Good Gracie

by Ines Saint

  Gracie calmly took his hands off her shoulder, walked to the door, and opened it, showing him out and saying, “Come back when you’re not saying baaah or maaah, or cock-a-doodle-do.”

  “Excuse me?” he said, inching his way out.

  “It’s from a Russian proverb. Alex can explain it,” she answered and shut the door in his face.

  Josh went straight upstairs, where the whole gang was hanging out in the apartment where Alex was staying.

  “Baaah, maaah, and cock-a-doodle-do?” he asked.

  Paige smiled. “Alex says it’s self-explanatory.”

  Alex took pity on him. “It means that a person isn’t going to bother listening to you because you’re not making sense.”

  Ruby got up, put both hands on his shoulders, and said, “And if you’re rejecting love over the same reasons you were rejecting our cookies, you aren’t making sense.”

  From where she was sitting, Rosa clucked her tongue. “Except now you’re not only depriving yourself but you’re depriving someone else, too. Someone who has done enough of that herself and who doesn’t deserve to be deprived anymore.”

  That made Josh’s chest contract. Was he hurting Gracie again? After he kept telling her he never would? It wasn’t about the risks. It was about him believing he deserved her. And that was for her to decide, wasn’t it? Deciding for her was disrespecting her, which was what she kept trying to tell him.

  He went back downstairs and knocked on her door. The moment she answered, he swooped her up in his arms. “I carried you here one night because I was afraid of what I was feeling. Now I just want to carry you home.”

  “Wait. It’s cold and I’m not wearing my coat.”

  “I’ll keep you warm.”

  She giggled. “But it smells over there.”

  “Don’t worry; all we’ll be breathing in is each other.” He sprinkled kisses on her forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth, and teased her until he was kissing her deeply, not caring who saw, as he carried Gracie over to the house next door. When he got to the door, he shifted her weight and kicked it open. “I’ve always wanted to do that. Why should Jamar get to have all the fun?”

  He carried her over the threshold and into their manor before he set her down on the scarred floor he knew she loved. “I see us here, don’t you? I see us and at least three kids.”

  “A few minutes ago you weren’t sure I knew what I wanted and now you’re talking kids?” She wrapped her hands around his neck, smiled, and kissed him softly.

  He grinned against her soft lips, his blood beginning to heat up. “What can I say? Cock-a-doodle-do.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured as he swooped her up in his arms again to carry her upstairs. “Indeed.”

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  Prologue

  Six months ago . . .

  Matt Williams took off his work safety glasses and blinked hard a few times, trying to get the dust out of his eyes. What had possessed him to think he could drywall the place himself in only one long weekend? He sighed. It was past midnight, he had a meeting early the next morning with a company thinking of opening a subsidiary in the region, he was covered in sweat and dust, and he felt dead tired.

  A knock on the door surprised him out of his thoughts. Who could be at the door of a house he didn’t even live in yet at half past one in the morning? He smiled when he remembered his little neighbor telling him he’d seen Bessie White, one of the town’s most famous ghosts, banging on his door a week back. The kid’s mom had told him he had a wild imagination.

  Matt walked to the window nearest to the door and peered out. A pale woman with hair so black it was almost blue was standing at his door, wearing a white, billowy nightgown. A chill ran down his spine, and it said something about his bleary eyesight and groggy mind that for a split second there, he wondered if the haunting vision was a ghost.

  Shaking his head, he opened the door. The woman blinked up at him and stared. There was a dazed look to her eyes, and Matt took a step back in case she was high or drunk. Drunks, he knew too well, could be violent.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  The woman tilted her head to the side and said, “You don’t look like Justin. You don’t sound like him either.” A few tears welled up in her bright blue eyes and rolled down her pale, freckled cheeks. “Where is he? Do you know?” she asked.

  Something about the profound sadness in her voice and the confusion in her eyes made Matt’s chest compress, and for an odd moment it was almost as if he could feel the stranger’s deep sorrow. One moment his heart was reaching out to her, the next he was giving his head a quick shake, telling himself to wake up and be reasonable. Common sense kicked in and he made a quick study of the woman to make sure she wasn’t holding anything that could be used as a weapon.

  Next, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him, not wanting to be alone with a woman who was so obviously out of it. He looked around to make sure the whole thing wasn’t some sort of sick prank and then focused on the stranger. Her glassy-eyed stare was still fixed on him, as if she was waiting for an answer.

  “Uh—no, I don’t know where Justin is. But Ray Walker lives next door and he knows everyone in town. I’ll give him a call to see if he can come over to help you.”

  The woman shook her head. “Sheriff Walker was no help. He never found him,” she said, her voice full of despair.

  Matt didn’t know what to say. He hated to wake up his elderly neighbor, but he had no choice. If the woman knew Walker, it stood to reason the retired, longtime sheriff knew her, too. “Let’s call him anyway. He can help us get you home.”

  The woman’s face crumpled. “This is our home. But you’re not Justin.” Fresh tears ran down her face, and against his better judgement, Matt reached out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. Maybe the woman had lived here at some point and now that she was ill, she’d come back to a place she knew.

