Page 20 of The False Flat

“I’m sorry. I come off as a jerk sometimes, and I have no idea how to correct this flaw. Deanna likes you.” He stopped, smiled. “Like I said, don’t know why, but she does. Please text her. That’s the first thing.”

“And the second?” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

“Go on at least one bike ride with our group.” He winced, then held up a hand to stop the protest poised on my tongue. “Don’t use me as a measure for the group. Everyone else is charming. You’ll like them.”

“I don’t know. They associate with you, though, so . . .”

“Do I need to beg? I’ll get on my knees.”

“I forgive you, and I’ll text Deanna. But the bike ride? That’s really not necessary.”

“You don’t know Deanna well enough yet. She gets what she wants, and she follows through on threats. You have to come.”

“I don’t have to do—”

To my significant alarm, he was getting on his knees.

“Pen, what the hell? Is this guy proposing to you?” The question came from the stairs behind me. Chad was awake. Slightly jealous, slightly possessive, slightly macho-around-male-threats Chad was awake, and Grant was kneeling in front of me.

I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, Chad was standing beside me, a shirtless wonder with loose gray jogging pants around his slim waist, and Grant was extending his hand up to him—his knees still on the floor like this was a completely normal situation.

“Not proposing.” Nothing derailed Grant from his business, not even a half-naked man walking into the room. “Convincing Penelope to save my relationship with my sister. I’m Grant, by the way.”

Chad took Grant’s hand. “Chad, Pen’s boyfriend.” Well, so much for taking things slow.

“I gathered that.” Grant eyed Chad’s abdomen. “So, Penelope, will you go on that bike ride? We meet every Sunday. If tomorrow’s too soon, you can go next weekend or the weekend after that.”

“Bike ride? Like a date?” Chad asked. “So, you’re not proposing, but you are asking my girlfriend on a date . . . right in front of me?” He looked around the room as if to find someone to sympathize with him.

I opened my mouth, closed it again. I wanted to slowly walk backward, ascend the stairs, and be alone with the treats I was still holding. I’d always kind of liked how Chad got jealous, and it had never seemed too much—until now. Now he looked like a muscled meathead.

Pen Chad’s. Grant not take Pen away from Chad. I stifled a giggle.

“Not a date, just a—”

I cut Grant off. “Fine. One bike ride, but please get up.” I turned toward Chad’s open mouth. “I’ll explain when he leaves, which he was about to do, right, Grant?”

Chad’s jaw clenched. “I can tell you that.”

Oh my goodness.

“I’ve accomplished what I came to do.” Grant was already up and walking toward the door.

Chad started to follow, but the back of my hand on his chest stopped him from moving forward.

At the door, Grant turned, and his right hand came toward me. I saw Chad flinch out of the corner of my eye.

Grant’s hand wrapped around the cup in mine. Our fingers touched, and I swallowed the flutter coming up from my stomach. Holding my gaze, his eyes asked This is what you want? as his lips said, “I’ll save you from my disgusting drink.”

How dare his eyes ask if Chad was what I wanted. If circumstances had been different, maybe I’d want something else, someone else. But certainly not Grant. Why had my mind gone there? “Dating” and “Grant” didn’t belong in the same sentence. It was the tea. He’d spiked it with something. That’s why it’d been so damned delicious. Or maybe I was reading too much into his expression. Ugh! He needed to leave.

He eased the cup out of my hand.

Neither one of us acknowledged that it was empty.

CHAPTER 9