Despite the turmoil of their relationship twisting inside her, she smiled. “There’s always an ulterior motive with you, isn’t there, McCabe?”
He held out his hand, and she walked to the edge of the bed. Without a word, he pulled her down so they lay sideways, him closest to the window and her back flush against his front. His muscular arms curled around her, protecting and possessive. Although the opportunity for them had passed, she delighted in his nearness, his heat and the rhythmic beat of his heart. She wondered how many more times they had together: one day or maybe two. Her disappointing sigh echoed in the shadowed stillness of the room.
“Grace?” he said against her right ear.
“Hmmm?” she answered.
“What are you thinking?”
She stared at the fireplace, the glow from a low fire, pulsating under the grate. “I’m thinking,” she began, unwilling to tell the truth. “Why haven’t you fixed the window, yet? It’s been almost a week, you know.”
“Clever diversion, but all right,” he said, pulling her closer. “I’ve been a little occupied lately.” He said the words with a more pronounced Irish lilt.
“Oh, women problems?”
“One stubborn and alluring woman, to be exact.”
He brought his hand up to caress her shoulder, the light and rhythmic movements causing her erratic heartbeat to slow and her mind to drift.
She didn’t know how she’d been able to fall asleep, but she awoke the next morning, finding the place beside her empty. Unsure how to face the day, whether head on or guarded, she padded to the bathroom, showered, dressed, and wandered downstairs.
From the foyer, the rich aroma of coffee steered her straight into the kitchen. Disappointed not to find Ayden leaned against the counter, shirtless, a paper in one hand and a large mug in the other, she strode to the cupboard to search for a coffee cup for herself.
Typical of a bachelor’s domain, it sat a fingertip out of range, forcing her to rise on her tiptoes and stretch with extended fingertips to grip the loop of one handle. She almost had it when the front door slammed shut, startling her.
Out of reach, the mug teetered on the edge until it tipped, sailing to the marbled floor and breaking into seven or eight jagged pieces.
“Grace!” Ayden burst into the room, his face masked with worry.
“I’m really not this clumsy,” she assured him, her heart pounding from the noise and his reaction.
“Are you hurt?” He ran toward her, dressed in the same pajama bottoms from the night before. His tan coat opened over his washboard torso, and she wished she’d paid more attention to his question than the way he was dressed.
“What?”
He threw down the paper she assumed he’d retrieved from the porch and maneuvered around the broken pieces to her side.
“What happened?” he said, grasping her wrists to pull her arms away, his intense gaze searching for blood or injury.
“There she is. See, I told you she was pretty.”
Grace glanced around Ayden to find an unfamiliar character, flanked by six other men. All rugged in appearance, half with beards, half clean-shaven, some wearing ball caps, and all of them in jeans, nice shirts, and department store ties.
“Grace, this is my crew. Gregg, Chad, Pete, Kevin, Scott, Dave, and Steve,” he said without turning to look at them.
They either tipped their hats or graced her with a nod, one of them even rendering a casual salute. The one who saluted her appeared the oldest out of the group with a few lines crinkling at his gentle eyes when he smiled. She straightened back to Ayden now, and he glanced down, silent, his thick lashes blinking a string of unsaid thoughts.
Grace sighed, knowing yet another delay stood a few feet away from her. “You’re leaving, again?”
He peered up and then shifted closer to keep their conversation as private as possible. His hot breath teased her lips and sent her pulse thumbing against his hands where they still held her wrists. “The city moved up our bid to today. There’s no way around it.”
She nodded. She couldn’t hide the fact she was disappointed. Not disappointed that she hadn’t found Danielle, but that she missed spending time with Ayden, talking and getting to know him better. She even looked forward to their arguments.
“Look, as soon as I get back, we’ll start piecing some things together. I shouldn’t be too long, okay?”
She didn’t want him to know how much she missed him when he wasn’t there, so she pressed her lips together and said nothing.
