Page 8 of His Saving Grace

Grace picked up the salad bowl. Tank scrambled to her feet and followed Grace. Grace placed the bowl of salad in the center of the table and then turned to leave.

Eloise placed a hand on Grace’s arm. “Please, join us.”

Grace didn’t have the heart to say no, even though the thought scared the hell out of her. She’d tried to stay out of everybody’s way over the last few weeks. Keeping to herself meant no one asked questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. It had been difficult, because everyone was so nice. Under other circumstances, they all could have been friends. Too bad it was impossible.

She nodded, and then realized the only free seat was the one next to Mason. Great, this should be fun. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her shoulders back. She could do this. Even though he intimidated the hell out of her.

“Go.” Mason barked the command, pointing at the door Owen had disappeared through.

Grace’s stomach clenched so hard she was afraid she might be sick. Had he seriously just said that? Her mouth dropped open, and she wanted to say something, defend herself at the very least, but words the fizzed out of existence. She lifted her hand, her fingers fluttering against her chest. Should she leave? She should leave. Just turn around and go, like she’d wanted to in the first place. Too bad her feet refused to cooperate. They kept her planted next to the table.

She glanced around the room. No one else seemed to be the least bit phased by Mason’s behavior. They all continued to get the table ready for the evening meal. Was he always such an asshole? Were they just used to it and brushed it off as typical Mason assholishness?

“I’m sorry?” The shakiness of her voice annoyed her.

Mason stood and took a step toward her, and she shuffled back a step. He stopped, his indifferent look falling away. His forehead scrunched, and he cocked his head. “Did you think I was talking to you?”

Grace swallowed, not sure how to answer. Who else would he be talking to? Tank whined beside her and the pieces came crashing into place. Of course, he was talking to the dog. Heat crawled up her chest and neck to pulse in her cheeks. She ducked her head.

You’re an idiot of the highest order. Why would you think he was talking to you like that? Maybe because he wouldn’t be the first?

No, no, no. She refused to go there. That was the past and she would not think about it. She was not that person anymore.

“I said, go lay down.”

The dog planted her butt on the floor. She looked up at Grace, then at Mason and finally at Jake, who sat at the table, trying to pretend he couldn’t hear the conversation.

“Tank, I said go.” This time there was an edge to Mason’s words, the kind that could only come from someone used to not only commanding others, but who didn’t tolerate insubordination. The Major was making an appearance.

Tank, realizing this was a battle she wouldn’t win, dropped her head and plodded toward the kitchen door. She stopped on the threshold and looked back. Mason pointed at the doorway. She swung her head around and disappeared into the hallway.

Mason turned back around and dropped into his chair. “That’s why I don’t want you feeding my dog at the table.”

Jake reached for a sandwich. “Technically, I wasn’t at the table.”

Mason opened his mouth to argue, but Eloise jumped in instead. “Jake, you know what Mason means and since Tank—” she said the dog’s name with a hint of bewilderment— “is his, we need to respect his wishes. No feeding the dog in the kitchen.” She made a show of placing her napkin in her lap. “Now, Grace, please have a seat and we’ll eat.”

With no way out, Grace made her way around the table and sat down in the empty seat next to Mason. Her arm brushed against his and he stiffened slightly. She yanked it away from him, a complete overreaction that sent her hand smacking the table hard enough to make the place settings rattle.

Heat bloomed in her chest, climbed into her cheeks. She kept her gaze down and took a deep breath, trying to find her center. Or at least calm her galloping heart. It didn’t help. Mason smelled like soap and something spicy, and part of her wanted to lean into him and just breathe him in. Which was the stupidest response in the entire history of the world.

He leaned toward her, and panic raced up her spine. The urge to lean in the opposite direction warred with the need to lean into his heat. Instead, she sat there like a lump.

“I’m sorry about what happened outside.” He kept his voice low, the words just between the two of them. Goosebumps spread across her shoulders, and she held back a shiver.

She must have looked stunned or confused or something, because his gaze flicked over her face and he cocked his head. “About giving you the third degree, I mean.”

She swallowed, her throat suddenly as dry as the dusty driveway outside. “It’s fine.” Her voice came out weak and whispery. Not exceptionally convincing.

Not that she needed to convince him of anything. She was being ridiculous. Letting him affect her like this was giving him the power. And she was done giving away so much.

She turned her focus forward, to the upcoming meal. Not that she’d be able to eat anything. Her stomach was currently so knotted up, it would easily be at home in a pretzel factory.

“So, how long are you staying?”

At Declan’s question, the knots in Grace’s stomach clenched tighter, sending pressure crawling upward to pulse in her throat.

Crap, crap, crap. How on earth could she answer that? Until I save enough money to…to what? Run so far away that no one will be able to find me? Maybe she could pretend she didn’t hear the question.