by Jodi Vaughn
Their first fight happened when he told her she needed to leave the ballet. She’d told him he was crazy and that she’d never quit. Ballet had been her dream since she was a little girl. He didn’t like her answer. He’d beaten her, fracturing her leg. She’d passed out from the excruciating pain. When she came around she was in the ER with Michael at her side. He’d whispered that she was to tell the doctor she’d fallen off a horse, . then threatening to kill her if she didn’t obey. So, she’d lied.
After her leg was put in a cast, he took her back to his penthouse.
He’d proposed a week later. Still reeling from his violent attack, she didn’t speak. His blue eyes changed colors, like his mood, and she knew he was about to hit her. She’d said yes to avoid his abuse. The next day she called her father when Michael wasn’t around.
Her father told her to get to his attorney’s office in Connecticut immediately. He said he’d meet her there.
Just as she was packing, Michael strode into the bedroom where she was busy throwing clothes into a small bag. She looked at him and placed his engagement ring on the dresser. The ten carat princess cut stone set in platinum was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Her freedom was worth far more.
He beat her until she lost consciousness. She remembered feeling the pain of her own ribs cracking as he kicked her while she was curled up in a ball on the floor. He rained down blows until she blacked out. The last thought she had was praying to die.
She woke up in a hospital, hooked up to machines. When the doctor asked how she got such injuries, Michael told him she’d, once again, fallen off a horse and was dragged. Before Michael left the hospital he made sure to shove that damn ring on her finger as a reminder of who she belonged to.
She sucked in a deep breath as she forced those horrible images away.
Even in her freedom, she was still trapped in the hell of her memories.
***
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting the last rays of daylight across the small town. Most of the stores had closed for the day and only the few cozy restaurants on Main Street were still open. Grace pulled her car to the side of the street and glanced down at the address scribbled on the card. According to the address, Allison lived above the antique store on Main Street.
Grace grabbed the cake platter and opened her door. She knew she’d better take the dish back to Allison before she came looking for it. It didn’t help her peace of mind when Sloan had shown up unexpectedly on her doorstep. She decided to be preemptive. Armed with a map of the town and Allison’s address, she quickly found the apartment.
Grace walked around the building on Main Street and eyed the aged wooden steps leading up to the loft apartment.
A single Adirondack chair and small table adorned the small stoop. A green plant perched in the middle of the table, its vines trailing over the sides in a green cascade.
Grace held her breath and knocked.
The metal door swung open. Allison’s brown eyes widened and then she let out a squeal.
“Grace! Oh, my gosh, I’m so glad you’re here.” She tugged her inside before Grace could utter a single word.
She held out the dish. “I was just returning this to you. The cake was wonderful. You really shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.”
Allison’s face fell. “It was dry wasn’t it? I knew I didn’t add enough oil.”
“No, no. The cake was delicious. I had a piece with every meal. Even breakfast.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it was wonderful.”
Allison smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. Come on into the kitchen. I was just finishing getting the salad ready.”
Grace held up her hands and took a step back. “I don’t want to interrupt you.”
“Do you have plans tonight?” Allison hooked her arm in Grace’s and led her further into the apartment.
“Well . . .”
“Allison, who’s your friend?” A beautiful red-haired woman came around the corner with a wine glass in her hand. She was tall and lean with legs for days. With auburn hair and jade eyes, the woman looked like she’d stepped off a European runway.
“This is Grace Witherspoon.” Allison patted her on the arm. “Grace, this is my best friend, Tabitha Miller.”
“Nice to meet you, Grace.” Tabitha held out her free hand. “Glad to see that Allison didn’t do any damage when she ran you over.”
Allison gasped.
Grace arched her brow. “I guess I’m pretty hard to kill.”
