Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) (14 page)

A giggle is wretched free, and I clamp my hand over my mouth to mute it, but the sound has already alerted him to my presence. Grady turns his head, looking at me over his shoulder. His eyes are bright, highlighted by the coloring of his shirt, and filled with warmth as they rake over me.

They flit from the towel on my head, down to my bare feet, then back to my face. My cheeks begin to burn with his gaze, so I turn away and walk into the living room, placing my dress and now-beloved socks on the recliner with my other belongings. I pivot around to see he’s still watching me, and my face heats another hundred degrees.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I am
not
a giddy schoolgirl.

I’m Cassie Fucking Cooper, damn it.

I do not blush.

I do not giggle.

And I sure as hell don’t get flustered by a guy.

As though reading my thoughts, Grady chuckles, then grins triumphantly.

Jerk.

I roll my eyes, but decide to end the standoff by heading to the kitchen, announcing upon entry, “I just had a very interesting talk with my stomach in which I convinced it to hold off eating itself until we try your cooking.”

Grady laughs. “Is that so?”

“It is. Also, my taste buds would like to know what we’re eating. They like to be prepared.”

More laughter, then Grady jerks his chin at the stove. “Chicken Parmesan. I’ve been craving it since Bambino’s.”

I glance at the pan of cooked pasta already mixed with sauce and the casserole dish with four Parmesan-breaded chicken breasts.

My stomach growls for joy.

“Pipe down, you.” I point at it in warning.

Grady’s shoulders shake as he turns, hefting the dish and placing it onto the island, pink mitts and all.

I grin and gesture toward his hands. “Also your sister’s?”

He shakes his head. “Hell no. These are all mine. Pink is the new black, or haven’t you heard?”

“I must have missed the memo,” I retort.

Smile still on his face, he lifts his arm and brushes the tip of a mitt down my nose. “I have so much to teach you, young grasshopper.”

A breath of laughter passes through my nostrils and I shake my head at his boldness.

“Can I help?” I inquire.

“Dishes are in the cabinet. Silverware is in that drawer.” He points, then continues, “Grab those. I’ll get everything else.”

“On it, boss,” I state with a salute.

After setting out the dishes and silverware, Grady plates our food—which looks amazing, by the way—and we take our seats. Before we eat, Grady lifts his wine glass in my direction. “To getting better acquainted.”

I smile and raise my glass, accepting his offered toast. “To no more skating. Ever.”

A flash of sadness dims his eyes. “I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t my intention, obviously.”

I shrug my shoulders and look down at my plate. “It happens sometimes. I don’t really have any control over it. It wasn’t anything you did, or didn’t do. It’s just
me
,” I end, my tone bordering defeat. “It should be me apologizing. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Grady’s eyebrows shift downward, creasing his forehead. “You could never embarrass me, Cass. Not in that way. Not under those circumstances.”

Cass.

My insides tumble and warmth spreads through me with his use of the nickname, and once again I find myself stunned by how much I love the sound of it coming from his mouth.

The air grows palpable, and I sense the conversation veering down a very treacherous path, so I reroute. “Well, I definitely have a knack for it. Just ask Spencer. I embarrass her all the time. It provides me much joy.”

I conjure a grin.

Grady narrows his eyes.

I cast my stare down to my plate and slice a piece of chicken, bringing it to my mouth. My eyes widen as the chicken melts onto my taste buds and garlic butter floods my mouth. I look back to Grady, covering my very full mouth as I speak. “Thith is amathing, Grady.” I savor each chew, then swallow. “How did you learn to cook like this?”

He lifts his shoulders, bringing his eyes to his own plate. “My sister taught me. Our parents worked nights, so we kind of had to fend for ourselves growing up.”

I nod, then ask, “You’re close? You and your sister?”

Grady swallows his own bite, then looks to me and smiles sadly. “We were, yes. Very.”

I finish my sip of wine, setting the glass down onto the countertop. “Were?”

Grady perches both elbows on either side of his plate, allowing his fork to dangle as he inhales deeply. “Yes. She was murdered her freshman year in college.”

The fork within my grip falls, clanking loudly against the ceramic plate beneath it. “Oh, Grady . . .”

He shakes his head, cutting off my words. “One day she existed, the next she didn’t. She was just . . . gone. I completely lost it after that. Went down a path I’m not proud of, but eventually I made peace with her death and moved forward.”

He sips his wine calmly before continuing. “In fact, she’s a big part of why I became a cop, and she’s the foremost reason I started instructing Krav Maga. I wanted to teach people, women in particular, how to defend themselves if they’re attacked. Every class I have is my homage to her, and every person I teach carries forward a piece of her existence.”

He shrugs. “To me, there’s nothing more vindicating than the ability to find the strength necessary to turn the worst experience imaginable into something so beautiful, it eclipses all the ugliness. It helps to find reason, to find purpose, in something so senseless.”

As I ingest his words, tears fill my eyes, brimming my lashes. I look away from him, embarrassed. Not because of my reaction, but because his words, so poignantly spoken, slice right through my heart. Each word a reminder of my own weakness and fear. Of my inability to cope with the horrors of my past and the disgust that so often overwhelms me. Of the fucking obvious fact that I have no right to be sitting here with someone as truly beautiful as Grady Bennett.

