Grace (The Family Simon Book 5) (17 page)

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

G
race 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.

There was no reason to stay.

She rummaged through her purse and grabbed up her cellphone. But nothing had changed since she’d checked. No missed call. No text message. Just nothing.

“Okay, then.”

What was her plan exactly? She searched on her phone and found Bud’s Taxi Service. Bud himself answered. He informed her that he was all the town had tonight, as his only other employee, his son, Bud Jr. was down with the flu. So no, he couldn’t drive her to the city where the airport was located, but he could certainly come get her from Matt’s and get her back to town. Oh and she’d have at least an hour wait for that.

Apparently nothing was going her way.

With no choice, Grace arranged for a car service to drive out from Detroit. That was the good news. The bad news was that she had a few hours to kill before the limo got to New Waterford.

Bud made it out about forty-five minutes later and Grace had him drop her at the Roadside Grill. She had no other place to go really, and after eating nothing but the few slices of apple at breakfast, she was not exactly hungry, but knew that she should eat.

The place was busy, with a thirty-minute wait for a table, so Grace opted to sit at the bar. Aware of the many eyes on her, she kept her head down and took the last stool in the far corner.

“Would you like a menu?” It was the man she remembered from when she’d been in before.

“Yes, please.” Mustache guy nodded and grabbed one from under the bar.

“Anything to drink?” he asked, throwing a towel over his shoulder and offering up a kind smile.

He was big, muscular and burly, and not really what you’d expect a bartender to look like in a place like this—a biker bar maybe, but not a roadhouse style eatery.

“Sure,” she replied. She wasn’t driving so what the hell. “Surprise me.”

“Surprise you,” he repeated. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Grace turned slightly so that she faced the window and could ignore the curious looks thrown her way from the main room of the bar. She took a few minutes to study the menu and found that it was surprisingly varied—from salmon and steak to burgers and deep fried pickles. The only problem was that nothing stood out to her, and she was going to assume it had more to do with the state of her head than the fact that she wasn’t all that hungry.

The bartender approached and she glanced up with a shrug. “Can you recommend something? I’m not sure what to order.”

He placed a cocktail in front of her and frowned. “Seems you’re not sure about much tonight.”

He was right on the money. “And that’s why I have you helping me out.” Grace grabbed her drink and took a sip, surprised at the sweet and tangy taste. “This is good. What is it?”

“Family secret I’m afraid.”

“Just my luck.”

“I’m Duke by the way. I own this place.”

Now it made sense. Biker guy wasn’t really a biker guy after all.

“Grace.”

“I know.” But that shouldn’t surprise her, should it? It was a small community and it wasn’t as if any of the Simons were exactly low profile—even when they tried to be. Heck, everyone in the damn place probably knew who she was and where she’d been spending her time.

Just thinking of Matt made her stomach churn and she reached for her glass. She needed a distraction.

“He’s a tough nut to crack,” Duke said slowly.

She took another sip. “Malibu rum?”

He shook his head. “Nice try though.” He paused. “You okay?”