by Susan Stoker
Knowing what was waiting, she trudged back inside the house.
“Grace Mason, you are a complete failure. You were supposed to bring Bradford into the sitting room. How do you expect him to get to know you if you don’t spend time with him? And you stood in front of him out there like a frigid piece of wood. Next time he kisses you, you need to kiss him back. You’ll never bring him to heel if you don’t at least give him a taste of what he could have once you’re married.”
“But I don’t want to marry him,” Grace protested in a small voice, knowing it was useless, but needing to say it anyway.
Margaret Mason blew off her daughter’s words with a wave of her heavily jeweled hand. “Nonsense. You have no idea what you want. You never have. You’re a weak woman who can’t make any decisions without a man by your side. Bradford is just what we need. His family is rich, and having our two companies connected by marriage will make us even stronger. You’ll do as I say, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
When Grace didn’t respond, Margaret came over to her daughter and gripped her chin, raising her head so she had to look her in the eyes. “Am I clear? You will be marrying Bradford Grant. It’s the best thing that you could do for yourself, and us. The Grants have the money we’ll need to help us keep up our standard of living after we retire. I know you don’t want us to be embarrassed, right?”
“Of course not.” Grace said the words her mother expected to hear.
“I hope you aren’t thinking about driving home this late at night. Go to your room and get some sleep, Grace. You have huge bags under your eyes and I know you wouldn’t want to be seen in public like that. It would be mortifying. You’ve also been gaining weight. It’s obvious to everyone, I’ve even had some comments from some of the clients about it. I’ve told the cook you don’t need breakfast when you’re here. You’re overweight and becoming an embarrassment to us. I hope you’re not stuffing your face with doughnuts when you’re on your own. If you moved back in, I could help you take much better care of yourself. We need you to be healthy so you can take care of us when we need you. Did you know that I had chest pains the other day? It was awful, and I couldn’t get ahold of you.
“Oh, and I wish you’d stop having lunch with that Felicity person. You know, the one covered in those awful tattoos. Why anyone would permanently mark their skin with that crap, I have no idea. She’s beneath you, and now that you’ll be married to Bradford, you can’t associate yourself with anything that makes you look bad. People will start talking and take their business elsewhere. Then what would we do? The business could go under and we’d be penniless. Go on now. Get upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning. Maybe we’ll go shopping tomorrow, and I’ll help you find some appropriate clothes to help you portray yourself in a more flattering light.”
Grace didn’t comment and calmly walked out of the room and headed for the stairs. She undressed and got ready for bed robotically. It was only eight thirty, but it didn’t matter. Grace didn’t feel like fighting with her mother tonight. The second she tried to show a backbone, Margaret slayed her with a guilt trip or viperous words that ate away at her soul.
She’d thought about taking the money she’d hidden away and just disappearing, heading to the coast to put her toes in the sand for the first time ever, but something always stopped her. It was as if Margaret knew when she’d pushed too hard and would suddenly become “mom of the year.” Saying how proud she was of Grace and how grateful she was that her daughter was living in the same town and could help out her parents when they needed it. Grace lived for the words of praise she rarely heard from her mom. Even though she knew she was being manipulated, Grace couldn’t stop it.
She knew Felicity didn’t understand, and Grace wasn’t sure she could even explain it to the other woman. She wanted to leave. Wanted to be out from under her parents’ thumbs. But every time she got up the nerve to do it, her mom would need her desperately, and she’d stay.
She’d once been on the verge of leaving for good. She’d secretly packed a bag, hidden it in the trunk of her car, and had put a deposit down on an apartment in Denver. But the day before she was supposed to leave, the landlord called and told her the apartment wasn’t available any longer.
That night at dinner, Margaret had asked how her day had been and then tsked at her. “Grace, I’m not sure what you were thinking. That apartment up in Denver wasn’t good enough for you. Did you know there were three sex offenders living in the complex? It would be insane for you to live there. Besides which, the commute to your job here would be way too long, and there’s no way you’d be able to get a job up there that was suitable. Walter and I discussed it, and we agree that you obviously aren’t in your right mind. Therefore, you’ll be spending the next month at West Springs Hospital.”
West Springs Hospital was a mental health facility in Grand Junction. Her parents had bribed, blackmailed, threatened, or somehow persuaded a physician to admit her involuntarily with an M-1 hold. That allowed her to be held for only seventy-two hours, but Grace had been so scared of what her parents would do when she was released, she told the doctors that she wanted to stay thirty more days . . . just as she’d been told to do by her mother.
The month or so that she’d lived alongside mentally ill people, legitimately sick, not forced to be there like she was, had been horrendous. It’d been enough to show her that it was better to just go along with what her parents wanted. Not to mention the fact that when she got out, her father had gone to the emergency room because of severe abdominal pain—brought on, he’d claimed, by the stress of worrying about his daughter.
For the first time in a long time, Grace’s thoughts turned to the black place they’d been before she’d met Felicity, when she’d been scared and alone in that mental hospital. Before the other woman had given her a glimpse of the person Grace had always wanted to be. She was going to have to give up Felicity. Their lunches. Her dream of working in the marketing field. All of it. She’d known it was a pipe dream, but had grasped hold nevertheless. Tonight had shown her that it wasn’t to be.