Tabitha barked out a laugh.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Sloan said you looked fine to him, but men aren’t really observant.” Allison set the cake plate on the concrete countertop in the kitchen. Despite the industrial look of the loft, bursts of color softened the large space. The kitchen opened up to the living and dining room. The grey sofa was piled with pillows in colors of white and pink, while a tufted square ottoman in a paisley blue doubled as a coffee table. The dining room table was long and made of distressed wood with contemporary white chairs tucked underneath. A laptop sat at the end of the table and Grace assumed the area functioned as an office as well.
“Sloan was right. I’m perfectly okay.”
“Why don’t you stay for dinner? We’ve got more than enough.” Tabitha pulled down another wine glass and filled it before handing it to Grace.
“I really can’t stay.” She eyed the glass of red liquid with longing.
Tabitha laughed. “If you don’t stay tonight, Allison will just pester you to death until you agree. She’s very persistent.”
Allison’s mouth dropped. “You act like I’m a stalker.”
“No, honey. Just a worrywart.” Tabitha gave a knowing look at Grace. “Stay, if for nothing else, to prove to Allison you’re fine.”
Tabitha was right. She could only dodge Allison so many times before making the woman suspicious.
What harm could having dinner do anyway?
Grace smiled. “Sure. I’d love to stay for dinner.”
***
Allison chatted as she put the finishing touches on the salad while the lasagna cooked. Grace offered to help with dinner, but Allison refused, insisting Grace make herself at home. Settling herself on a barstool, she listened to the friendly blonde.
“I love your loft.” Grace eyed the tall ceilings and wooden beams.
“Thanks. I’m still settling in, trying to make it my own.”
“I can relate to that,” Grace murmured.
“You two should go to the annual yard sale,” Tabitha offered as she set the table.
“That’s a great idea.” Allison grinned. “I totally forgot about that.”
“What’s the annual yard sale?” Grace looked between the two women.
“It’s where the surrounding small towns get together and do a yard sale along the highway. It starts in Cloverton and goes for about thirty miles.” Tabitha shrugged. “You could find some good stuff for your house.”
“I could borrow Sloan’s truck. That way we can load up a bunch of stuff.”
Grace’s stomach tumbled at the mention of Sloan.
“I’m sure Sloan wouldn’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t mind what?” Sloan’s voice drifted in from the front door.
Grace froze in her seat, afraid to turn around. Her gaze landed on the table where she saw four place settings.
Perfect.
***
Sloan shut the door behind him and held up a six pack of beer. “I guess I should have called to see if you needed anything from the liquor store.” He froze as his gaze landed on Grace sitting quietly at the bar. His stomach clenched.
“We already made a trip and got wine.” Allison lifted her glass of wine in the air.
“Come and sit down, Sloan,” Tabitha ordered as she helped Allison put the meal on the table. “You remember Grace. She’s joining us.”
He didn’t miss the way Tabitha cut her eyes at him, assessing his reaction. Damn Allison’s matchmaking schemes. H
e’d been set up. Again.
“Glad you could join us, Grace.”
Grace eased off the barstool. “I didn’t realize this was a family dinner. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“In a small town everyone is family.” Tabitha plopped down in her seat and pulled out the chair next to her. “Sit next to me, Grace. That way I won’t have to pass the wine.”
Grace chuckled. The surprising melody of it made something tug in his chest. Grace slid into the chair as Tabitha waggled her eyebrows at Sloan.
After everyone’s plate was filled with lasagna, salad and garlic bread, he cut his eyes at his little sister. “So tell me, why do you need my truck?”
“For the annual yard sale next weekend. I need more furniture and I’m sure Grace does too. I’ll trade you my car.”
He grimaced.
“Come on, Sloan. You can drive the chick car for one day,” Tabitha taunted before popping a piece of bread into her mouth.
“Hey, my car is not a chick car.” Allison frowned.
“Yes it is.” Sloan and Tabitha spoke in unison.
“I can barely cram myself into it.” He had cautioned Allison against buying the sporty convertible, but she just had to have it. Cuteness had won out over convenience.
