“We should probably talk about what happened,” Grace said, her words coming out in a rush. “You know…last night.”
Matt sighed and ran his hands through his thick hair, scrubbing at the stubble on his chin before nodding. “Yeah. We should.” But he didn’t say anything else, and his short, succinct replies were starting to work on Grace’s last nerve. Why was he making this so hard?
“The sex was…” She paused, a little embarrassed. Good Lord the sex was hot. So, so hot. And she wanted more of it. Lots more of it. Her cheeks heated and she hoped like hell they weren’t as red as the Thunderbird parked a few feet away. “I...” Her eyes fell to the floor. Okay. She was almost twenty-six. So why did she feel like a bumbling teenager?
Matt was right in front of her now, his boots in her line of vision.
“Hey,” he said, voice heavy with the rasp she loved so much. She tried to move out of his reach but he wouldn’t let her. “Hey.” His fingers swept under her chin and lifted up, so that she was forced to look into his eyes.
Wrong thing to do. She wanted to drown in them. She was drowning in them.
“I’m clean if that’s what you’re worried about. Last night was the first time I’ve ever had sex without a condom. And for that I apologize. I think we both got carried away.”
“Oh. Right.” She’d been ready to beg him for another go, and he was thinking about things she probably should have been thinking about.
A small frown furrowed his brow. “You’re on the pill though, right?”
She nodded. She had pills. She had a tiny packet of them. Too bad she’d left it with the rest of her toiletries in her rental.
“Then we’re good.”
“We’re good,” she murmured. “All good. So, so…good.” Grace tried to wrangle her way out of his grasp but he wouldn’t let her.
“You’re upset.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Why would I be upset? We had sex. It happened. You’re clean. I’m clean. There will be no…” She gulped. “There will be no babies and we’re all good.”
His hand was still on her, but he cupped the side of her face and she couldn’t help herself—she leaned into him, welcoming his warmth.
“I’ll drive you to the airport.”
“No, I…I have my rental and I’ve got to get Josh there as well.”
He stepped closer to her, his warmth washing over her skin, his scent lingering in the air between them. “So you’re coming back in a few days then.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“Good.” It was only word, but it was all she needed. For now.
“How long before you have to be at the airport?” His voice was husky, thick with sinful things.
She covered his large hand with her much smaller one. She knew what he was asking. And no they hadn’t really talked, but there was something here between them. And right now, in this moment, she was willing to forget about the talking in order keep whatever this was alive.
Here she was. Was she willing to jump?
“We have enough time for me to fulfill a fantasy I’ve always had.”
“Fantasy?” Matt flashed a smile. “I’ll do my best.”
“I’ve never had sex in the backseat of a car before.”
A thrill shot through Grace at the heated look in his eyes. He bent closer, his breath hot on her cheek. “Which one?”
Grace snuggled into him, and grabbed his hand. “Whichever one has the biggest backseat.”
Matt slid his mouth along her neck. “The Thunderbird doesn’t have a back seat but it’s front will do just fine.”
Her heart skipped a beat and she felt dizzy. Because she was already falling. Was the trip down going to be worth it this time? Would the pain be bearable if things went south?
In the end, Grace knew that there was only one way to find out. This man—this complicated, infuriating, tender, secretive man—was one hundred percent, totally worth it. She was going to jump.
“The Thunderbird it is.”
12
Thursday evening came on the heels of yet another two inches of snow. New Waterford was covered in the white stuff, and all the locals agreed that the area hadn’t seen this much snow in nearly one hundred years.
They still had two weeks until Thanksgiving, and already the small town was lit up like a Christmas tree. Apparently it didn’t take much to spread the holiday cheer, although that particular brand of joy hadn’t made its way to one very grumpy Matt Hawkins.
As he headed into the Grill, he had to ask himself for at least the tenth time, why in hell he’d decided to come out.
“Hurry up, Matt. Geez, I’m freezing my butt off out here.”
Oh. Right. Betty Jo Barker would be that pain-in-the-ass reason.
He opened the door and waited for her to enter, and they were immediately swarmed by the members of their challenge team. They joined the men and women at the bar, and eventually Matt relaxed. Betty hadn’t been home in ages and her sisters had all managed a night out.
Damn, he would have been better off watching the Red Wings game with Beau, Logan, and Shayne. But Betty wouldn’t hear of it, and he’d never been able to say no to the girl.
So Matt ordered a draft, grabbed a barstool, and settled in for the show. The Barker triplets were something to see, three identical women who couldn’t be more different in personality—and three women who attracted trouble like bees to honey.
Betty had always been his person, the hellraiser—the only other human being on the planet who really got him. And watching her whoop it up with her sisters made his heart swell. It was good to see her and he was damn glad she was back home.
“Missed me, didn’t you?” She nearly knocked him off his stool as she slipped her arms around him and yelled across the bar for a jug of beer. The girl had traveled the world as a model and had recently made a name for herself as a serious actress, but she was still a downhome Michigan girl. And she hadn’t changed a bit.