  “Don’t cry. We’ll figure this all out. I’m not Justin, but I want to help you. I promise. Why don’t you have a seat on that rocker while I call Sheriff Walker?”

  The woman nodded and, to Matt’s surprise, waddled over to the rocker, holding her back and planting her legs wide as she sat down, as if she were pregnant. Maybe the nightgown was hiding something, but as far as Matt could see, she was either not pregnant or not far enough along to merit waddling.

  For the second time that evening Matt gave his confused head a shake. He made the call, and the groggy-sounding old man became instantly alert when Matt explained the situation. Walker assured him that he’d be right over.

  Matt sat down on the rocker facing the woman. She was now rubbing her belly and singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Her voice didn’t have much range, but it was sweet and melodious, and under other circumstances he would have enjoyed it.

  When she was done, she looked over at him, her eyes still glazed. “I–I remember now. We were going to buy the house and fix it up someday. Did we hire you? I’m so tired sometimes, so tired of waiting for Justin and for the baby, that I forget things.”

  Afraid to upset her, Matt wasn’t sure what he should say. He decided on, “The house was bought and it’s being fixed up, yes,” because it seemed like a safe answer. A movement caught Matt’s eye and he saw it was Ray Walker, sprinting awkwardly across the lawn in a short navy-blue robe. When he climbed the porch steps and got a look at the woman, the worry lines on his face cleared. “Hope,” he said with a sad smile. “I thought it might be you.”

  Hope looked up. “Hello, Sheriff.” She smiled, and Matt was struck by how lovely she was. With her wavy, shoulder-length black hair, almond-shaped bright blue eyes, and the dusting of freckles across her pert nose and cheeks, she was both conventionally pretty and exotic-looking at the same time, but he’d been too anxious about her strange presence at his do
or to notice it before.

  “Let’s call your grandmother.”

  “Am I staying with her?” she asked, her eyes narrowed. “I swear, this baby is such a parasite, he sucks all the nutrients that are supposed to go to my brain, making me forget every damn thing,” she said, her voice full of love.

  “We’ll find out, okay?” Sheriff Walker answered. “Why don’t you come over and we’ll give Sherry a call.”

  Hope shook her head. “No. I want to wait here. I need to supervise the renovation,” she said, and Matt caught something else in her, a take-charge attitude that hadn’t been there before.

  “There’s the Hope I know,” Walker said, before glancing over at Matt to make sure it was all right with him. Matt nodded, and Walker walked a little bit away to make the call in private.

  Hope respectfully but pointedly began grilling Matt about renovation costs and materials, and he answered each and every question, too bemused by the entire situation to do anything other than submit to her inquisition.

  Fifteen minutes later Hope’s grandmother was racing across the lawn, her features lined with worry. Matt recognized her. She was Sherry Stokes, one of the three owners of the Gypsy Fortune Café and Bakery in downtown Spinning Hills. “Hope,” she called, rushing over to hug her granddaughter.

  “Hi, Grandma. Look. We did it. We bought the house.” There was now a childlike quality to her voice that hadn’t been there when she’d been questioning him about the drywall. “Meet the man Justin and I hired to fix the place up. This is . . .” Her nose scrunched up and Matt quickly stuck out his hand.

  “Matt Williams,” he said to Sherry. “I’ve, uh, been by your bakery a few times.”

  Sherry sent him a quick smile and a nod, “Yes, I remember you.” She looked over at Ray Walker. “Can you escort Hope to my car? Be careful not to wake her. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Sure thing,” Walker said. “And don’t worry ’bout Matt. He’s a good guy. Wouldn’t do your granddaughter any harm. And I’m always next door with a rifle anyhow.”

  “I’m sure Matt will remember that,” Sherry answered without looking at Matt. And there was no need to. The unnecessary message had been received, loud and clear. To Hope, Sherry said, “You’re staying with me tonight, honey. Sheriff Walker will take you to my car and I’ll be there in a moment, okay?”

  “Wake her?” Matt looked up at Sherry when Walker was halfway across the lawn with a waddling Hope.

  Sherry eyed him warily, as if she didn’t trust him or relish having this conversation with him but felt she had no choice. “Hope used to sleepwalk. It stopped when she moved out of state, but she’s back and it’s started up again. We’re taking measures, but we’ve got a lot going on and she doesn’t cooperate much. So I’m left to call upon either your sense of honor or your sense of self-preservation, whichever is greater, to tell you that she may come back and that you’re to call me or her sisters right away if she does. I’ll leave you our numbers. Don’t take her inside with you. Keep her out here, but whatever you do, don’t wake her. Sleepwalkers tend to be disoriented when they’re awoken in the middle of an episode, and she could lash out if she’s woken up by someone she doesn’t know. And if you see her around during the day, don’t, under any circumstances, approach her as if you know her. She never remembers anything and she won’t know you.”

