Grace (The Family Simon Book 5) (6 page)

“I’m looking at you.”

Her eyes widened a bit and dammit, there she went again, licking those pillow-soft lips of hers. How the hell was he supposed to keep his hands off of her when she did that?

Matt took another draw on his longneck and shoved his other hand into the front pocket of his jeans.

“So what’s with Josh Hayden?” he asked, changing the subject and effectively killing the start of whatever the hell was itching to start.

She set her beer down beside the sink. “He’s here for the fundraiser of course. Tucker was supposed to accompany him, but something came up and Tuck asked me to come instead.”

“That your job? Professional babysitter?”

“I’m just doing my brother a favor.”

“The kid’s a tool. He’s been in and out of trouble with the cops since he was fifteen and he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He’ll screw up. His kind always does.”

She pushed off from the counter, a small frown on her face. “Why would you say that? You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him, to know what I know. It’s like looking in a mirror.”

“Why do you do that?” she asked, voice sharp. “Why do you want me to think that you’re this awful person? A guy who doesn’t care? A guy who…” Her cheeks deepened even more as she stumbled over her words. “A guy who would screw a woman like no tomorrow even though she came into the bar with another man.” She paused. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“Sounds about right.” He scowled. Never should have brought her out here.

“You’re so full of it.”

“I’m just keeping it real, Grace. You need to know what I am.”

She bit that damn bottom lip of hers—probably did it on purpose because she had to know it would drive any man crazy—and then took a step forward. She was breathing in short, staccato bursts, and that mouth of hers was parted as if she was baiting him to taste her.

“I call bullshit.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

Grace made a strangled sound and it took everything in Matt to keep his hands off of her. “You want to know what I think?”

“Does it matter if I say no?”

A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I think that you’re hiding behind a mask of ugly. One that you’ve taken years to cultivate.” She angled her head and those eyes of hers never left him. “If I had to guess, I’d say probably since you were a young man. Maybe even a young boy.”

She inched forward and placed her hands on his chest. He should have moved back but something kept him rooted to the spot. Every muscle in Matt’s body tightened, and he ached from the raw need that rose up in him.

It had been a while, he thought. That’s all. He just needed to get laid.

Startled, he suddenly realized that the last woman he’d been with was standing right in front of him. He didn’t get a chance to think on it, because she thumped him in the chest with her forefinger.

“You want people to think you don’t care about anyone or anything. That’s why you have sex with women and then toss them aside like yesterday’s garbage. Not because you’re a bad man—that would be the easy explanation. A bad man doesn’t rescue an animal from the side of the road and bring that animal into his house to give birth. A bad man doesn’t walk his best friend down the aisle and then toast her with words that left tears in my eyes. A bad man doesn’t kiss the way you do because a bad man has no feelings.”

She swallowed and exhaled, her hands still planted on his chest. “I
feel
you, Matt. I know there’s something more inside and I want to know what that something is. I want to know everything.”

Matt stared down into her eyes for so long that his vision blurred. Until that familiar feeling of disgust and self-loathing seeped into him. He welcomed it like an old friend because that’s what he knew.

He stepped away from Grace before tossing his empty beer into the bin beneath the sink.

“You’ll have to spend the night. The roads aren’t safe. I’m going to sleep down here with Rosie. You can take my room. It’s the first door on your right at the top of the stairs.”

He moved past her without another word, and after checking on Rosie and her pups, turned to the sofa on the other side of the fireplace. He heard the squeak on the bottom step that led upstairs.

He tugged off his shirt and tossed it before flopping onto the sofa, grateful for the silence. She was gone. Silence was good. Silence was what he was used to.

So why did it feel so wrong?

7

G
race woke up to AC/DC and “Hells Bells.”

What the…

Slowly her eyes opened and she groaned, reaching around to rub at the kink in her neck. She frowned as the iconic clanging of bells kept ringing. And ringing.
And ringing.

It took a few moments for the fog to lift but eventually she realized that in fact it was her cell phone, and the damn thing was on the other side of the room.

