Grace (The Family Simon Book 5)

by Juliana Stone

What the hell had just happened?

  “Shit,” she said out loud. Because of the no-talking thing, she had no idea who this Delilah was, or what her relationship was to Matt. She stood there for a few more moments pondering that before heading back to the great room to help Rosie outside.

  She knew what she had to do. It was time for her to put an end to the no talking-thing. If Grace and Matt were going to last, if they were ever going to be a thing, then it was time for her to dig deeper into the life of Matt Hawkins.

  No more skirting the issue. They needed to talk. Really talk.

  And dammit, she needed to know who the hell Delilah was.

  20

  “You are an absolute gem, Mathew.” Dory grinned and thanked him again for driving to town to pick her up at the train station. Hell, he would have driven to the airport if she’d called him earlier, but as it was when she did contact him she’d already been on her way back to New Waterford.

  It had been seven in the morning when her SOS came through, and it had taken everything in him to get out of bed and not stay snuggled up to a very sleepy, very warm, and extremely cuddly Grace Simon.

  But Matt couldn’t ignore Dory, her damn kids weren’t answering their phones. So he’d kissed his slumbering woman and crawled out of bed. Within half an hour, he was at Dory’s. He opened up her place—made sure the heat and water was turned on, and then plowed out her driveway which was full of snow again. Then he’d driven to town to fetch her from the station and was just now carrying her suitcases into her house.

  “So what’d she do?” he asked, setting down one very large zebra print bag. “Your sister.”

  Dory made a face and swept by him, her legs surprisingly nimble for such a small, old woman. “She’s carrying on with the neighbor, that’s what she’s doing.”

  Matt tried not to smile. “Is that so?”

  “That is so. Her neighbor, Mathew. A man nearly fifteen years younger than her.”

  “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, Dory, but if that was a guy, we’d all be high-fiving him.”

  She looked at him over the top of her glasses and frowned. “Would you be high-fiving him if his neighbor was married?”

  Matt dropped the bags of groceries they’d stopped for and closed the door. “Okay, now I see the problem.”

  “That’s right. My sister the harlot.”

  He laughed. “Come on, she’s family. You can’t go around calling her names like that.”

  “I certainly can. If not my family than who else?” Dory headed to her kitchen. “That’s the thing about families, Mathew. We sure can’t pick them. We get what we get and we have to muddle through.”

  Matt had to agree with Dory on that score.

  “My sister is a harlot and shame on her for carrying on with a married man. I don’t care if his wife is in a coma.”

  Again, Matt tried to hide a grin. “How long’s she been in a coma?”

  “It’s been five years, but that doesn’t make it right. Not at all. Harlot. That’s what she is.” Dory pulled out a pink glazed teapot shaped like a pig’s head and glanced over to Matt. “Are you in a hurry?”

  He thought of Grace tangled in his sheets. All that hair. Those lips. That body. The little noises she made when he touched her in the special spots, the spots that made her quiver with desire.

  “You’ll have a spot of tea with me before you go?”

  Dory looked so damn hopeful that he couldn’t say no. He unpacked the groceries while Dory put them away, and ten minutes later he sat at her kitchen table with a hot cup of tea and a plate of shortbread cookies in front of him.

  “So, tell me about Grace.”

  He nearly choked on a cookie and once he swallowed it, he took a sip of tea to wash it down.

  “She’s at my place. Kind of never left.”

  Dory was surprised. He could tell.

  “I like her. She’s good for you.” Dory dunked her cookie into her tea. “Where does she normally live? When she’s not staying with you?”

  “Nashville, I think.” He frowned, unsure. “Or maybe Florida.”

  Dory’s eyebrows rose and she made a ‘tsk’ sound. “You don’t know where her home is?”

  “We haven’t really talked about any of that stuff.”

  “And why not? Aren’t you interested in her story? I sure am. I’d love to know more about the only woman I’ve met who’s managed to finagle her way—“

  “Finagle?”

