All The Wild Ones | Wildfire Series

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NESSA

I smiled shyly at Grayson when I got in his car the next day.

The grin he gave me in return was absolutely not shy. It was knowing and cocky, and I felt myself go crimson as my eyes zeroed in on his curved lips, remembering the things they did to me last night.

"Oh, Nessa," he said with a satisfied sigh as he turned his attention to the road. We pulled out of the parking lot, and I squirmed in my seat. At this point, just his presence, so hot and close to me, was turning me on. It didn't matter that I spent all night wrapped up in his arms. I still wasn't used to it.

"Yeah?" I hated how breathy I sounded.

"Nothing. Do you need anything to eat before we hit the road?"

I shrugged. "I think I'll be fine until we make it home."

He smiled. "So just a caramel macchiato, then?"

"Grayson, you know I'm riding home with you because I want to and not just to get free coffee, right?"

His eyes twinkled. "And you know it was never about the coffee, right?"

"Oh no, it was definitely about the coffee."

He laughed, shaking his head as he kept his eyes on the road. "Pretend all you want, Adler."

"I'm not pretending," I mumbled, but Grayson was unbothered as he pulled into the closest drive-thru and ordered for me. When I tried to pull out my wallet from my purse, he refused to take it. Sighing, I accepted the warm drink, breathing in the rich scent.

Grayson was quiet until we got onto the highway. And then he tapped his finger on the steering wheel and tipped his head to the side.

"Tell me what else you like."

"What else I like?"

"Yeah, I need to know what else you like to eat. And drink. I know your pizza and coffee order. I know you'll put down a cheeseburger and fries like a champ. And I know you like your drinks mixed with whiskey. But that's all I know, and we can't live on that alone. What's your favorite food?"

My stomach flipped at his implication. We can't live on that alone.

"Anything my dad makes, probably."

"Shit, Nessa, that doesn't help me." A little laugh. "Tell me what your dad makes."

"Klepe are my favorite. They're like dumplings."

"Dumplings?" Grayson frowned, probably realizing it would be pretty hard to find dumplings near campus.

"Yeah." I smiled. "Bosnian dumplings. A recipe my dad brought with him when he immigrated to the US to be with my mom."

Grayson glanced over at me with interest. "How did they meet?"

"Well, my mom spent the summer backpacking through Europe in the late 90s. Only she didn't make it very far because she met my dad, and then he wouldn't let her go anywhere else." I laughed. "That's the short of it."

There was a short silence before he followed up with, "What's the long of it?"

My chest squeezed because I could tell he actually wanted to hear more.

"My dad was born and raised in Sarajevo. I don't know what you've heard about the war that took place there in the early 90s, but he lived through it." I paused, taking a sip of my coffee and then staring down at it. "Both of my grandparents were civilian casualties."

Grayson's soft voice wrapped me in a hug. "I'm really sorry, Nessa."

I cleared my throat. It wasn't like I ever knew my grandparents, but their absence still created an ache in my chest. Partly because of the way my dad missed them. It made me realize that if I'd known them, I would have loved more and been loved more.