“Don’t worry about the mess, and don’t worry about entertaining them. They pretty much amuse themselves.” He sent her a wink and sauntered toward the door.
She nodded before realizing he was leaving her alone with them. “Wait,” she called, frantic. “Where are you going?”
“To take a shower.
She stared after him until she remembered she was not alone. Heat rose in her face, most likely the shade of a Washington apple cocktail. She tamped down the embarrassment of having a handful of men witness her ogle their boss and ambled shyly in their direction.
“Would you like some coffee and pastries?” she asked toward the group, ignoring Ayden’s instructions as she swept up the mess and opened up the very last of her breakfast pastry.
“Sounds great. Yes, ma’am. I’m trying to quit,” came several answers at the same time. The tallest of the group, Chad, offered to help take down the cups as she prepared them three-fourths full. She’d stepped around to retrieve the sugar and evaporated milk when Steve opened the door into the closed dining room, the other men eager to follow.
“Wait!” Grace called, unsure if Ayden wanted them in there, but it was too late. The youngest-looking one, Pete, complained about the darkness and threw open the heavy curtains, allowing a brilliant stream of sunshine inside.
Kevin, the most athletic and certainly the most handsome, complained that the room was too cold and went to the patio to retrieve some dry firewood to build a fire.
In the midst of the gaiety inside the forbidden dining room, Grace tiptoed around, trying to gather someone’s attention. She just didn’t have a good feeling about this. That was until all the men settled down at the enormous table with their coffee cups and her pastry and began talking. She blushed several times when Scott, the man who said he was trying to quit, raved about her baking skills and begged her to teach his girlfriend how to bake. Otherwise, he said, “I’m going to have to stop by every morning now for coffee and breakfast.”
She never corrected his assumption that she’d be here after next week to make the coffee or teach his girlfriend how to do anything. Instead, she sat, mesmerized by the easy and lulling conversation. It reminded her of the B&B in Oregon and why she’d thought about baking in the first place. After several minutes, she began to relax and enjoy their stories. Pete, the narrator of the group, had them bent over laughing about duct taping one of the new guys inside a port-a-potty the day before Thanksgiving.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Grace jumped up, heart pounding and a sick feeling trickling to the bottom of her stomach. She blinked, unable to wipe the image of Ayden’s flaring nostrils and clenched jaw. “Um…” was the only thing she could think to say. The severity of Ayden’s features literally left her breathless.
“What are you doing?” His tone was harsh, his voice shaking; she knew he’d never believe this was not her idea.
“I—”
“I want everybody out now. This isn’t a break area,” he yelled across the large space.
The men rose in quiet unison and filtered out into the hall. She wanted to say something, to defend them, to defend herself. “Ayden?”
He stood, his lips pulled into a thin line and his finger pointing to the space behind her. “You had no right to open this door, Grace. You’re a guest here, and nothing else. Do you understand?”
Tears sprang to her eyes, his words stabbing hard into her chest. She managed to send him a weak no
d, her throat so constricted and unable to form a comprehensible sound.
For some minutes after the front door slammed shut, she couldn’t move. She’d never felt so stuck in her life. At last, she recalled the harshness of Ayden’s words, the hurt of their meaning wrapping around her heart like a barbed vice.
Convinced she’d made a mistake by staying here, she ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She didn’t think of how she’d reach the train station until she rounded the corner and smacked straight into Maggie.
The woman glanced up and then down, her assessment of the situation astute and quick. “Ah damn, what did he do now?”
Grace closed her eyes to keep from bursting into tears. The fact that his sister knew he’d done something to drive Grace away did not bode well with her pride. How often did Maggie find one of Ayden’s broken-hearted women, their bags packed and their hearts in pieces?
“It’s a long story, Maggie. Would you be able to take me to the train station?”
“No, no, no. You’re not leaving that easily.” Maggie wrapped an arm around Grace and led her into the cold bedroom.
