Betty didn’t move. She couldn’t. She stood frozen as Grayson closed the distance between them. Up close, he was even more imposing than he had been from a distance. He smelled of woodsmoke and a cold, metallic sharpness that reminded her of the winter air just before a storm hits.
He stopped just inches from her, his presence a physical weight. "You’re out early," he said, his voice dropping into a low, resonant hum. "The woods aren't exactly welcoming at this hour."
Betty shook off the initial trance, her defensive walls snapping back into place. She tilted her chin up, meeting his gaze with a forced confidence. "I’m taking a walk, Grayson. It’s a revolutionary concept, I know. People do it for exercise, or perhaps to get away from people who ask too many questions."
A ghost of a smirk