The room.
Funny. She was sleeping in Matt’s bed. In his bedroom. Her body snuggled in his sheets. She buried her head in his pillow. God, she could still smell him. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished that the dull ache in her chest would go away. But it was there. Had been since the night before when Matt had shut down and basically told her to go away.

How ‘effing embarrassing.

AC/DC agreed and “Hell’s Bells” rang out once more.

Grace rolled out of bed and stumbled to her jacket, grabbing up the phone as she pushed a tangled mess of hair from her eyes and walked to the window. Cold. It was so damn cold. Shivering, she gazed out at impressive snowdrifts that clung to everything in sight. Gray skies accented the dull pallet, and a strong wind rattled the window.

She glanced at the missed calls and frowned. Tucker. Not in the mood to talk to anyone just yet, she decided to call him back later. There were also two text messages from Josh. The first one wondered where the hell she was, obviously sent before she’d messaged him the night before, and the second—she smiled and scrolled over the message—the second was a promise to behave himself, but only if she got lucky.

“Fat chance of that,” she muttered, cheeks heating up at how she’d been dismissed. She tossed her cell back at her jacket and glanced around the room, getting her first good look at Matt’s private space. When she’d come up the night before, the light had flickered and then went out.

The hardwood floors had obviously been redone, and the walls were painted a tasteful cream. His furniture was simple, an oak sleigh bed, with a matching armoire, and a deep leather chair next to a fireplace in the corner. A chest of drawers was tucked beneath a second window and other than a few area rugs, there was not much else. Nothing to show her what Matt Hawkins was all about. No personal effects, no pictures…nothing.

She crossed the room and after a quick glance around, mostly because she was being sneaky and that’s what sneaky people did, she opened his armoire. Sweaters, jeans, and T-shirts were arranged in neatly folded piles but again, nothing personal could be seen.

Carefully, she closed the door and turned in a full circle, spying another door to her right. She crossed the room and opened it, happy to find a bathroom where she could clean up. It hadn’t been updated as of yet and the linoleum was curling in the corners, while peeling wallpaper adorned the walls. The pattern, small rosettes and sprigs of greenery, didn’t exactly scream masculinity, and she smiled a bit, picturing Matt in here going about his business.

A large bathtub stood in the corner, its claw legs a throwback to a much earlier time. There was no shower, although she supposed he must use the long showerhead that hung from the wall.

She glanced in the mirror and sighed. Her hair was a mess and after a quick search through her jeans pockets, she found an elastic. She secured the wild waves in a loose knot at her neck and then splashed water on her face. There was only one toothbrush so she was forced to use her fingers to clean her teeth.

That should do it, she thought, satisfied that she didn’t look like she’d just rolled out of bed. (If you didn’t count the rat’s nest at the back of her head and her wrinkled clothes.) After hesitating for a second or two, she grabbed Matt’s deodorant. It wasn’t overly masculine, sporting a clean, crisp scent that suited him. With one last glance in the mirror Grace headed for the stairs, though she paused at the top. The house was silent and, suddenly nervous, she hesitated. She had no idea which Matt would greet her. The charming hot guy, the brooding hot guy, or the closed-off hot guy.

“God, don’t be such a baby,” she whispered.

On sock feet, Grace crept down the stairs and made her way to the back of the house. It was on the dark side—no lights were lit—but her eyes adjusted and, well, thank the Lord for that.

Matt was shirtless with bare feet, his jeans riding so low on his hips that she was pretty sure they were undone. Mouth dry she couldn’t take her eyes from him, and her cheeks heated as she fought the images she had tucked away. Images of him naked. Behind her. Inside her. Muscles straining. Skin glistening.

He stood near Rosie’s pen, cradling one of her pups in his arms, and though she couldn’t hear him, he was talking real low. The tone was intimate and the sight of him practically naked, those impressive shoulders of his hunched protectively over a fragile puppy made her heart pick up. Her chest tightened, a lump formed, and the yearning that washed over her wasn’t simple or small or anything that didn’t scream complicated.

