Free The Mind (The Reluctant Romantics #1.5) by Kate Stewart

I took one look at you and a thousand memories we hadn't made hit me in waves. I can’t explain it and it may seem fast to you, but to me, it’s as natural as taking my next breath. Maybe I’m full of shit, maybe you’ll prove me wrong, but so far everything inside me says the minute I saw you I was done with the unknown and my life had just started. Call it impulse and heartbeat in tune for the first fucking time in my life. I’m going after something I feel in my gut is right.”
    He pulled away from me, the sudden absence of his warmth all too noticeable. He watched me for a beat and then submerged himself under the water before he pulled himself back onto the float. He resumed his seat, popping another beer as I noticed his jaw line harden, but I refused to cater to his tantrum. This was too much, and it was ridiculous for him to think that I would just go along with it all without thinking it through or getting to know him better.
    “I’m not giving up,” he said, cutting his eyes at me as I remained in the water. “I might be a little ticked off with myself right now, bearing my soul to you like this, saying all these things I never thought I would say to a woman and making a damn fool of myself, but I’m not giving up.”
    “I don’t know what to say, Grant.”
    “Stay with me, here, today. That’s enough.”
    I pulled myself onto the island in the center of the pond. Soon after, we dropped the serious discussion and began splashing around with the ducks and at each other. We argued over the radio as I switched it to a rap station. Grant protested profusely until I started rapping to him, fully involved with arms and the swivel of my hips, keeping him entertained. An hour later, the sun started to drop behind us and I was buzzing heavily as my eyes started to follow Grant’s every move. I could feel my hunger building as he spoke about his home in Tennessee and how he couldn’t wait to be back in Texas permanently. In exchange, I told him stories about Dallas and me, and the torture we put our parents through growing up. He listened attentively and laughed as I told him about the first time Dallas and I got drunk together.
    “So we pull up to the drive-through window, and the shots we’d just had suddenly hit us hard .”
    “Drinking and driving?” Grant said with an authoritative tone.
    “ Actually , Judgey McJudgerson,” I growled out as a slow smile spread across his face, “we didn’t make it that far. The drive-through was in the same shopping center as the bar. So, yes, I drove drunk all of six feet, and at about two miles per hour. Are you going to let me tell you this story?”
    “Go on then, baby,” he urged in a thick southern drawl, lifting a beer to his lips with a grin.
    “Anyway, we were hysterical by the time we made it to the window, and I actually passed it as it opened and the guy there was set to greet us. He caught on to us immediately as I stuck the car in reverse and had to back up to reach the window. Dallas was laughing so hard she peed her pants right there. I was trying my best to console the guy in the drive-through as he voiced his concern for our safety. Anyway, I had already decided to park and call a cab after we got our food, but before we pulled away the guy at the window had to make sure he voiced his concern again. ‘Ladies, are you sure you’re okay to drive?’ I lifted my hand and waved him off with an ‘Oh, we’re fine. Really, don’t worry.’ And just as I said it . . .” I paused my story as I snorted, “. . . I put my foot on the gas and we went backwards! I’d never taken the car our out of reverse!” I started howling as I recalled the look of sheer terror on the man’s face. “There was no one behind us, thank God, or it would have been worse. And I did park right then and called a cab while Mrs. Pissed Pants ate my food and hers.” Grant was eyeing me with a huge grin on his face. “But that’s us, you know. That’s how we are. It