“I don’t think you understand.” Grace tried not to hiccup a sob.
“No, I don’t think you understand. I’ve never seen Ayden like this before. Last night he came over, and he was like this teenager. He couldn’t stop smiling. I’ve been waiting for that expression for years, Grace, and you gave it to him.”
“But—”
“I know I’m a little overbearing, but I just want him to be happy like Mom and Dad were. He’s so stubborn. I thought if he found someone he loved, he’d not want to sell this place, that he’d keep their memory alive. That he’d forget all the pain he’s suffered.”
Grace’s intention to tell Maggie everything, melted like ice on a Miami sidewalk.
After a few moments of silent bonding, Maggie pulled away. “I’ll make a deal with you. If, after some lunch, you haven’t changed your mind about leaving, I’ll take you to the train station.”
Positive Ayden didn’t want any more to do with her, Grace agreed, packed her bags, and met Maggie outside in her black-with-rusted-out-trim SUV.
After Grace let Maggie believe she might stay, she’d return home and tell her mother that Danielle was old enough to make her own mistakes, just like the rest of them.
Chapter Nineteen
Ayden sat in the administrative building in the heart of Mistletoe, with Gregg on one side of him and Kevin on the other. His men hadn’t talked to him since he left the house and for good reason.
They continued not to say anything through the questions and PowerPoint presentation as he and his group received odd glances from the mayor, Hank Winslow, and economic development director, Dalphi Lewis.
Dalphi, Ayden groaned inwardly. She was Rachel’s sister, and he had no doubt it would play into the final decision.
“We’ll talk it over with the board and get back to you in a week or two. Good luck,” Dalphi said with no hint of his company winning the bid one way or the other.
At this point, he didn’t even care. All he saw during the entire presentation was Grace’s face, and the tears glistening in her eyes as he unleashed a decade of pent-up pain and resentment.
No matter what, she didn’t deserve his wrath. He hated himself now, hated the fact he’d come to care so much for her. He was breaking every rule he’d made regarding women and relationships and walking over the remnants barefooted.
It didn’t help how he’d lain awake all night holding her, feeling each soft breath she took. Despite his aversion to cuddling in the past, he craved this closeness with her. She fit against him perfectly and ironically. He always thought they needed to be tall.
Now, however, he didn’t want to think if she hated him or if she’d rushed out of the house back to San Francisco and into Rick’s awaiting arms.
“Damn.” His curse drew attention from every corner of the room.
Gregg was the first to saunter forward.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Ayden extended his arm toward his friend and the mediator of the group. Gregg accepted his apology without hesitation.
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to, boss. That woman of yours tried to stop us from using the room. I guess she knew more than us how you didn’t want that door open.”
His men fell away as Ayden brought up his thumb and index finger to rub at the throbbing behind his eyes. Hoping to catch Grace near his phone, he punched the numbers and waited. Since he’d dismantled his answering machine a few days ago over Maggie’s damn flyer, the house phone continued to ring without Grace answering it. He then tried her cell phone number. No answer.
With his patience stretched to the point of snapping, he told his crew to take the rest of the day off and drove back home, praying Francis Tisdale’s grandson wasn’t running radar behind the O’Shannon billboard sign.
He raced up his porch two steps at a time and tore open the door. “Grace!” he called, his throat closing around the word. The house sat so quiet. Too quiet. He faltered, knowing, this time, she’d quit him for good.
****
Grace sat biting her lip every time she wanted to cry. Her sulkiness grew worse, having Ayden’s niece and nephew staring at her from the back seat of their mother’s SUV.
“Are you Uncle Ayden’s girlfriend?” the young boy asked after a long silence. With his head leaned forward as far as it would go in the seat restraint, he waited for Grace’s answer.
“Collin, leave Grace alone.”
“Why—is she sick?”
“Um, no, she’s not sick…we hope.” Maggie leaned over to pat Grace on the kneecap.