Margaret Mason always got her way. Always.
Chapter Five
Wear your hair up tonight
Grace stared at the text. She was in the office, on a Saturday, because Margaret had decided that her daughter needed to show some initiative. She supposed she could always lie and say she worked on the weekend, but her mother would probably check the security cameras. It wasn’t worth the grief. In Margaret’s mind, if Grace worked on the weekend, that somehow was supposed to prove to Bradford’s parents that she was “wife” material . . . even if she didn’t want to be a wife to Brad.
After work, she was going back to her parents’ house instead of her apartment. She’d wanted to eat ice cream and watch Cinderella for the millionth time. It was one of her favorite movies because she could totally relate to poor Ella. But her father wasn’t feeling well and had asked if she could come and make him his favorite chicken noodle soup that he claimed only she could prepare correctly. She’d agreed, loving that he wanted something only she could provide.
She was the only one in the office, of course, and Grace had risked taking out her phone to see if Felicity had gotten ahold of her. She hadn’t had lunch with her the rest of the week, scared of what her mother would say if she did, but had continued to talk with her via email and text.
Grace: I’m not sure I can go
Felicity: Bull. Ur coming
Grace: I can’t
Felicity: U going to ur parents house?
Grace: Yes
Felicity: I’ll be on your street to get u at eight
Grace: Leese, I can’t
Felicity: If ur not there, I’ll come up & knock on the door
Grace sighed. She would too. The fact that Felicity wouldn’t take no for an answer was one of the reasons why Grace loved her.
Grace: Fine. Eight
Felicity: Wear your hair up<
br />
Grace: I can’t
Felicity: U can. I want to see ur tattoo under the blk light. No one will be there who will tell the witch
Grace bit her lip. She loved her tattoo. She’d told Felicity one night that her tattoos were gorgeous and she wished she could get one. And that had been that. Felicity had pushed, cajoled, and literally browbeaten her into getting it done. They’d driven up to Denver on a Sunday-Grace told her mother that she was visiting Bradford-and the artist who’d done most of Felicity’s ink had completed the small design within twenty minutes.
It was two sparrows in flight and located just below her hairline at the base of her neck. Margaret urged Grace to wear her hair in a low bun at all times, calling it refined and proper, so the tattoo was usually covered. Even if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter, because it was done in a special ink that could be seen only with a black light.
Margaret would have a fit if she knew about it. Literally, would probably have a heart attack if she had any clue her daughter had gotten a tattoo permanently inked on her skin. The small rebellion had made Grace smile for days. It wasn’t so much that she had a tattoo, but more that she’d defied her mother and gotten away with it. It was a simple thing, as far as rebelling against her strict parents went, but it was something.
Her phone vibrated with another text from Felicity.
Felicity: Do it bitch :)
Grace quickly typed out a response, knowing Felicity would continue to badger her until she agreed.
Grace: Okay fine
Felicity: Don’t b late. 8
Grace: I’ll be there
Hearing an engine outside, Grace quickly shoved the illicit phone back into her purse and stood. She wandered over to the windows of the office and looked out.
Logan Anderson.
He’d pulled up on his motorcycle in front of his new office quite a few businesses down from the firm and Grace caught him just as he’d swung his leg over the seat of the bike.
Good Lord in heaven. He was fine.
Grace looked her fill, knowing he couldn’t see her behind the tinted glass of Mason Architectural Firm. She checked him out at length for the first time since he’d been back in town.
He was wearing a black pair of jeans that molded to his legs. She couldn’t see much of his thighs, but his butt was outlined clearly. He had the kind of ass that was just begging to be squeezed. He turned toward the machine and reached up to unbuckle his helmet.
The short-sleeved shirt on his frame did nothing to hide the muscles in his arms as he flexed and moved to hang the helmet on his handlebars. As Grace watched, he put both hands on top of his head and stretched, obviously working out the kinks from riding the bike.
He leaned backward, then side to side, his shirt sliding up, giving Grace a glimpse of a tattoo on his side. Then he turned and leaned his hands on the curved seat of the motorcycle and bent over. Grace’s mouth watered and she gulped.
Again, his shirt rode up, exposing the strong muscles of his lower back, but it was his butt that drew her attention once more. She wanted to shove her hand down the back of his jeans and cup it. To tease him into growling and shoving her back on his motorcycle and throwing up the skirt she was wearing, pulling down her panties and . . .
Grace took a deep breath as Logan turned and headed for the front door of Ace Security. She stumbled backward until the back of her thighs hit the edge of her desk. God. She had no business drooling over Logan Anderson. He’d left her all those years ago and had never looked back. It didn’t matter what pretty words he’d told her before getting on the bus. But it didn’t stop her from wanting him with a kind of need she’d never felt before.