  “Don’t interrupt me, Mathew. Yes. Finagle.” She frowned. “No. Not finagle. That’s not the right word. She’s not devious. She didn’t trick you.” Dory smiled, her faded blue eyes soft. “Sometimes my brain doesn’t work the way I’d like it to. What I mean to say is that she’s the only woman who’s managed to crack that tough exterior of yours. She must be special is all. You know, for you to let her in.”

  Matt nodded slowly. “She is special,” he said after a few moments. “But…”

  “Oh, Mathew. There’s always a but, isn’t there?” Dory patted his hand. “Let yourself be happy. It’s time don’t you think?”

  He didn’t know what to say to that and even if he did, Matt wasn’t so sure he could have answered. Not out loud anyway. He wasn’t used to his personal shit being discussed by Dory or anyone.

  “If you don’t allow yourself some kind of happiness, you’ll wake up one day, alone with no family, and find yourself as old as me. I don’t want that for you, Mathew. You’re a good man. I think it’s taken you a long time to realize that you’ve always been a good man. It’s just sometimes the goodness gets buried beneath hurt and pain and circumstance. It becomes dark and loses its light. Sometimes it takes something or someone real special to shine it up again.”

  Dory got up from the table and grabbed his empty teacup. “Now. That’s my two cents and I’m not going to say anything more on the subject.” She squeezed his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Other than you should get back to your special someone and spend the day in bed.”

  “Is that an order?” Matt smiled and stood when Dory moved back.

  “Damn right it is. It’s cold and crappy outside.” She winked. “On days like this when my Gilbert was still alive, we wouldn’t leave the bedroom.”

  He leaned down and she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Mathew. I’m sure Luke will run out here if I need anything.”

  Matt highly doubted it, but he wasn’t about to talk smack about her son. “I’m just a phone call away.”

  “I know. Bless your heart.”

  Matt cranked the tunes, his spirits high as he drove home. Thumping his hands on the steering wheel, he sang along to an old Johnny Cash tune and was still singing when he cut the engine and slid from his truck.

  He whistled the tune all the way into his house and once he chucked his boots and coat, he headed to the kitchen where he expected to find Grace. She wasn’t there, but neither was Rosie. Matt moved to the window and leaned against the frame.

  He chuckled when he spied them over near the fire pit. Grace was flat on her back, and Rosie was on top of her, licking and barking excitedly. The dog’s tail wagged crazily and the dog wouldn’t let up with the licking until eventually Grace rolled over and got to her feet.

  He watched Grace and his injured Mama head back to the house. The dog was getting better at maneuvering and she wouldn’t let Grace pick her up. When they came through the front door, he was there to greet Rosie and to plant one hell of a big kiss on the mouth that he’d been thinking of all morning.

  His lips slid along her jaw until he found one of those special spots. He nipped her there, just below her earlobe, and grinned wickedly when she gasped and grabbed his shoulders.

  “Sorry I took so long,” he murmured, going back for another kiss. Already hard, he began to maneuver her toward the stairs when Rosie yelped. Shit. He let go of Grace.

  “Hey, girl. Didn’t mean to step on your tail.�
�

  Grace giggled. “What is it about you and this dog? You can step on her tail and she still looks up at you with love in her eyes.”

  Matt slowly straightened. “I’ve got a way with women.”

  Her eyes flashed and she wrapped her arms around his waist. “You can have your way with this woman, that’s for sure.”

  Matt held Grace for a good long while. He just wasn’t willing to let her go. His hands slid down to her butt and he cupped her intimately against him.

  “Damn, but you feel good,” he murmured. Rosie whined from the back room and he dropped a kiss on Grace’s forehead. “She must want back in with her babies.”

  His hands fell away. “Let me help her and then I plan on getting you naked.”