“Come on. Be a sport. Just think how you’ll be helping out your sister and our new girl in town.” Tabitha patted Grace on the shoulder.
Grace flinched under the touch. No one else had seen her reaction and she quickly recovered. Something else was going on with their newest member of Cloverton, Tennessee.
He took a long drink from his beer and leaned back in the chair. “So, Grace, how do you like it here?”
She looked up at him with those large blue eyes. “I’m starting to settle in. Just takes time to get used to a new place.”
“Where did you move from?” Tabitha asked before taking a bite of lasagna.
“Idaho.”
“Really?” Tabitha snorted.
Grace jerked her head toward her.
“Sorry. I just figured you would have come from some place bigger, you know, more exciting.”
Grace smiled and her shoulders relaxed. “Nope. Sorry, just boring old Idaho.”
“So what do you do for a living?” Allison asked.
Grace took her time as she chewed her food. Clearing her throat, she set her fork down. “I teach dance.”
“Oooh, really.” This got Tabitha’s attention. “You mean like pole dancing?”
Sloan choked on his beer and coughed.
“No. Nothing like that.” Grace’s face was as red as a beet.
“Tabitha!” Allison chided.
“I didn’t mean like was she a stripper.” Tabitha sighed and gave everyone a droll look. “There are pole dance exercise classes in Memphis. Those instructors make bank.”
“Those instructors are all probably strippers.” Allison grimaced. “Sorry, Grace, Tabitha doesn’t really have a filter.”
“What?” Tabitha gave Grace an innocent look. “It was a compliment if anything. I mean look at you, you’re drop dead gorgeous. I bet you could rake in the money if you wanted.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind if I can’t find a job.” Grace took a sip of her wine.
Sloan cleared his throat. “What kind of dance do you teach?”
“Usually ballet. I have taught hip hop on occasion.” She studied the food on her plate.
“So you don’t have a job at the moment?” Sloan kept his tone light, his gaze observant. Years of being a police officer had his bullshit radar going off like a siren.
“Not at the moment. I guess I wasn’t sure if I still wanted to teach dance or try my hand at something else.”
“Wow, that is so cool.” Allison cupped her chin in her palm. “I’d love to be able to be that brave to start another career.”
“What do you do, Allison?”
“I’m an interior designer.” She shrugged. “Nothing exciting.”
“Of course that’s exciting. I wish I were that creative. You must be very busy.”
“Not exactly. It hasn’t helped that business has been slow for the last few months. I’ve had to take on another job. Decorating the new preschool with murals of cartoon rabbits and squirrels is not my idea of exciting.”
“I told you that you didn’t have to move out.” Sloan sighed heavily. He couldn’t help but worry about his sister. Since their parents had passed away when Allison was in junior high, he’d taken on the responsibility of being both brother and parent.
“I refused to continue to live with my brother out in the sticks.” Allison’s gaze landed on Grace and she cringed. “Sorry, Grace.”
Grace smiled. “No offense taken. I happen to prefer living in the sticks. It’s very peaceful.”
“Peaceful is code word for boring,” Tabitha interjected before filling her wine glass again. “How do your parents feel about you moving all the way to Tennessee?”
Grace’s face paled. “My parents are dead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Grace, “Allison said.
“It’s okay.”
Sloan shifted in his seat. The silence grew heavy in the large space. From Grace’s pained expression, she had been close to her parents.
“I’m guessing you’ll need my truck for the whole day, when you ladies do your shopping.”
“Actually, the sale lasts the whole weekend. It starts on Friday and goes through Sunday. Or we may luck out and get everything we need in one day.” Allison cocked her head. “Think you can drive my convertible that long?”
He grimaced. “I’ll have to see a chiropractor when I’m done.”
“Or me,” Tabitha said brightly.
Grace gave the girl a surprised look. “I didn’t picture you as a chiropractor.”
Tabitha smirked. “I’m not. I’m a massage therapist.”
