou and whispers, “I think it’s going to happen tonight. How could it not?” Before I can be any more of a stain on their special night, I excuse myself and search for a bathroom where I hide for a good ten minutes before inconspicuously making my way out onto the back deck and away from all the people inside. The last thing I need to watch unfold is some ill-fated shit where I meet the man of my dreams, only to seconds later be introduced to his beautiful wife.
The back door sliding open catches my attention, and I peer over my shoulder from where I’ve posted up along the banister. Fortunately, the partygoer isn’t anyone I know. Returning my focus to the lake and the people down by the water’s edge with a bonfire going, I marvel at my surroundings. It’s dark, and I can’t see that well, but this place is the stuff travel magazines are made of. Lush black spruce-lined woods, stony cliffs, and alvars sprinkled in make for one majestic scene. The beauty of the land up here is grounding. It’s untouched, pristine, and speaks to the soul. I could get used to this scenery. It beats cornfields any day. Too bad it’s temporary. It’s that thought that has me reaching into my coat pocket in search of my phone. I need a ride out of here.
I’ve just swiped open my screen when my unexpected porch guest sidles up beside me. “Did you come out here to escape the noise?”
I peer over at him as he rests his forearms on the rail beside me. He has the blondest hair I’ve ever seen on a man, styled into a low fade with a flipped-up fringe in the front. From the looks of it, he’s somewhere around my age, twenty-four to thirty range, though I’d bet good money it’s the former. I’m only catching a glimpse of his side profile, but I can tell by his body language he’s easily likable. If for no other reason than he’s the first person I’ve seen wearing jeans, which instantly makes my underdressed ass feel less out of place.
“Sort of. I don’t know anyone inside, and I was hoping to sneak out here and call an Uber?”
“Well, it looks like I stepped out that door at just the right time. I was getting ready to head out as well.”
“Oh.” I take a step back and fidget with the strap of my messenger bag. I’ve taken quite enough rides from strangers for one night. “That’s okay. We don’t even know that we’re heading in the same direction. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”
When he turns toward me, and I get a good look at his pretty face and those big brown doe eyes, I’m certain he’s not the murderous type, but still, I don’t know him from Adam. I only accepted the ride here because Eloise was in the car. Another woman present put my anxiety at ease.
“I promise you wouldn’t be putting me out. Plus, if you were to call that Uber, I’d be your driver.” He extends his hand toward me and adds, “I’m Dash, and I happen to be the only Uber in Copper Falls.”
I quirk a brow and slowly extend my hand to shake his. “Do you really expect me to believe you’re the only Uber driver in town?”
He flashes me a shit-eating grin and rubs his chin. “You’re mincing my words. I own the local ‘Call-a-ride’ company, so if you were to call for a ride, I’d be the person to show up since I’m in the area and at the same party.” My eyes narrow, and I know he sees I’m still not one hundred percent convinced. Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he holds it up and says, “I can prove it.” Coming to my side, he pulls up an app and shows me his driver profile, “See, Dash Weston.”
Sure enough, there’s a picture of him and a driver profile. Two hundred trips, a four-point-nine-star rating, and two years of service.
Crossing my arms, relief floods my body. I’m ready to get out of here, and since Dash is actually a driver, he can take me to my destination, and I can figure out my car troubles tomorrow. “Okay, can we leave now?”
Closing the app, he shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, I’m just going to run in and use the restroom really quick and we can head out.”
“That works for me. Can you meet back here and we can walk around to the front? I’d rather not go back through the house.”
His brow furrows for the briefest of seconds before he accedes. “Sure, I’ll be back in a minute.”
I watch him head back in before pulling up my phone and opening my maps app. I don’t want to waste any time fumbling around for the address. Plus, my phone is about to die. The constant search for a signal has drained my battery. Seven Blackthorne Estate. Perfect! My delight doesn’t even have a chance to take root because the back door opens again, but it’s not Dash rejoining. It’s Ives. I know I should look away and try to play it cool like his presence doesn’t affect me, but I can’t, especially when those enigmatic eyes connect with mine. They instantly draw you in and demand your attention.
