Grace (The Family Simon Book 5) (11 page)

“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

G
race 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 least 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.

“That would be rude,” she managed to say.

“Incredibly rude, but so damn hot.” His mouth nuzzled her neck and everything inside Grace went molten. She sagged against him and the ache between her legs surged when she felt his hardness.

“Keep doing that,” she breathed into him. “And I won’t make it through the next five minutes.”

He chuckled, and nipped at her jaw before, sliding his arms around her in a big hug. The gesture was so normal, so genuine and
easy
, that it brought tears to her eyes and Grace buried her head in his shoulder.

“This feels so…” She didn’t realize that she’d spoken aloud until he spoke.

“So?”

She paused for a moment, searching for the right words—the rights words to explain the jumble of emotion inside her. “I feel like I’ve come home. Like this is where I belong.”

Her eyes slammed shut, because all of a sudden she was mortified. Had she just said that out loud? Out loud to a man she barely knew?

Who did that?

“Shit,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I mean I….”
What the hell is wrong with me?
“I don’t know what I mean.”

She’d just handed Matt the best excuse ever to run away from her as fast as he could. He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t commit. Hell, he didn’t even do baby steps.

“Hey,” he said roughly, hands sliding to either side of her face. He forced her head up. “Hey,” he said again, this time a little louder. “You need to look at me, Grace.”

The expression in his eyes was serious. Dead serious. And her first instinct was to back away. But he wouldn’t let her. He held her with gentle fingers, and bent closer—so close that she could see his long lashes, and that little freckle near his left eye.

So close that her entire body trembled with need. And want. And fear.

“I know what you mean.” He paused, swiping his thumb along her bottom lip. “I feel the same.”

Relief. Oh the relief to hear those words. They almost made Grace cry—and maybe she would have—except their moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, and it definitely wasn’t a female someone.

Grace peered around Matt’s shoulder and spied her brother, Tucker, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. His grin widened when he met her gaze and she narrowed her eyes. She knew that smirk. Something was up.

Matt turned around, though he kept his hand at the small of her back. That simple gesture was worth all the grief she was going to get from her brothers.

Tucker pushed off from the wall and nodded to Matt. “Things are getting ugly in there. The ladies want the wine like yesterday.”

“Right.” Matt glanced down at Grace and winked. “I’ve got a case in my truck.”

“A case?”

“You’ve obviously not partied with the Barker girls.” He grabbed his keys from the front pocket of his jeans, and headed out into the cold, leaving her alone with Tucker.

“Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Just say it.”

He shrugged, a devilish smile lighting up his face. “I’ve got nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.”

He chuckled at that. “Seriously. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we’re playing volleyball tomorrow. I think we’ll kick butt over the locals. And I see you and Hawkins have something going on. That’s about it.”

Okay. This was not the brother she’d been expecting. Beau would come around—he always did. But Tucker wasn’t that guy. He was more like their mother. He needed convincing. He usually needed a hit over the head.

And he’d already warned her about Matt.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting.” Tucker held out his hand, that smile still firmly in place and when she took it, he pulled her against him for a quick hug. “Have you talked to Mom and Dad lately?”

Okay. That was from leftfield but she was perfectly fine with a change of topic. Anything to take the heat off of her and Matt.

“No. I chatted with Dad briefly on Wednesday about the Christmas gala.” She frowned and looked up at her brother. “I did call the house yesterday and left a message but Mom never called me back. Is everything okay?”

“I think so.” He poked her in the ribs and shrugged. “Guess you can ask them yourself.”

Grace came to a full-on stop and nearly yanked her brother’s arm from his socket while doing so. “What’s that supposed to mean?

The door flew open behind them, bringing with it a gust of wind, Matt, and a case of wine.

“It means that you can ask them yourself. Mom and Dad decided to fly out for the fundraiser.”

Her parents. Her overprotective, opinionated, butt-into-your-business parents, were here in Michigan. She glanced over her shoulder at Matt and there went her damn stomach again. He flashed her a quick smile but she ignored it and eyed up the case of wine in his arms. How many bottles were in that case? Six? Eight? Twelve?

Tucker chuckled and pulled her along. “Don’t worry, sis. Dad’s already warned Mom to be on her best behavior.”

“Well that’s good to know.”

“Of course she only listens to Dad when she wants to. So it’s a fifty-fifty shot deal.”

Okay.
One case of wine and an entire evening with her family. No way was that enough alcohol to go around. No way in hell.

14

D
inner was a loud, boisterous affair—not unexpected with all three Barker girls in attendance. And when you tossed in the extended Simon family, it went on for hours.

Herschel Barker’s kitchen skills were legendary around these parts and the meal he orchestrated was a testament to that fact. Dressed in the same white coveralls he’d owned for at least ten years, he took command of the kitchen and barked out orders that his granddaughters were only too happy to follow. Smoked racks of pork and beef covered in a sauce that was a secret family recipe, made for a one-of-a-kind meal and the best damn ribs Matt had ever tasted.

He hid a smile as Herschel called out to one of his ‘twins’ to grab him a shot of Jägermeister. After a bit of back and forth, he was awarded his one and only shot of the night. Some might consider that a loss, but it was enough to keep the old guy happy and animated well into the evening.

Twins
. As long as Matt could remember Herschel had called his triplets that. It was just one more thing that made them a family. One more thing that made them unique. Connected.

He was glad that Betty had found her way back. Because as he watched her settled on her husband Beau’s lap, their son Fitz playing with his cars at their feet, he knew she’d found her slice of happy.

And if anyone deserved it, Betty sure as hell did.

As it had many times over the last few hours, his gaze was drawn to one particular brunette. Grace was deep in conversation with her father, something to do with a chef, a gala, and a menu that sucked. Matt nursed his scotch and watched her. The girl was a hand-talker. She was about as animated as you could get and he loved that her father had just taken a step back, as if worried she might let a fist fly.

She could hold her own with anyone.

His gaze swung to her brother, Tucker. He didn’t get that about his sister. Oh, he’d been polite enough, but Matt knew the guy was worried about him and his sister. Probably thought he wasn’t good enough for Grace.

Matt finished his scotch and set the empty glass on the table beside him. If he was Tucker Simon, he’d probably feel the same so he couldn’t fault the guy for being a bit of a dick. He stood and glanced around the room, taking in the myriad conversations, the loving touches, the secretive looks, and the shared jokes. These people loved each other fiercely, in a way he’d never experienced. His family life had been hell.

He glanced back at Grace and wondered what that would feel like—to have someone know what you were going to say before you thought it. Or as Betty had said, to have someone willing to die for you.

Startled at his train of thoughts, Matt gave himself a mental shake. The Barkers and the Simons were too damn loud. Too damn happy. A guy like him could only take so much.

He slipped out of the front room and headed toward the back porch, grabbing his jacket from the front hall along the way. The wind had died down and the night sky was full of stars. He leaned against the railing, shoved his hands into his coat pockets, and enjoyed the view and the quiet. Nothing like looking up at a big sky to make a person feel small. To make a person remember another night sky, and another porch, and a night when everything changed.