She waited for Duke to fill the jug, and Matt felt her eyes on him. She made this sound—the one that told him she was digging for something. Guess he couldn’t hide from her forever. She wasn’t the type to let anything slide past.
“What?” he asked, nodding to one of the guys seated a few stools away.
“I had a chat with Grace, yesterday.”
“Yeah?” He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, considering Grace was Betty’s sister-in-law.
Duke slid a full jug across the bar and Betty grabbed it. She didn’t move and he knew she wasn’t anywhere near done with him. The fact that she hadn’t brought it up earlier was some kind of miracle.
“She’s flying in tomorrow and coming to the house for dinner.” Betty paused for a few moments, her blue tipped fingers holding onto the jug. “She asked if you’d be there.”
Matt didn’t react—people thought Betty was a good actor? Hell, she had nothing on him. He’d been acting in some form or another his entire life it seemed. But the truth was, it felt good to know Grace was asking after him. They’d talked a few times since she’d left Monday. But it had only been a few text messages—Matt had never been good at the communication thing.
“What did you tell her?” he asked lightly, taking another sip from his mug.
“What do you think I told her? Of course you’re coming for dinner.” Betty eyed him a little too closely. “Did you sleep with her?”
Okay. She was his best friend. His go-to when things got rough. And sure they’d been through a lot together. But there was no way in hell he was discussing Grace Simon with her. Not now anyway. This wasn’t Nashville. He was still trying to figure things out himself, so what good would it do?
He nodded toward her table. “Your sisters are waiting for their beer.”
“Oh my God, Matt. I told you to leave her alone. Why didn’t you leave her alone?” Gone was the lightness and as he turned to look at Betty, he realized a few things.
One, she was pissed at him—and not just a
little bit. She was in full-on anger mode.
And two, she was looking at him as if he’d committed some kind of reprehensible crime. She was looking at him the same way he used to look at Delilah.
That got his back up and Matt pushed away from the bar, suddenly just as angry as Betty was.
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Damn right you are,” she yelled, slamming the full jug onto the bar, and splashing a good amount of it all over his sleeve.
Neither one of them cared that they were in the middle of the Roadside Grill. Betty had always been up for causing a scene, and Matt Hawkins was known for it. The couple sitting beside him scrambled off their stools, and made some room. Probably a smart move considering the anticipated dust-up.
Matt studied Betty through narrowed eyes. He didn’t have what it took to deal with her right now. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He was pissed off, tired, and done with people.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Matt shoved his way past Betty and the crowd parted like the red sea. His anger grew with each step and he’d just made it to the parking lot when someone yanked on his jacket and damn near pulled it off.
One guess as to who that someone was.
“Don’t you walk away from me like that,” Betty Jo snapped, glaring at him. “Let’s have an adult conversation. Let’s talk about Grace.”
“I don’t want to talk about Grace.” He tugged his hat from his pocket.
“You don’t…” Her eyes widened. “We always talk about the women you bang.”
His anger was near to boiling and he had to take a step back. “Watch your mouth, Betty Jo. I don’t want to hear you talk about Grace like that. Understand me? She’s not…”
He stumbled over his words and then swore like a sailor. There was no rationale behind his anger—at least none that he could think of. But if anyone other than Betty Jo had been in front of him, he just might have thrown a punch.
She wrapped her arms around her body, shivering in the cold night air, and her eyes narrowed as she studied him in silence.
“She’s not like the others. Is that what you were going to say?”
Matt’s lips were clamped together so tightly that pain radiated along his jaw. Muttering a bunch of words that would never earn him a seat in church, he shoved his hands into his pockets. Because it was either that or he would hit something.
He looked up into the night sky and shrugged. “I don’t know what she is.”
Betty was silent for a few more moments—some kind of record for her—and then she moved toward him, hugging him with all the ferocity of a mother cub.
“That’s a start,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” he asked gruffly. But he knew, didn’t he?
“She means something to you. That’s never happened before.”
He didn’t reply because he honestly didn’t know what to say. He was a man in his thirties and he’d never been in a relationship with a woman before. At least not one that wasn’t toxic.
“She’s special,” Betty said, pulling away. “Grace has the biggest heart of anyone I know. And you know how much I love you, but…”
“But you’re afraid I’m going to hurt her.”
Betty nodded. “It’s kind of been your MO.”
Matt had to look away. Betty’s honesty was brutal and real and full of the kind of truth he’d been running from his entire life. He always ruined the good shit. Always.
“The thing is, Matt, looking at you is like looking into a mirror for me. Up until I met Beau, we shared the same MO. How many men did I walk away from? How many men did I use and how many more did I let use me? I didn’t know what it meant to be loved. Didn’t know what it meant to offer up my heart to another human being. To let that human being hold it and nurture it. I had no idea what it meant to love someone so much that you’d be willing to die for them.”
She kicked at a snowdrift. “Literally die for them.” Her head shot up and Matt could see she was dead serious. “I would die for Beau Simon and he would do the same for me. Might sound dramatic and over the top, but that’s what love can be like.”
