“Why?”
His brows pinched together, easy smile fading. “Don’t like looking at it.”
“Why not get it removed?”
His gaze grew distant, shifting toward the skyline. “’Cause I don’t want to forget, either.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” She tilted her head and crossed her arms to keep herself from touching the bracelet.
“Does to me.” Grey shuttered his eyes once more. He shifted his body, as if preparing to stand, just as a fat raindrop splattered on Avery’s nose. Followed by another and another.
“Dang it!” Avery wiped the spatter from her cheek.
Grey’s head whipped toward her, revealing an adorably surprised expression.
“Did you just say ‘dang it’?” Grey chuckled.
“I don’t like swearing.” Avery shrugged, resisting the urge to squirm.
He stared at her like she was some sort of quaint alien species he’d newly discovered. She braced for a judgmental comment about her being old-fashioned—prim, prudish, snooty—like Matt used to tease.
“Good to know.” Grey whistled for Shaman, apparently unbothered by her straitlaced standards or the raindrops pelting his head. He stuck another lollipop in his mouth and said, “Well, dang it, A-vree. Guess I’m gonna get soaked.”
She couldn’t repress her smile at his devilishly cute grin. Once again, he’d set off a series of somersaults in her stomach. I’m in trouble.
“My car is just two blocks away. I’ll run for it and pick you up on the sidewalk right over there.” She pointed then stood and yanked her jacket hood over her head. “Be right back.”
Three minutes later, she pulled up to the curb to ferry the now-drenched man and his dog home. Shaman whimpered and sniffed at her car, quickly filling the space with doggy odor.
Grey climbed in carefully, wincing in pain.
“You pushed too hard, didn’t you?” She shook her head.
Grey waved away her concern with his hand, quickly changing the subject. “Why am I not surprised by the color of your car?”
“What’s wrong with it?” She shifted into drive.
“Nothing.” He stared out the windshield, humming.
Avery loved her Hydro Blue Jeep Wrangler. “First my clothes, now my car. What have you got against color?”
“Nothing.” He swiveled in his seat. “I like color, especially on you.”
Wiggling his brows made him appear childlike, especially considering the lollipop stick dangling from his lips. His flirtatious manner kept her emotions knocking around like a pinball.
She shouldn’t be spending time alone with him, and it certainly shouldn’t be so enjoyable. But as long as she didn’t cross any lines and remained objective when it came to his care, she could treat him.
When she pulled up to his building, she shifted the car into park. “Let me help you deal with the dog and the crutches.”
“Sure.” He let Shaman out of the backseat. “Be warned, this place isn’t much to look at.”
Wet clothes stuck to Grey’s body. His hair hung in wavy ringlets. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight. Don’t worry; I won’t be looking at your place when there are more tempting options.
Avery hid her red cheeks by retrieving his crutches from her car. She followed Grey and Shaman up the stairs. When they entered the apartment, Shaman darted for his food bowl.
“The bathroom’s back there if you need a towel.” Grey pointed toward the back of the apartment.
“That’s okay. I should get going.” She shouldn’t be here cozying up to the man with the power to devastate her family. They’d keel over if they knew she’d spent part of her Saturday hanging out and holding hands with Grey Lowell.
She scanned the living room. Grey hadn’t been falsely modest about his apartment.
Barren. Brown. Boring.
“No wonder you tease me about color.”
“Told you.” He grinned.
Nervous tension pulsed in the air, holding her captive.
Her own soggy clothes clung to her body, making her cold and uncomfortable. She should go.
Really.
It was well past time for her to go.
Yet her stupid feet refused to budge. Being near Grey felt a little bit like being gently pulled under water by a whirlpool, one too strong to fight. She glanced around again and noticed the keyboard. “You play?”
“Yeah.” His cheeks actually turned pink for a change. “My mom’s a music teacher.”
Another interesting layer to explore. “Will you play something for me?”
He tilted his head and shrugged. “Any requests?”
“One of your favorites,” she suggested, hoping to learn something about him from his selection.
He sat on the cushioned bench, twisting the bracelet around his wrist a time or two, deep in thought. Finally, he began.
The first quick notes were played with one hand until suddenly the song burst into an unfamiliar, turbulent melody.
Affecting.
Complex.
It captured the tone of her day, making her fascinated and uncomfortable.
She watched him play the melancholy tune, the faraway look in his eyes revealing a pensive side.
“What is this?” She stepped closer, transfixed. The energy rolling off his shoulders brushed across her body, awakening some forgotten hope.
“George Winston’s ‘Sea,’” he replied without looking at her.
“I love it.” She wanted to touch him. Might have, too, if the apartment door hadn’t suddenly swung open.
“Well, hello there, drenched ones.” A giant, dark-haired god of a man in ski clothes waltzed into the living room. “Tell me, Enchantress, what magic spell did you cast to get Grey to play for you? It’s usually ‘hell no’ whenever I ask.”
The music stopped as Grey swung himself around on the bench.
“Trip, this is A-ver-ee, my PT.” He paused. “And she doesn’t like swearing.”
“Apologies, sweet therapist.” Trip held out his hand. “Pleasure’s all mine. In fact, right now I’m plotting a tumble down The Cirque so I can get in on this action.”
Oh, Trip was a player. Too bad Kelsey hadn’t fallen for his sweet talk over Grey’s less practiced flirtations. Grey’s special blue-jeans-brand of sex appeal had its allure, but Trip was Armani-model handsome.
Together they were a lethal combo.
“All you pro skiers are smooth operators.” How utterly frustrating! In addition to all the other reasons she shouldn’t indulge illusions about Grey, she’d forgotten he belonged to that particular fraternity of womanizers. A single, thirty-something man whose idea of a “good relationship” probably involved a weekend-long fling. Just like that, she found the life jacket needed to keep the whirlpool from taking her under. “I always warn Em and Kelsey about guys like you, but they never listen.” And apparently neither do I.
“Kelsey?” Trip glanced toward Grey, chuckling, and clapped. “She’s friends with Boomerang?”
“Boomerang?” Avery scowled as she pivoted toward Grey. “What? Do you have some kind of little black book of nicknames? Boomerang is awful!”
Before he could respond, Trip broke in again, his carefree smile never faltering. “Well, you know, she keeps coming back time and again. How many texts this week, Grey?”
Grey glared at Trip, but said nothing.
“Kelsey’s a great person, if a little too enthusiastic.” Avery shook her head, glowering. “Instead of being flattered by her attention, you make fun of her?”
Grey shot Trip a death stare before responding. “She’s nice enough, just not my type.”
“Too bad you didn’t figure that out before you led her on and kissed her.” She lit up with a flash of resentment. How had she been fooled into thinking he was different from most men? Mr. Right doesn’t exist.