She wanted him. Plain and simple. But how much rejection could she take?

Determined to start the day over with a clean slate, Grace exhaled and decided to concentrate on something other than the very sexy and very complicated Mr. Matt Hawkins.

Puppies.
Concentrate on the puppies.

The little bundle in his arms squirmed and made the sweetest noises. She remembered this particular pup from the night before. Rosie’s babies were all black except the smallest, which sported white spots along the back end and a pure white nose to offset a midnight face.

Matt nuzzled the little guy and Grace’s heart filled up watching him. She thought of how swiftly he’d turned to stone the night before. Of how he was so desperately trying to push her away when all along she knew he felt the pull as strongly as she did.

Bad guy my ass, she thought taking a step forward and whacking her knee against a small side table.

Matt glanced over his shoulder and she offered a tentative smile and a small wave. “How did Rosie make out?” she asked, moving closer so that she could have a look herself. The dog was asleep, as were all of her babies, nestled up against her body for comfort and warmth.

“She did good,” Matt replied, placing the puppy among its littermates. “How did you sleep?”

“Your bed is…well, there’s a lot of room and the mattress is firm and…” Darn she was mumbling like an idiot. “I slept like a baby.”

Matt was silent for a few moments, though his eyes never left hers. “The storm isn’t letting up until Monday. Looks like we’re stuck here at least until then.”

Grace glanced out the window. She knew it looked bad out there but…

Panic set in.

“Monday? I can’t leave until Monday?” How in hell was she going to survive in such close quarters with Matt when all she wanted to do was rip those jeans off and have her way with him?

“Nope. All roads have been closed. Even the road crews are grounded.”

“Oh.” Grace frowned. “How did we not know this was headed our way? I mean, I knew they were calling for snow, but a blizzard?”

Matt shrugged and hiked up his zipper. He grabbed his shirt from the sofa. “It wasn’t supposed to be this bad. The storm picked up strength overnight. Happens a lot out here.”

“What about Betty? Wasn’t she flying in with Fitz this morning?”

Matt moved past her into the kitchen. “Not anymore. I already talked to her. She’s staying put in Florida until this storm blows over. They’re probably going to reschedule the fundraiser to next weekend.” He paused and arched an eyebrow. “Your brother Tucker wants you to check in with him as soon as you can.”

Crap. “He talked to you?” She thought of the missed calls on her phone.

“Not me personally, but apparently he gave it to Betty real good. He called the hotel as soon as he found out how bad the storm was and when he learned that you hadn’t checked in, he had a little convo with Hayden. Apparently your little boy toy told him that you’d gone home with some guy named Matt and he blew a gasket.”

Annoyed, Grace frowned. “Josh Hayden isn’t my boy toy.”

Matt leaned against the countertop, still barefoot, still shirtless, and still sexy as hell. He needed a shave and Lord but his hair was a mess, and yet something about this side of him, this at-home, intimate, and comfortable side of him—made her girlie parts roar to life.

“Didn’t think so.”

“Then why say it?”

He smiled—a full-on, sexy-as-hell smile. “Because when you get pissed off your cheeks turn this shade of red that I like, and your nose scrunches up a certain way that’s kind of cute.”

“Glad to know I’m so damn amusing.” His house might be cold as hell but her temperature was rising.

“You just did it again.”

“What?” she snapped.

“Scrunched up your nose.”

“Why don’t you put a shirt on?” Wow. Grace inwardly cringed. Great comeback.

The smile on Matt’s face didn’t go away, not even when he tugged the Henley he’d been wearing the night before over his head. He pulled it down slowly, his smile fading as the two of them stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time. He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.

“You should talk to your brother. He has a right to be concerned.”

“So he knows I’m here,” she replied slowly. “With you.”

“He does and he’s not happy about it. Told Betty that if I laid a hand on you, he was going to personally rearrange my face.”

“As if I’d let that happen.”

“What exactly would
that
be? The laying of the hands or the rearranging of my face?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours ruined, now would I?” she quipped lightly, reaching for the fridge.