I feel it, the pain his truth brings.

You’re nothing but a slut, Cassandra.

Why are you even here?

You don’t deserve a man like Grady Bennett.

The words may remain unspoken, but I feel every slash they make as they race through my mind.

They hurt.

I inhale deeply as a tidal wave of nausea rolls through my stomach, unleashing its agony, and all of a sudden, I’m not so hungry anymore. Reaching for the napkin by my plate, I wipe my mouth and excuse myself. “I’m sorry . . . I just . . . I need a minute.”

The legs of the barstool screech as I stand, and Grady rises along with me, gripping my arm. “Cassie.”

I shake my head and flash him my palms. “I need a
minute
, Grady.”

Anger works its way through my system, coating my tone. His eyes tighten on mine, his hold still firm around my forearm. “A minute to do what? To get lost in that head of yours?”

I gasp, then clamp my mouth shut, only to open it again. “I don’t need you evaluating me, Grady. Trying to piece me back together. I’m broken, you said it yourself. That’s what you see . . . a girl who’s broken.”

Fury rages within me. My defenses catapult right back into position, and I know what I’m going to do before I even say it. The words scorch as they erupt from my mouth.

“There’s nothing I can offer you except a good fuck. Is that what you want? Is that why you brought me here tonight? To fuck me? Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Let’s do this.” I laugh manically to keep from crying, my own craziness bleeding into my brain. I feel it coming, the darkness as it threatens to swallow me whole.

And all I can think as I begin to disappear is, I need to get away from Grady. It works both ways, and I know my ugliness will eventually eclipse his beauty.

Grady’s eyes remain locked on mine, warning clear in the register of his low tone. “You keep spewing that venom, sweetheart, but you’re striking no one but yourself.”

I scoff under my breath. “You think I care? I can’t do anything to myself that hasn’t already been done.”

Grady draws in a deep breath through his nose, jaw clenched, and I lose the fight with my tears as they begin to gush from my eyes.

His voice softens. “I know what you’re doing, and this shit isn’t going to work on me. You can push me as hard as you like, but I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

“Why?” I sob. “Why does it fucking matter what I do?”

No one has ever cared before.

Why the fuck does
he
care?

You are worth nothing, Cassandra.

Both hands move to grip my upper arms, holding me in place. Grady bends, aligning his face with mine, his eyes all I can see as he whispers, “Because
you
matter. Regardless of what you think, of what you
do
to convince yourself otherwise, you do matter. To me.”

“You barely know me, Grady,” I declare.

His answer is immediate. “I know what I see. What I’ve been trained to see, and what I see on my own. And what I see is when you let that guard down, when you expose that vulnerable part of yourself that you try so desperately to protect, it’s the most precious sight I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s so fucking beautiful, Cass, and if that’s not worth fighting for, then I don’t know what is.”

Our stares are bound and I remain silent, suddenly ill-equipped to formulate a snarky response. With those words, he’s taken all the fight out of me.

Grady senses it and the corner of his mouth shoots up, triumphant. Then he leans, positioning his lips inches from mine, and states, “And regarding
fucking
you, as you so eloquently phrased it, that will happen only when you can give me all of you. Not the tiny bits of yourself that you offer here and there, but every single piece. Because when I take you, I need you to be
there
with me. Not in your head, thinking yourself unworthy and sabotaging us before we even get started. I need you to be there.
With
.
Me
.”

No air remains in my lungs as he backs away and concludes, “I can see we aren’t there yet, but I can tell you, once we are, it’s going to be fucking phenomenal . . . and definitely worth the fight.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I close it, then open it again. Still nothing as his words repeat in my mind.

When.

When I take you . . .

He grins, the damn sexy bastard, and gestures at the table. “Now, I’d like to work on getting us there, but I’d also like to eat. I can’t have you
and
your stomach pissed at me in the same night. That’s one battle I just might lose.”

He winks then taps the seat of my barstool. “
You
I can handle. Your stomach, not so much.”

I take the few necessary steps and slide into the seat, and as I do, my goddamn stomach decides to announce to the entire room just how pissed it actually is. Grady’s brows rise with the corners of his mouth, and I make a measly attempt to not smile, but eventually a weak one crosses my face as I state, “Well, now you’ve gone and done it.”

Grady’s laughter sounds from beside me, and I turn to look at him. As I do, his smile falters a bit, and he brings both hands to the sides of my face, wiping the moisture from my cheeks with his thumbs. “We’ll get ya there, Cass.”

I nod and sniff, then with his hands still cradling my face, I lean forward, silently requesting a kiss on the forehead—something I have never,
ever
done in my life.

But I decide to take this chance, knowing it’s not
there
, but it’s something. A new piece of myself to offer.

Which he happily accepts, as he obliges.

“BLUE!”

“Foot!”

Our shouts are simultaneous as they fill the room from our positions on the mat. All furniture has been moved, slid carefully until flush with the wall to provide the room we need. With his eyes following my movement, Grady grins as he inches his own foot forward to place it on the blue circle.

This is exactly where three glasses of wine with Grady Bennett gets me. It lands me right here, crouched in a pouncing position, playing an impromptu game of Twister. After satisfying the demands of my stomach, we ended up back in his guestroom. I sipped wine while he catalogued the various things he’d kept that belonged to his sister, Ashley.