“If all goes well, heading back today with Grace,” I shared. “Her fever broke yesterday. Long as she didn’t go downhill overnight, I’ll bring her back this morning.”
“Good,” he grunted. “We’ll be glad to have her home.”
And that was just it—if only Grace knew, if only she could hear that my men, my family, already considered her one of their own. With everything she was and after how she’d sat next to me, my fierce protector all those weeks, it wasn’t any wonder.
“I’ll keep you posted, but keep everyone back. Knowing my girl, she’s gonna want to be at full capacity before seeing everyone.”
“Got it,” he agreed.
After we hung up, I headed back inside, finding Grace stirring. The color was back on her gorgeous face; the paleness of it when I’d first walked in the day before had nearly sent me to my knees. I never wanted to see that lack of life in her again.
“Hey, baby,” I greeted softly, kneeling at her side of the bed. I’d slept beside her for a time but found myself gravitating toward the chair in the corner where I could get a full view of her.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Hey. What time is it?”
“Just after six.”
Her brow pinched in concern. “Have you slept at all?”
I shrugged. “I’m fine. Was gonna run out for some coffee after you got up.”
She reached out for my arm, pulling me gently toward the bed. “You need to sleep, honey. Come here.”
Despite her fragile state, she was once again determined to take care of me. Though the sensation was still unfamiliar, I accepted it gratefully—it came from her, after all.
“We have all the time in the world,” she murmured as I snuggled against her back, my arm wrapped around her middle.
And despite myself, wrapped in her delicious scent, I fell back asleep.
When I woke again, hours later, it was to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. That stubborn woman was braving the slick tile floor again.
“Christ, babe—are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I demanded when I walked into the steam-filled room moments later.
“Ruston, I know we’re still getting to know each other, but I let this hair air dry last night—if that ever happens again, you’ll know I’m on death’s door, because Grace Jackson doesn’t do air dry,” she explained from behind the curtain.
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” I admitted, leaning against the vanity, ankles crossed.
“All that you need to know is that I’m finally feeling half alive and I’m going to get ready properly. Which means…”
“I have time to kill,” I surmised dryly, a twitch pulling at my lip.
“Exactly,” she replied, poking her gorgeous head out from behind the curtain, a note of amused pride on her face. “See? You’re getting it already.”
“All right, I’ll leave you to it.” I stepped into her space and gave her an all-too-quick kiss. “But do me a favor and don’t send yourself back into a feverish state blow drying, yeah?”
She grinned. “Deal.”
And with that I left her to it, not planning to go far in case she needed me.
By the time she emerged in a billow of steam dressed in denim shorts, boots, and a green tank, her hair dry and makeup on, I’d had more than enough time to check in on the club and take care of some of the things I’d been neglecting in my time away.
But looking at her now, her face and makeup ready for a photo shoot, it was worth it. Not because of how she looked—hell, I thought she was gorgeous no matter what. It was how happy it clearly made her. And happy was all I ever wanted her to be.
And she did look fucking gorgeous.
“You look beautiful,” I murmured, standing from the edge of the bed to pull her close. “Ready for a nap?” I was only slightly teasing, knowing after two days in bed, the last hour getting ready must have taken a lot out of her.
“Worth it.” She shrugged.
