The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(45)
Author: Jessica Clare

When she said nothing, he got up from his desk and moved over to hers. “I’m almost done with the expenses spreadsheet,” she told him. “I know it should have been done yesterday, but I was busy.”

He shrugged and her hackles went up.

Grant never shrugged about expenses. Never.

Brenna watched him with wary eyes as he came and sat on the edge of her desk, next to where she was seated. He sat so close, she could have reached over and jiggled his junk. Heck, maybe she would just to distract him.

“Brenna,” he said in a soft voice. “We need to talk.”

Oh no. “You’re talking right now,” she told him casually. “Newsflash.”

“I’m being serious.”

“You’re always serious.”

“And you’re never serious, which is what brings me back to what I wanted to talk to you about.” He adjusted his glasses on his face. “The future.”

She groaned. “Again? Do we have to? I thought we were on the same page for once.”

“I’m concerned that you don’t have a solid life plan. When you told me you were homeless, I . . .” He shook his head, seemingly unable to continue. “It’s unfathomable. You can’t coast along in life for the next fifty years.”

Actually, she’d kind of planned on doing just that. “I don’t see why this is coming up now.”

“It’s coming up because . . .” He sighed heavily. “I like you and me. Together. In my bed.”

“I like it, too. So what’s the problem?”

Grant reached out and brushed a lock of purple hair off her forehead. “The problem is that I worry about your safety. And I think of what you did for me—protecting me when you knew I needed it. I want to do the same for you. You’re exciting and sexy and just what I need to make me get my head out of the sand. And that’s why I think we should get married. So we can continue like this, and even if we decide to go our separate ways later, you’ll have safety. Financially, anyway.”

She recoiled from his touch, her chair skidding backward a foot. “Did you just propose to me?”

“I did.” When she simply stared at him, he continued. “We can look at it as insurance, of a kind. I care for you and don’t want you to worry about your financial future. Think of it like . . . a 401(k).”

“A 401(k),” she repeated blankly.

“Yes. You put away money in a 401(k) to save for your future. You could marry me and it’ll be an investment in your future. You’d never have to worry about being homeless again. It’s a sound decision, if you think about it.”

Sound decision? 401(k)? Investment in her future? Was this a marriage proposal or a banking inquiry? Brenna studied him, then forced a pleasant smile to her face. “No, thank you. I’m not interested.”

“What do you mean, you’re not interested?”

She kept the smile on her face, though it was getting difficult in the face of his disapproval. “I mean just what I said. I don’t want to be tied down, and marriage is the ultimate in being tied down.”

“It’s about security—”

“I’m not interested in that.”

“How can you not be?” He didn’t seem to grasp it.

“The same way I’m not interested in a relationship with emotions and all that crap,” Brenna snapped. “Quit pressuring me.”

“I’m not pressuring you. I just want this thing—”

“There is no ‘thing’ between us,” Brenna said. “Unless you mean a sexual free-for-all.”

“That’s not true—”

She stood up. “Look, Grant. Clearly you’re getting confused about the nature of our relationship. I like ha**ng s*x with you. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t want anything from you other than sex. That means no coffee mugs, no bracelets, no panties, and no emotions, all right? Just sex. This thing started out between us because I didn’t want anyone harassing you but me, all right? That hasn’t changed.”

“Just sex,” he said flatly. “That’s all?”

“That’s all,” she told him. “And if you want more than that, you’ve got the wrong girl. I can move out of your cabin if it’s making things too difficult.”

“No,” he said harshly, getting to his feet. “Wouldn’t want you to be homeless again.”

And he stormed out of the room.

Well, that went well. Brenna sat back down at her desk and stared at her computer screen. She felt . . . weird. Numb. Hollow. Kind of like crying, which was stupid. There were no emotions involved in this, she reminded herself. Just sex.

No one got hurt when it was just sex, right?

• • •

Grant ignored her for the rest of the day. She told herself that it was what she wanted, anyhow. She needed a break from him, so she’d snagged Rome on his way into the main lodge and decided to train him on how to drive an ATV. They spent the day riding up and down the trails, and delivering paintball equipment to Dane’s crew out in the woods so they could get their game in. The paintball team games were popular with all of the visitors, so they made sure every group had at least one run. Rome was helpful passing out guns and paint ammo and listening to her instructions as if she were spouting gold. He already seemed to be friendly with Dane. Then again, everyone got along with Dane.

When she couldn’t stand waiting any longer, she eventually headed back to the main lodge and parked her ATV in the garage. She didn’t even have the heart to tinker with it to give Pop something to do. She was too distracted. She might have said she was depressed, but she wasn’t letting emotion get to her.

Why did Grant have to go and ruin a perfectly fun relationship? Count on him to take something that was so enjoyable and turn it. She should have known better than to get involved with him.

But you’re not involved, that little voice in her head said. That was the problem, according to Grant.

When she got back to the main lodge, the lights were off and the room was dark. She frowned, glancing at the clock. It was just a hair past five. Normally everyone hung out and worked late. Grant sure did. But tonight he was nowhere to be seen. Had he gone home without her?

“It’s not home,” she muttered to herself as she sat down at her desk. Great. Now he had her saying that stuff, too.

Her message light was flickering, and she picked up the phone and hit the voicemail button.