  Grace followed him back to the great room and he helped Rosie back into her pen. As he settled the dog, it occurred to him that his bedroom was too far away—he didn’t think he could take the extra minute or two until he had her right where he wanted her—namely naked and beneath him.

  He turned to Grace, but she’d wandered over to the island. In her hands she held the note he’d left for her—he liked the way her eyes got all soft as she read it again.

  Suddenly her head shot up, and right away something told him that he wasn’t going to like what was coming his way. Was it the look in her eyes? Possibly. Or was it the way her shoulders hunched, as if she were bracing for something.

  “I almost forgot. A lady came by when you were at Dory’s.”

  His first thought was Sasha, but as Grace picked at the edge of the note with that weird expression on her face, a bad feeling settled in his stomach. Grace could hold her own against someone like Sasha. This was something else entirely.

  “Who?”

  “She said her name was Delilah and that—“

  “What?” He interrupted, thoughts whirling. It wasn’t possible. “Who did you say it was?” Was his voice louder and more intense than he would have liked? Probably. But the fact was, Matt had no idea what he sounded like because as he watched Grace, whatever else she said was lost to the roaring in his ears.

  He gave his head a shake, his gaze glued to her moving lips even though no sound penetrated his ears. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching her but not hearing a damn thing.

  There was nothing except this pressure inside him, a hard, sharp pressure that made it hard to breathe or concentrate. He took a step back and shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled there.

  “Matt!”

  Grace’s voice eventually brought him back. But he couldn’t look at her.

  “You’re sure it was Delilah.” He asked the question carefully and waited for her answer.

  “That’s what she said.” Grace walked over to him. “Who is she?”

  Anger lit up like a spark and he shook his head. “No one,” he barked.

  “No one,” Grace repeated. “You expect me to believe that, that woman is no one to you, when you’re standing in front of me looking as if you’ve just seen a ghost.” Her voice rose sharply and Matt knew that she was pissed.

  Fuck. He didn’t know how to deal with this. He didn’t want to deal with this.

  “I don’t want to discuss Delilah with you.”

  “You don’t want….” Her eyes were wide with disbelief and something else that he didn’t pay attention to. He couldn’t focus on anything other than that one name. Delilah. She wasn’t a ghost. She was a damn demon.

  “Matt, you need to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

  He said nothing, because he had nothing to say.

  “Your hands, the same hands that were just touching me a few minutes ago are clenched into fists. You look angry and…and mean. You’re scaring me, Matt. Who is this woman to you? Why are you reacting like this?”

  He couldn’t deal with this—not right now—not when he could barely think. Matt slowly unclenched his hands and took a few more seconds to get his shit together.

  “Look, Grace,” he managed to say. “I can’t talk about her with you.” No way did Grace and Delilah belong in the same conversation, let alone the same room.

  She took a step back, looking more than a little defeated. Did it make Matt feel like shit? Damn right it did, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. In less time than it took to cross the kitchen and grab a cup from the cupboard, he reverted to the old Matt. The Matt who acted like an asshole. The Matt who didn’t talk.

  That’s what he knew. That’s how he dealt with shit, and Delilah was a can of worms he wasn’t ready to deal with. At least, not just yet.

  “We just spent the entire night making love and you can’t talk to me about some mysterious woman who shows up at your door asking for you?”

  Her cheeks were red, her eyes shiny, and dammit, she looked like she was going to cry. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he go to her?

  She lifted her chin looked him square in the eye. “It’s Thanksgiving in a few days and my family is headed to our lake house in Canada. They want to know if I’m coming. If we’re coming.” She stumbled a bit. “I want us to go together. For Thanksgiving, I mean.”

  “I can’t...” He tried to wrap his head around how quickly his day had gone into the shitter. It had to be some kind of record. And the longer he thought about it, the angrier he got.

  “You want to talk about Thanksgiving right now?”

  “Yes,” she yelled. “I want to talk about Thanksgiving. Right now.”

  Unbelievable.