Grace stifled a moan, knowing Maggie still believed she’d become pregnant with Ayden’s child. The thought, despite seeing his angry face repeatedly in her mind, made Grace’s stomach flip. Unconsciously, she placed her palm there, catching Maggie’s attention and worrisome headshake.
“Then why do I have to leave her alone?”
Maggie let out a frustrated exhale and sent a sympathetic gaze toward Grace. “He’s at that age, you know.”
Grace didn’t know, and at this stage in her life, twenty-five without any hopeful prospects of a good, much less lasting relationship, she wondered if she ever would know.
“Is he going to marry you?”
“Collin!” Maggie scolded from her rearview mirror, causing Grace to jump and turn to the boy. He stared at his mother with a what did I do now expression before realizing his insistent questions were not worth getting yelled at.
Oh, if only Grace had made Maggie take her straight to the train station four hours ago. Prolonging her dramatic exit from Ayden’s life was not only making her feel worse, but also causing more time to slip away between now and her sister’s uncertain wedding.
“Do you feel like stopping in at the Hawthornes’, Grace? Collin wanted to go shopping for some new ornaments for the tree,” Maggie volunteered brightly. “And then I have to stop at the supermarket to get some groceries for tonight.”
Grace fell to pieces inside, remembering the Christmas Tree Dinner she and Ayden were supposed to attend, together. Christmas, she scoffed to herself. Here was another reason to hibernate for the holidays.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. Why couldn’t she just tell the woman no? No, I have to go home. I have to go and hope Rick is there to…what? Grace thought long and hard for an answer as Maggie parked the vehicle on the curb before the sentimental store.
For more months than she cared to count, Grace had been there for Rick. She was his landing pad, waiting patiently as he hovered, touched down, and then took off again. Grace had been the slab of concrete, remaining steady, strong, and in place. It started when she was nine, and she’d done nothing to change it. When she returned home, she had to cut the cords starting with her mother. Danielle needed to learn to stand on her own, and Grace needed a parent to help her, a role their mother abandoned all those years ago.
Of cou
rse, going back meant leaving, and that meant she’d never see Ayden again. For the hundredth time that morning, she wanted to bury her head in her hands and cry. Instead, however, she followed Maggie into the store, enfolding Collin’s hand in hers as his mother carried Ciara. They shuffled inside, the tinkling bell announcing their ungainly arrival.
Too eager to pick out his ornaments, Collin bolted toward the row of Christmas trees in the corner. The aroma of cinnamon-scented pinecones and vanilla candles infused the festive shop.
Determined to make this her last stop, Grace wandered around, halting at the display table of intricate snow globes she’d admired a few days before. As a child, she’d been drawn to them. She loved the security of such a place, where there were no surprises, only a small world where nothing changed but the falling snow. She picked up the one she admired the most, and shook it with careful hands. Before her, white flakes descended upon a tiny cabin surrounded by two large snow-covered trees. A warm glow of light shone from the cabin’s side windows.
“That’s one of my favorites, too.”
Wilhelmina stood nearby, her soft, wrinkled face radiant from years of happiness.
“I’ll let you have it for free if you bring over some more of those delicious pastries,” she said with a joyful clap of her hands.
Grace opened her mouth to kindly inform the woman she was leaving, when Maggie answered a call on the other side of the store. All the blood rushed from Grace’s face when she guessed the person on the other end.
“No, she’s not, she’s right here with me. At Hawthorne’s,” Maggie said in a reprimanding voice.
“Is that Ayden?” Wilhelmina asked, already making her way to Maggie’s side. “Tell him he needs to buy Grace this snow globe she’s been admiring.”
In horror, Grace shook her head at both women, but they ignored her, especially Maggie. “What? You’re darn right you need to talk to her.”
Grace groaned, searching for the closest route to the door.
“Ayden wants to talk to you.” Maggie extended the phone, some fifteen feet away, in Grace’s direction.
In Mistletoe Page 17