Before I know it, he’s standing at my front, clearing his throat and snapping me out of my haze. “I’ve been looking for you.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise, but at least my mouth stays shut. I’ll count that as a win. I was sure it was hanging open as I watched him approach me.
“After using the restroom, I felt it was best to hide out here. I didn’t want to impose on your party.” Or watch you propose to another woman. My jealousy makes me cringe. I don’t even know this guy, nor do I plan on staying in Copper Falls. I should give zero shits about what happens here tonight. I’ve already told myself he’s a bad idea, trouble I don’t need, so why does every fiber of my being want to fight me on it?
His eyes narrow briefly, and he hands me a red, white, and blue foo-foo drink. “First of all, you’re not imposing. For that to be true, you’d have to be unwelcome, and I can assure you that’s not the case.”
I take the offered drink and stare at the concoction that I have no plans of drinking before I subtly pry. The sting of reality may help me get my thoughts off the idea of a him and I that will never exist. “This is pretty fancy for a Fourth of July party,” I say, nodding toward the party.
His lips quirk up to one side with a hint of amusement. “It is, but the fourth also happens to be Eloise’s birthday.”
“Oh.” I nod as if his answer explains all the grandeur of tonight’s party.
Those mysterious eyes study me, easily making me feel exposed. It’s as though he can read every thought flicking through my mind, and for the briefest of moments, I believe he can because he says, “Eloise can be”—he looks back toward the crowded room inside—“over the top.”
I want to say, “Yeah, you think.” I mean, who hires a professional party-planning service for their birthday. Any birthday over the age of twenty-one is no longer worth celebrating. You can drive, you can vote, and you can legally drink and smoke pot. Regardless, I bite back my snarky comment and attempt to be the bigger person instead of catty.
“Maybe just a little,” I say, using my thumb and index finger as a unit of measure before turning away with a small smile and looking out over the lake. “This is a nice place you have here.”
“Thanks. I wish I could say it was mine,” he says as he leans on the banister beside me.
Neither of us speaks as we take in the view, but the moment is anything but silent. The buzz of energy radiating between us is ringing loudly in my head as the tiny hairs on my arm stand on end in awareness that his arm is mere inches away from mine. Damn, I really need to get laid. I’ve neglected that area of my life for far too long, and it’s starting to show. Half the reason I’m so entranced by this man most likely stems from the fact that he’s a man. I haven’t had a man warm my bed in months, nor have I handled business and pleasured myself. But in my defense, finishing up my last semester of school and getting my degree in Physical Therapy took up more than a fair amount of my time.
“I’m sorry,” he says, pulling me from my thoughts.
“For what?”
He gestures with his hand toward my glass. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want a drink. Perhaps water would have been a better offering.”
That was not what I’d expected him to say, though I can’t say I had expectations. I angle myself toward him just enough that I can see his side profile and gauge his reaction to my words. I know if I see too much of his beautiful face, it will only distract me from my thoughts.
“Oh, I drink. A drink actually sounds really great right now.” It’s not a lie. A drink would definitely help take the edge off the past few hours.
Straightening, he fully turns toward me, dwarfing me with his height. The man must be at least six-foot-four. I’m a shorty, so he easily has a foot on me. “Can I grab you something else?”
“No, no. That’s not necessary. I wouldn’t drink anything you brought me.” When he just stares at me, those curious eyes dissecting my every move, I answer the burning question I’m sure he wants answered before he asks it. “You know, ‘stranger danger’ and all that.” I wave my hand, dismissing my comment as though it were perfectly normal and not unusual. I’m a single twenty-five-year-old woman. Accepting a drink from a total stranger is asking for problems. While every bone in my body tells me I’d more than let this man have his way with me, I’d still rather be present to experience it, and you can never be too safe. That’s what my mother always said anyway, “Better safe than sorry.”
