Hold On (Play On #2.5)(5)

Grayson King. The instructor I’d kneed in the ’nads.

Oh my God.

Holy Moly…

And now I was staring.

But in all fairness he was staring intensely back at me and with the most delicious blue eyes. He had thick dark brown hair that he left just long enough to curl at the nape of his neck.

Then there were those eyes. A rich cobalt blue framed with not long but thick, black lashes.

As for his face with his cut cheekbones, wide, square jaw, and full mouth, he was the picture of masculine beauty. If it weren’t for the slight crook in his nose that suggested it had been broken at some point, his unshaven face, and his imposing build, he might have been too perfect.

But he wasn’t. He was gorgeous with an edge. He had faint laughter lines around his eyes and I guessed him at around my brother’s age—about thirty years old or so. He wore a black dress shirt open at the collar and black suit trousers. There was no part of his outfit that said “I’m trying” and he looked effortlessly hot.

Between his immense attractiveness and the fact that I’d embarrassed myself in front of him I felt unusually defensive. “May I help you?”

He seemed not in the least perturbed by my tone. Instead he turned to the bartender. “A red for the lady, a beer for me.”

“You got it.” The bartender wandered off to do as bid.

Grayson’s lips curled up at the corners as he angled his body toward mine. “You’re the girl who flattened me today.”

“One, I’m a woman, not a girl.”

His lids lowered as his gaze dipped down my body and leisurely back up again in a way that forced me to hide a shiver of desire.

What. The. Hell.

“Two”—I was pretty sure my voice now sounded hoarse—“I don’t weigh enough to flatten you. Have you seen you?”

When he returned his gaze to my eyes there was a heat in his he didn’t bother hiding. “You’re right. Poor choice of words.”

Unsure how to deal with his blatant interest considering he was the sexiest man I’d ever met and I definitely had not come to Montana for a fling, I willed the bartender to come back.

In fact, I willed Catie and Kyle to hurry the heck up.

“I don’t get it,” Grayson said.

“Get what?”

“I was around the other side of the bar, saw you walk in. Didn’t know you were the woman from today. You glide across the restaurant in a pair of sky-high heels like you’re barefooted. No way, you walking in here with all that grace, I’d know you were the woman that took me out on the slopes today.”

My cheeks burned, not only at his compliment but at his teasing. “I’m not good on skis,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I got that.” He grinned.

God, even his grin, slightly crooked like his nose, was bloody sexy. Not fair, Universe! My staring at him like an idiot made his smile disappear. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You waiting on someone?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly, even though I suspected he was asking if I was waiting on a man.

His gaze fell to my left hand and I knew he was looking for a ring. When he found none our eyes locked again. His expression was altogether too soft and too hot. “What’s your name, angel?”

I didn’t know why I gave it to him. I shouldn’t have. “Autumn.”

His lips parted as he studied my face and hair. Voice hoarse, he said, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

There was something almost reverent in his tone that made my spine straighten. “And you’re Grayson?”

“You can call me Gray.”

The bartender returned. “Wine. Beer.”

“My tab,” Gray replied as he gently pushed the wine toward me and took his beer.

“Oh no, I’ll pay for my own drink.”

“No way.” Gray shook his head at the bartender and the guy walked off to serve someone else.

I stared at my wine, uncertain if it came with a whole bunch of strings attached to it.

“It’s just a drink, Autumn.”

“I’m not…” I looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m not here to hook up or get involved with anyone.”

“You got a man?”

“No. And I’m not looking for one.”

Gray leaned into me and I got a whiff of delicious, spicy, musky, masculine cologne that made me want to press my face into his throat.

Fuck.

“Take the drink.”

“No strings attached to it, right?” I curled my fingers around the stem of the wineglass.

Those blue eyes held me utterly captive as he replied, “Woman, you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Take the drink or leave the drink, I’m not going anywhere until you say you’ll have dinner with me.”

My breath caught at the epic compliment. He sounded so sincere I wanted to believe him. Yet, he wasn’t the first man to tell me I was beautiful (although admittedly he was the first to say it like that!) and I somehow always ended up getting hurt after it got them what they wanted.

“I can’t.” Even I heard how unsure I sounded.

“You have to.” He gave me a teasing smile. “Or I’m going to pine. I’m going to pine hard.”