“She’s a torture specialist.” Sloan deadpanned.
“Come on, big guy. I thought you’d like the hot stone therapy. It’s great for muscles and stress,” Tabitha said.
“Third degree burns are not a stress reliever.”
“You’re such a baby.” Tabitha folded her arms across her chest.
“He did have welts all down his back, Tabitha.” Allison pointed her fork at her.
“Okay, so I get the stones too hot one time and no one lets me live it down.” She took a drink of her wine and looked at Grace. “I usually do deep tissue and Swedish massage. The hot stones were something I was trying out.”
“She’s not telling you that she didn’t even go to training for that. She found some flat rocks at the creek and stuck them in the oven. The next thing I know, my back feels like someone poured gasoline on it and lit a match.”
“I don’t have the time or money to get trained in that stuff. I don’t think anybody around here is going to be booking appointments for that anyway.” Tabitha sighed.
After dinner, Sloan helped Allison with the dishes while Grace and Tabitha sat on the balcony enjoying their wine and watching the streetlamps come to life on Main Street.
“I saw the way you were looking at her.” Allison elbowed him in the side.
“I always look at Tabitha with suspicion.” Sloan dried the plate with the dishtowel, not liking the direction of the conversation.
“I was talking about Grace.”
“Don’t start, Allison.”
“What are you talking about? I was just . . .”
“Look, I know what you’re doing. I find it very interesting that you ‘forgot’ to tell me you had invited Grace over for dinner.” He set the dishcloth down and faced her.
Allison turned and narrowed her eyes. “Sloan, I . . .”
He held up his hand. “No, you listen. I don’t need your help to get a date. And I sure as hell don’t need to be thrown together with another desperate woman.”
Allison’s widened gaze was fixed over his shoulder.
His gut clenched. He knew without turning around that Grace had heard ev
erything.
He turned and ran his hand across his neck. “Grace, I . . .”
“Thank you for dinner, Allison. It was delicious and you are a wonderful hostess.” Grace then turned to him and glared. “Rest assured, Mr. Jackson. I am not a desperate woman. Even if I were and you were the last man on earth, I would seriously consider becoming a lesbian.”
His mouth dropped opened.
Tabitha snickered.
Grace slammed the door behind her as she left.
“Way to go, smooth talker.” Tabitha clamped her hand on his shoulder. “Good thing you aren’t interested. I think it’s safe to say she’ll never want to see you again.”
He told himself he wasn’t interested. So why did he have this unsettling feeling in his gut?
***
On the drive home, Grace rolled down the windows and cranked up the radio. How dare Sloan Jackson think she was after him? Getting involved with an egotistical man was the last thing on her mind.
She breathed in the brisk night air as she drove down her dirt road toward home. It always amazed her how calming just being out in the country truly was.
She pulled into her driveway and eased out of her car. Stars splattered across the inky canvas sky quickly turned her anger into awe. She never knew how many stars a country night could hold.
As she walked up to her porch, she quickly shoved away any thoughts about Sloan Jackson.
He wasn’t worth it anyway.
Chapter Three
Sloan had fucked up royally.
After the debacle with Grace, Allison had been on his ass the whole weekend. She was convinced that Grace would never want to be friends with her and that he was the reason. He felt lower than dirt.
Allison had been so supportive after Felicia Dantry had broken his heart. After the breakup, Allison had waited to make sure he was okay before moving out of the big ranch-style house.
Sloan had repaid her by screwing up her friendship with Grace.
His whole day at work had crawled by, despite spending most of it in his car, checking the various 911 calls that had come in. So far he had dealt with two domestic disturbances, one complaint of someone shoplifting nail polish at the Main Street Grocery, and one irate customer at the Dairy Queen who wasn’t satisfied with the way the girl had made her ice cream cone. She said it wasn’t nearly as tall and swirly as the ad. Sloan had decided that people were crazy and there was no cure for being an idiot.
