tricks of time ― grayson hawthorne [the inheritance games]

036. A DEADLY ANSWER

They're arriving in 40 minutes, and I still don't know what I'm supposed to do. All I know is that I'm in for a earful from Alisa and after that, I'm going have to look the rest of the family in the eye and say: Surprise! I'm related to the Laughlins! Just like the other girl who tore this family apart!

Great.

I've been cooking the whole day to get my mind off things. When I dry my hands with a kitchen rag, I take in how much food I've "stress-made."

Casserole, salad, spaghetti, soup, and cookies.

Well... at least they will be greeted with a meal before they have to go through another family ordeal.

As I turn back to the sink, big hands snake around my waist. I jump, just for a second, before easing into the touch when I realize it's just Grayson. He takes a deep, long sniff of me and my hair. It still feels so strange, being so close to each other and finding this new side of him I never thought he was capable of.

"What are you thinking?" I ask him.

"Why do you always smell so good? Like...honey," he says.

"I'm sweating like a pig right now, Gray. I think you're smelling wrong."

"I'm definitely not. Forget that, though, why are you making so much food? We have maids for a reason."

"I'm stress-cooking," I say.

"Stress cooking?" He asks. His face and tone are both laced with amusement.

"Yup," I say. "Stress cooking. God, I still have no clue what I'm supposed to tell them today. Should I just wait it out?"

"It's just going to get worse then," he says, resting his chin on my shoulder. "You're going to keep thinking about it and then you won't be able to think about anything else."

He spins me around so that I'm facing him, before entwining my hand in his and kissing me softly. I can basically feel my face heating up and the tips of my ears going red. He breaks the kiss, before leaning in once again, kissing me softly. He shakes his head.

"Your hair smells so good too," he murmurs. "It's driving me crazy." He leans in again, leaving light kisses on my jawline.

"Gray," I manage to say. "They're coming soon."

"So?" He asks.

"So, we need to stop kissing and I need to finish these cookies."

He breaks the kiss, permanent this time— and based on the look on his face, I know an idea has sparked in his head.

"I'll help you. I'll help you...I'm good at baking. Let me help you. Please."

"Okay," I say softly, rolling up his sleeves for him. He doesn't hesitate to dip his finger in flour and rub it on my nose. I giggle, fangirlish-ly, before coating my whole palm with the flour and rubbing it all over his face, leaving a single white handprint printed directly on his face.

"You look like a clown," I say.

"Not any more than you do."

___

Grayson hasn't done any work. They arrived as of 10 minutes ago, and I'm surprised that Alisa hasn't given me a run of her money yet. I guess Jameson must've gotten all the blame, but then again, he kind of does deserve it, considering this was his idea in the first place.

Grayson, however, is leaning on the countertop of the kitchen, while the house illuminates with voices that weren't here just some time ago. He's not distracted by any of it, though. He's just been staring at me in awe for the last half hour. He's staring at me like a child staring at Santa at the mall.