  “I don’t give a fuck about Thanksgiving or your family’s lake house. Not when I’ve got this to deal with. Getting cozy with your family isn’t exactly in my top-ten list of things to consider over the next few days.”

  “Well that’s good to know,” she snapped. “And for the record, I don’t give a rat’s ass where we spend Thanksgiving. What I do care about is the fact that I don’t know anything about you, Matt. NOTHING.”

  She threw her hands into the air and paced back and forth. “I want to know who Delilah is. I want to know why you’re so upset that she’s here.”

  He tried to get past her, but Grace sidestepped him. “I’m not doing this with you Grace. I can’t. Not now.” He needed to get hold of his anger before he did anything stupid.

  “So you’re not going to tell me who she is.”

  Matt felt as if his back was against the wall and he was shutting down. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “I guess I should just head up north on my own?”

  “If that’s what you want to do.”

  “If that’s what I…” Her voice trailed off and she looked shocked.

  Dammit, he was screwing this up big time, and he had no idea how to fix it. He stared at her for a long time and wished that he had something to say to make her feel better, but he had nothing. All he could think of was Delilah and what it meant that she was back. He scowled at the thought.

  She exhaled and spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Delilah said she was staying at the hotel in town and that she wasn’t leaving until you go to her.”

  His already black mood darkened even more. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this.

  “I guess you should go to her.” Grace left him there, and the squeaks on the stairs told him she’d retreated to his bedroom. For a long time, he stood alone in his kitchen, listening to the wind outside and the yelps of Rosie’s pups.

  And then when the silence stretched thin, like an elastic about to break, he turned and headed for the door. He scooped up his jacket and dug through the pockets for his truck keys.

  No point in putting this off. It was time to pay his stepmother a visit.

  21

  Grace was angry. No. She was beyond angry. She was in another universe entirely—one that made angry look tame. How dare Matt treat her as if she didn’t matter? As if everything they’d shared over the past few weeks meant nothing?

  What did Let’s get to know each other
mean if he shut her out the first time a bump in the road appeared? Nothing. That’s what it meant. Sweet Fuck all.

  “I’m such an idiot.” She tossed her crappy slippers into the bag she’d pulled from Matt’s closet. “Idiot.”

  She scooped up the rest of her clothes—not that there was much—and shoved them inside the bag and then tugged on the zipper to close it. That’s it. She was done.

  Muttering the entire way, she lugged the bag downstairs and then ran back up to grab her toiletries. She’d just cleared the top step when she paused, her anger so great that she shook. She did not want to go back into that room. Did not want to see the unmade bed. Or think about all the things they’d done in there just the night before.

  Screw the toiletries. She didn’t need them. Let Matt deal with her toothpaste and deodorant and hair products. Let him deal with her face cream and body spray. As for the box of tampons she’d left underneath the sink? He could shove them where the sun didn’t shine.

  She checked her watch. It was nearly six o’clock in the evening and he’d been gone for hours. He hadn’t called or sent a text message. He’d gone silent so what the hell was she waiting for?

  Grace ran back down the stairs and headed to the great room. She filled Rosie’s water dish and made sure the dog had enough food to last at least a full day. Better yet, she added a couple more scoops. Who knew when Matt would come back?

  Once she was done, she picked up her favorite little runt and snuggled him against her chest, inhaling that wonderful and unique scent that only a cute, chubby puppy had.

  It did nothing to ease the ache in her chest.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I have to leave you behind with the biggest A-hole in Michigan.” She gave the pup one more kiss and then gently placed him inside the pen. She stood back and nodded to Rosie, who stared up at her with dark eyes and ears pointed forward. “Maybe the world.”

  Rosie tilted her head as if to agree and with a sigh Grace glanced around the empty room. Was she really going to just leave?

  For a moment she was filled with doubt and her gaze drifted to the window. But there was only darkness out there. Darkness and no light, and well, there definitely was no Matt.