“I’m not talking to him right now. I’m actually pretty mad at him.”
“Dare I ask?”
Brenna considered, wondering how much to share. Beth Ann and Miranda were close friends and had been since grade school. Brenna felt a bit like an outsider when the two of them were together, but they were also her closest girlfriends since moving to Bluebonnet. How much did Miranda want to know? “You sure you want details?”
Miranda gave a firm nod. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on. And you’ve been crying, which makes me want to go and kick Grant in the nuts on your behalf.”
“Okay, but you can’t tell Dane.”
That made Miranda pause and she gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. I won’t tell Dane.”
Brenna fiddled with one of the sleeves of the sweater, adjusting it so she wouldn’t have to meet Miranda’s knowing gaze. “Grant proposed to me a few days ago and when I said no, I started sleeping apart from him. Today, I told Grant I wanted no-strings sex, right? So I approached him for sex and he said it was fine. Except all he did was finger me until I came, and then asked me to get off him.”
Miranda’s jaw dropped.
Brenna felt a little better about things at seeing her reaction. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t crazy for feeling all hurt and emotional. “He wouldn’t even kiss me. Didn’t come, either. Just told me that if I wanted unemotional sex, he was more than willing to lend me a hand, but that was the only involvement he wanted.” She frowned in memory. “I wanted sex, not a human vibrator.”
Miranda was quiet for a moment, and then said thoughtfully, “Unless he was shaking all over, he’d be more like a human dildo.”
“Har de har. You know what I mean.”
“I do, and wow. That was kind of cold of Grant. I’m honestly surprised. He seems like the least likely type to pull a douche move like that.”
“I know,” Brenna said, and her tone was miserable. “And now I feel like shit. He’s ruined everything. Even orgasms.”
Miranda thought for a long moment, toying with the ends of her long hair. Then she glanced over at Brenna again. “You want my opinion? Honest, no holds barred?”
“I think I do? Unless you plan on making me cry, too.”
She chuckled. “Not my game plan.”
“Then go for it.”
“I think he probably doesn’t realize how much he hurt you.” Miranda’s voice was soft, as if she were reluctant to deliver bad news. “You have to remember that Grant’s been wallowing in five years of self-torment and misery because of how Heather died. He’s always going to think that he’s the problem in a relationship—any kind of relationship,” she added quickly when it seemed as if Brenna would protest the state of their “friendship.” “And here’s the thing. You’re so happy and nonchalant most of the time that you probably come across as not caring about anything. And I don’t think that’s true. I think you care, but I think you try to hide it. Maybe you don’t want to care, but it’s clear to me that you do. You need to show Grant how much he hurt you and I think you’ll see him falling all over himself to apologize.”
“So basically, go to him and start the waterworks?”
Miranda laughed. “That’s one way of putting it. But you could always try to just have a sensible conversation about how you do have feelings and he trampled all over them because you turned down his proposal. His rather impromptu proposal, I might add. I mean, you said that you two have been sleeping together for a while, but still . . . that’s kind of moving fast.”
“Really fast,” Brenna muttered. So she might have told a little white lie about the timeframe. Miranda would definitely not understand Grant if Brenna confessed the truth and that they’d only started sleeping together when his parents had come into town. She felt weird about defending him, though. He kept messing things up for them. And yet . . . what if he honestly thought he was giving her what she asked for?
It was a mess no matter how she looked at it. Brenna rubbed her forehead. “Jeez, all I wanted was to pretend to be a guy’s girlfriend and have some kinky sex. Is that too much to ask for?”
“Apparently.” Miranda’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Did you want to check out the library’s copy of the Kama Sutra?”
She thought about it for a moment. “Actually, yes. I think I would.”
ELEVEN
Grant’s car wasn’t in the parking lot when she pulled up to the lodge. He must have been visiting his family. That suited her just fine. She avoided the main lodge and headed straight to his cabin, letting herself in. She found a fluffy stack of towels and a bathrobe, so she took a shower and then wrapped herself in his bathrobe and toweled her hair dry. Then she sat down on his couch to wait for his return, idly flipping through the pages of the Kama Sutra. Who knew that a picture book would have so many words in it?
Her hair was almost dry when she heard the sound of steps on the gravel path, and she opened to a specific page, then glanced over at the door.
When Grant walked in and saw her in his bathrobe, reading a book, he looked momentarily dumbfounded. Then he frowned. “What are you doing?”
She held up the book. “Reading.”
“No, I mean . . . what are you doing here? I thought you moved out.” He set his keys down on a nearby table and approached her.
She shrugged. “My grand plan of living in the main lodge didn’t involve a shower. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t mind. You know my home is open to you.” That husky, affectionate note had returned to his voice, and just hearing it made her skin prickle with awareness. He moved forward, and then paused. “What are you reading?”
“Oh, this old thing?” Brenna waved the book idly. “Just brushing up. Did you know there’s a position in which a man windmills around while the woman bounces on his dick? I can’t say I’d ever want to try that one, but I’m open to a few of these others. I’ve bookmarked a few pages.” She held it up and showed him several dog-eared pages, and then added in a silky voice, “Not that you care about that.”
“Brenna.” He sat down on the edge of the couch, near where her feet were. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“You should be. You hurt my feelings.” To her horror, tears started to form and she blinked rapidly, trying to quell the onslaught. “If I wanted a mount, I’d just buy a dildo. Understand?”