Grace had had sex a few times. Her mother didn’t know, wanting her to stay the same lily-white virgin she’d been the day she was born, but it had been one more way for Grace to defy her. She’d gone out with a man she’d met at work, the son of the president of a rival architectural firm up in Denver. He’d come into the firm with his father for a meeting. They’d chatted, Grace had had dinner with him, and had gone back to his place afterward. The sex wasn’t very good, and Grace had gone back to her apartment with extremely mixed emotions. Satisfied that she’d finally lost her virginity, happy that she’d managed to defy her mother’s wishes, but guilty about it all the same. Regardless of how her mother treated her, Grace loved her and wanted to please her so she’d love her back.
Grace had managed to have sex twice more, with two different men, and had had the same lackluster results. It wasn’t that she hated sex, exactly, but the men she’d been with were more concerned about getting themselves off than worrying about her and her pleasure. None of her sexual experiences had been remotely satisfying, but Grace somehow knew to the marrow of her bones that Logan wouldn’t be like that. She just knew when he took a woman to bed, she’d leave exhausted and sated.
Fingering the tattoo at the base of her skull, Grace closed her eyes and sighed. She wasn’t going to think of Logan and bed. Wasn’t going to think about how much she wanted to have just one night with him. Wasn’t even going to go there. Nope. No way, no how.
The first day she’d met Logan Anderson, sitting across from her trying to be so tough as she attempted to tutor him in history, she’d been hooked. He’d acted like he couldn’t care less about his grades, but with the way he’d listened to her and worked really hard to grasp the concepts she was teaching him, it was more than obvious he did care. As she got to know him, and saw him stand up for, and protect, his brothers, she felt a bone-deep yearning to have someone like that in her own life.
But he’d never given her any indication that he wanted to be anything other than friends, and Grace hadn’t pushed it. When her mother learned who she was tutoring, she warned Grace about spending too much time with “that white-trash Anderson boy.” She said he’d only bring her down, and it would look bad for a Mason to be seen with someone of Logan’s ilk.
At first, Grace resisted. Logan was a good person. Funny. Kind. Protective. It was one of the first times she defied her mother. But when her mother told her that her father could make a call and cause Logan’s dad to lose his job if she continued to spend too much time with him, Grace relented and cut the time she tutored Logan in half.
But she couldn’t stay away from him. Grace knew she was confusing him. Hell, she was confusing herself, but every time she told Logan she couldn’t tutor him anymore, he’d tease and cajole and generally be sweet and funny with her until she agreed to meet him again . . . and the cycle would continue. This happened all throughout their last two years of school, with the last threat by her mother to jeopardize Logan’s enlistment in the Army, the one that made her tell him once and for all that she couldn’t tutor him anymore.
Logan and his brothers hadn’t had an easy life. He’d come to school all the time with bruises and cuts. Each time, Grace knew his mom had smacked him around, but she’d never brought it up, just as she never brought up how her own mother was disappointed in the woman Grace was becoming. They’d only had one conversation about his home life. Just one.
He’d come to school with a black eye that was almost swelled shut. Grace had heard through school gossip that he’d told people he got into a fight with some guys up in Denver, but Grace couldn’t help asking him about it when they settled into their quiet corner in the library.
They spent their entire forty minutes of tutor time talking. Logan told her how horrible his mother was to his father. How he and his brothers always walked on eggshells around her, not knowing what would set her off. He told her that he’d gotten the black eye protecting Nathan and Blake from his mom’s wrath. His brothers had apparently not cleaned their rooms to her expectations, and she’d lit into them. Logan had stepped into the fray and goaded his mom enough that she’d turned her attentions to him rather than his brothers. Logan looked Grace right in the eye after he told her the story and admitted that as soon as he graduated, he was leaving town and never returning.
Grace tr
ied to comfort him, thinking that out of all the people in the school, she was the one person who truly understood what he was going through. Oh, her parents didn’t hit her, but they certainly knew how to slice her to ribbons with their words. It was usually her fault, though. If she were a better daughter, then they wouldn’t have to keep bringing up all the ways she embarrassed them. Not to mention locking her in her room when she displeased them so they didn’t have to look at her.
The best, and worst, day of Grace’s life was the day Logan Anderson left Castle Rock. She knew she’d miss him terribly and couldn’t believe she wouldn’t see him every day. But he’d told her he’d keep in touch. That he wanted her with him. And finally, the one thing she’d wanted for three years of high school looked like it would happen.
Until it didn’t.
His words had stuck with her for years . . . until finally she had to admit that he’d changed his mind. That he’d realized she wasn’t worth the effort. Her parents had been right, she was a disappointment to everyone around her, and she had to work harder to be the kind of person they would be proud of.
Grace scooted around the desk and settled into her chair once more, trying to concentrate on the emails she needed to send.
The thought had been niggling at the back of her mind for months now. She wanted to know. Wanted to confront Logan and ask him why. Why he’d said he would write, and then didn’t. She wanted answers, but was more afraid of what those answers would be.
A small rebellious side of her said that she deserved to know why he’d so cruelly dismissed her. The same side that allowed Felicity to talk her into getting a secret tattoo. The side that said yes to a virtual stranger’s offer of dinner and then a nightcap in his apartment. The side that snuck out of a house to hang out with her one and only friend when she was supposed to be at home taking care of her aging parents, making them proud.