She reached up and kissed his cheek, sliding her hands up along either side of his face so that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t look away.
“If I can finally let someone in, you can too.”
Betty took a step back and pointed to the bar. “I should get back to my sisters. They’re probably worried that I beat the crap out of you or something.”
“Can’t be too worried. No one’s come out to check on me.”
“You coming back in?”
He wasn’t in the mood for crowds and people. He needed some time alone. He needed to think.
“Nah. I’m good. Gonna head home and check in on Rosie.”
“Okay,” Betty said with a soft smile. “See you tomorrow night?”
Matt nodded and turned. “Yeah,” Matt replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He strode across the parking lot and realized as he was getting in his truck, that for the first time since Monday, he was looking forward to something. And that something was Grace.
He stared out into the clear night sky for a long time and then with a small smile, cranked the tunes. As he hummed along to an old Zepplin song, he thought that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for him after all.
13
Grace spent the majority of the week catching up on emails and dealing with her job. She worked for the Simon Foundation, a non-profit that was her father’s baby, with a focus on saving the environment. She did this from the guest house in Nashville. A pretty sweet gig really, and one she was grateful for.
With an upcoming Christmas Eve Gala in New York City, there were more than a few problems to deal with, including a grumpy chef who was driving her insane. By the time Friday rolled around, Grace couldn’t wait to leave it all behind and head to Michigan.
And Matt Hawkins.
She glanced down at her cell one more time and exhaled a shaky breath. Just seeing his words made her stomach flip. Seriously, she hadn’t felt this way over a man in…
“Never,” she whispered.
See you in a few.
It was only a text message but it was enough for Grace, and she smiled settling back into the car. A driver had been waiting for her at the private airstrip just outside of town (all thanks to her brother Beau), and in less than twenty minutes, she’d be with Matt.
And her brother’s Beau and Tucker.
And the Barker triplets.
Oh and their husbands.
And then there were the kids, Abel and Fitz.
It would be busy, loud, and chaotic but that was probably a good thing. She needed something to take her mind off of Matt, because now that she was here, doubt bunnies were running rampant, causing all sorts of havoc with her stomach.
“Oh God,” she groaned. Maybe she should have just stayed home. Maybe he was just being polite because they’d had sex. Lots of hot, hot, sex.
It’s not as if they’d actually talked this week. A few text messages here and there. She knew he was a man of few words, but still…
She pushed at the hair stuck to her neck, suddenly hot and more than a little bothered. She could tell the driver to turn around. Tell her brothers that something had come up and she couldn’t make it. She could have made up all kinds of reasons for not showing up, but as luck would have it, she’d be about five minutes too late.
The car pulled up in front of a large, home nestled among evergreen trees. The windows were ablaze with lights, and the driveway was filled with an assortment of vehicles, including Matt’s truck.
“Miss Simon?” The driver looked over his shoulder. “This is the address. I’ll grab your bag.”
Slowly, Grace slipped out of the car, accepted her weekender bag, and after offering a tip and a thank-you, she turned to the house. It took her more than a few minutes to get up enough nerve to walk up to the porch, but she managed. And sure she stood there for at leas
t another five before gently opening the door to let herself in—but she did it in spite of her nerves.
She was immediately hit with a blast of laughter, music, and excited squeals. The noise came from the back of the house, most likely the kitchen area, and she set down her bag and hung up her coat.
The butterflies. Oh they were having a heyday in her stomach. She exhaled, tried to smooth her hair and before she lost her nerve, quickly turned around.
It was pretty much then that time did a wonky number on her and froze. Her vision blurred and for a scary moment, she thought she was going to pass out.
Matt stood a few feet away.
Blinking rapidly, she wiped her suddenly damp palms against her jean-clad thighs, and wished like hell the lump in her throat would disappear. She couldn’t speak because she knew she’d sound like a complete moron, so Grace attempted a smile.
“Are you okay?” he asked, taking a step toward her.
“I’m fine,” she managed to say, wishing her cheeks would un-freeze from what had to be the most painful smile in the history of smiles.
He stood before her, dressed in those damn jeans that fit him exactly the way a pair of jeans were meant to fit a guy. Loose enough so they weren’t obscene, but hugging his thighs and ass in a way that made her mouth water. A plain white T-shirt underneath a gray and white plaid shirt, along with his dark hair and devilish eyes, gave him an edge that made her knees weak.
And good God, but the man smelled amazing.
“I’m glad you came,” he said, his voice low and intimate. Matt took the last few steps needed in order to bring him close enough for her touch. And it was more than touching that Grace was thinking about.
She licked her bottom lip—a nervous gesture—and jumped a little when he bent toward her. His mouth came to rest near her ear, and shivers rolled over her body as his warm breath caressed her.
“Keep doing that, Bluebell, and we won’t make it to dinner.”
Heart beating a mile a minute, she pressed her hands flat against his chest, and smiled—a soft, slow smile—because his heart was racing as fast as hers. There was a time when she’d hated the name Bluebell. Yet, Matt could call her that until the cows came home.
Grace (The Family Simon Book 5) Page 8