“Ah, I see. Smart girl.” He nods back toward the house. “You’re more than welcome to watch me make one.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s hitting on me, but that can’t be right. He and Eloise are clearly in a relationship, which now has me regretting my desire to climb him like a tree. I hate an unfaithful man, and I don’t care to be the temptress. No wonder his eyes feel mysterious. He’s not some lost soul. He’s guarded, protecting his scandalous ways, sizing me up to see if I’m a willing participant.
“That’s okay. I’m actually getting ready to head out.”
Our eyes are locked and he opens his mouth, but no words come out because Dash appears at that moment, stealing them. “Quinn, you ready to roll?”
Folding his arms across his chest, Ives’s expression is pinched, and when I move to pop out of his shadow and respond, he moves with me. “You won’t accept a drink from a stranger, but you’ll accept a ride?”
“Technically, I know more about him than I do you.”
“How so?”
“For starters, I know his full name.”
His head tilts to the side as he licks his bottom lip. “I didn’t realize I never gave you my name. My name is Iverson Grey. I’m originally from Nantucket, and my best friend is my golden retriever Zeus.”
I’m unsure why he’s sharing these details with me, but the part about his dog makes me smile, and he notices. His eyes sparkle, and his lips pull up to the side just enough to tell me he knows he’s put me at ease, but more than that, he likes that he made me smile. I understand him sharing his name; it’s an introduction we didn’t get, but the rest feels like a flirt, and because I know he has a gorgeous girlfriend waiting inside, and I have a ride out of here, I ignore the rest and stick to business.
“While having your full name does bump you up from stranger to acquaintance, I did check Dash’s credentials before I accepted the ride. Plus, I don’t get the serial killer vibe from him, so I think I’ll make it to my destination in one piece.”
When I attempt to step around him, he moves into my space again. “I can drive you.”
“That might be true, but your date”—I pause for effect—“might come looking for you, and as I said before, I really don’t want to impose. Clearly, tonight is special.”
His eyes give nothing away, but the slight tick in his jaw tells me he’s not happy with my assessment, and if I got it wrong, and tonight isn’t what it seems, I wouldn’t know because the next time I make my move to leave, he doesn’t stop me.
As I head toward Dash, where he awaits by the steps that lead off the deck, Iverson calls out, “Weston.” We both turn to look at him, and he says, “Her Jeep has broken down on the bend right before you get to Cypress. Make sure she has what she needs for the night.”
Dash gives him a nod before looking back at me. “Let’s go, Harley.”
Dash is sliding my suitcase into the back of his truck when I ask, “Why did you call me Harley back there?”
Closing the tailgate, he turns and looks me up and down. “Seriously.”
I furrow my brow, confused at what I’m missing. I’m usually quick to pick up on undertones and indirect meanings, but I currently need help. “Yeah, seriously.”
“You’re wearing a long black trench coat, platform black Dr. Martens boots, and your hair is in two braids, for starters. If your outfit isn’t enough of a comparison to the iconic American comic book character Harley Quinn, your personality coupled with the events of this night are.” He slaps his hand on the back of the truck and starts toward the cab.
“Excuse me, you don’t get to leave on that note,” I say as I approach the passenger door. Once we’re both in the truck’s cab, I ask, “What’s wrong with my personality?”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with your personality. You have sweet and innocent plastered across your face, but it’s clear you’re trouble.”
“If you think I’m trouble, why offer me the ride?”
Turning the key in the ignition, he says, “I got a thing for the Harleys.” When I don’t say anything more, he asks, “So where am I taking you?”
“Seven Blackthorne Estate.” I give him the address I’ve repeated in my head for the last thirty minutes like it’s some kind of chant. Every chant felt like it brought me closer to actually being there. I’ve longed to be there more than anywhere in the world for the past week.
“See? Trouble.”
Great. Why does that feel like a bad omen?