  “Yes, ma’am” was all he could think of to say. Sherry gave him five phone numbers and rattled off a few more threats, while Matt tried to explain that he was only there on weekends to work on the house and that he was rarely there so late. He only dared ask one question, and only because it had to do with her safety. “Is she pregnant?” he asked.

  Sherry looked stricken. “No. And please, I know I don’t know you, but I plead with you never to mention what happened here today to anybody. She’d be so hurt.”

  Matt didn’t know if it was the late hour, his exhaustion, or the strange situation, but he was compelled to say something he’d never said aloud before, “Some secrets are necessary to survival, whether physical or emotional. Please trust that I understand that, and that I’ll keep everything that happened here to myself.”

  Sherry left, half-mumbling to herself about it being time to take desperate measures, and Matt was left wondering what had happened to Hope that she was waiting for a man named Justin while rubbing her nonexistent pregnant belly.

  He also wondered if she’d come back and if he’d ever run into her during the day, while they were both out and about, living their other lives.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Inés Saint was born in Zaragoza, Spain. She’s bilingual and bicultural and has spent the last ten years raising her fun, inspiring little boys and sharing her life with the man of her dreams, who also happens to be her best friend and biggest cheerleader. Her greatest joys are spending quality time with family and close friends.

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  PERFECT PAIGE

  When three sisters arrive in Spinning Hills, Ohio, home of the third most-haunted street in the state, they’re looking for solace and support as they clear out the ghosts of their own pasts. But what they find is something a whole lot sweeter . . .

  Paige Galloway has built her life around one principle—being the perfect mom. When the FBI busts into the PTA meeting Paige is about to host in order to arrest her husband, she’s mortified. Fleeing to Spinning Hills, her grandmother’s hometown, Paige is determined to reclaim her title as the mom with the most. That becomes much harder when her husband files for divorce . . . and she learns he’s a lying cheater. Being the perfect mom now means she has to save her ex-husband from himself. But when the agent in charge of the investigation—the man who witnessed her total humiliation—moves in next door, Paige is surprised to find herself drawn to the Fed with the suspicious frown and surprisingly sexy smile....

  After Alex Hooke’s tough-as-nails childhood, Paige’s way of life seems shallow—at least until he gets to know her. Paige is as stubborn and smart as he is, and while his job is to find evidence against her ex-husband, he’s more tempted to investigate the attraction simmering between them. With help from Paige’s nosy family and his own curious relatives, Alex may still get his man—but what he really wants is the woman who introduced him to love.

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  FLIPPED!

  Filled with storybook architecture and rich with history, the town of Spinning Hills, Ohio, has seen better days. Now the Amador brothers are determined to restore the neglected community to its former glory. But it takes more than a hammer and nails to make a house a home . . .

  Perfumer Holly Bell has a nose for scents and a head for dreams. A former military brat who longs to put down roots in Spinning Hills, she’s been saving for years to buy a certain ramshackle Craftsman for herself and her young daughter. For once in her life, everything’s going according to plan—until a real estate flipper steals the house out from under her! She can’t afford to outbid him—but she can’t seem to stop thinking about him either....

  Dan Amador isn’t back in Spinning Hills to stay. Checking on his brothers and renovating one house in the family tradition will be plenty until it’s time to move on. Yet what seemed easy turns out to be anything but, especially when it comes to the gorgeous single mom who lives next door. Before he knows it, Dan seems to be creating the house of her dreams. He doesn’t believe in the kind of fairy-tale ending Holly longs for—but he can’t deny that her stubborn optimism has found its way into his heart....

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  NEEDS A LITTLE TLC

  In Spinning Hills, Ohio, quirky is a good thing—especially the charming houses that line the streets. One by one, the Amador brothers are restoring them, committed to a new beginning for the old-fashioned town. But they’re learning that every house needs a heart to be a home . . .

  Real estate agent Ca
ssidy Morgan specializes in historic homes, but her own history is something she likes to avoid. Back in Spinning Hills for the first time in ten years, she has a chance to put her small agency on the map as the premier Realtor of restored houses. But it means a partnership with the one man she’s never forgotten—and can’t quite resist . . .

  Sam Amador doesn’t quit—and he doesn’t run away from his problems, like a certain stubborn, extremely attractive real estate agent did all those years ago. Working with Cassie is a risk, but Sam knows his heart is more likely to suffer than his renovation business. How can he convince her that this time, Spinning Hills is where she belongs—and that his love has always been hers?

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  FIXER-UPPER

  Spinning Hills, Ohio, sure is sweet, which might be why the Amador brothers are not only renovating the town’s lovely houses but settling down in them. Because there’s nothing more blissful than coming home to a houseful of love . . .

  Masquerade parties weren’t exactly Johnny Amador’s thing—until he found himself captivated by a witty, dark-eyed young woman in a peasant costume. Even her mask couldn’t obscure her beauty. Only after a disastrous case of mistaken identity did he discover that his mystery woman was none other than Marissa Medina, his best friend’s youngest sister—which brings a whole new set of challenges.