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“Are you telling me I’ll never be able to have kids? Isn’t there some sort of surgery or something?”
The doctor shook his head, his face kind and gentle. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. The tear in your uterus will just make you a higher risk for miscarriage. With proper care there’s every possibility for you to have plenty of healthy children.”
Grace slumped against the back of the bed. “No airbags. I shouldn’t have insisted on that stupid car. At the time it seemed cooler than some dumb, four-door sedan.”
“True the airbags would have prevented this type of injury, but the truth is that muscle car probably saved your life, Grace. Cars were built a lot more solid back in the seventies. That tank of a car you were driving protected you.”
She was glad to hear that, at least, though she thought the doctor was probably just trying to make her feel like less of an idiot. She’d been in the hospital for a week while the doctors ran their tests and took way too many vials of blood and basically drove her up the freaking wall. She thought all the hoopla was just nonsense. She felt fine, other than some muscle ache and the annoying cast on her leg. Then again, she never expected to hear the news that the trauma she’d suffered to her abdomen would somehow be permanent. Bruises, nothing more. Those hopes were dashed now. The news left her numb. She hadn’t really thought a lot about having kids, what nineteen-year-old college freshman did? Still she hadn’t expected the good doc to tell her about a tear in her uterus. Sometimes life had a way of really sucking.
Two Years Later
“You sure you won’t play at least one more game? I’ll be easy on you.”
Blade laughed and swiped at the sweat on his brow. “That competitive streak is going to get you in a world of trouble one of these days, Jackson.”
Grace watched her cousin and one of Merrick’s employees play a game of HORSE. She’d never seen anyone smoke Blade in basketball before. She eyed the newcomer, noting the tall frame and muscular body clad in nothing but a pair of khaki shorts. He’d taken off his shirt and currently used it as a sweat rag. He looked delicious. She wouldn’t mind being the sweat rag. Sliding over his chest and rock hard abs would be a delight.
“My competitive streak is nothing compared to yours. We both know I never would have gotten you to agree to three games if you hadn’t wanted to beat me so much.”
Blade guzzled his bottled water and swiped his hand over his mouth. “I figure someone needs to put you in your place. Might as well be me.”
“Yeah, too bad it didn’t work for you.” Jackson dribbled the ball a few times before throwing it in the vicinity of the basket.
Grace concentrated was on the way Jackson sucked down his own bottle of water. Geez, even that normal act seemed sexy as hell. Then it hit her. Literally. She’d been balanced on the edge of the rail of the porch. The momentum behind the ball knocked her off her precarious perch, and she fell right on her ass. Had she been paying any attention to the ball, she would have noticed it coming straight at her.
“Shit,” she mumbled.
Blade and Jackson both rushed to her side. Blade helped her up, concern on his face. “You okay, brat?”
She didn’t want to look at Jackson. She already felt like the biggest fool. “Fine, just bruised my ego a bit, I think.”
“Sorry about that,” Jackson said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
She made a point of brushing off her jean shorts. “No big. I’ve taken worse playing football with this slug.” She pointed to Blade.
When she finally allowed herself to glance over at Jackson, she knew two things. One, he was way more of a hunk close up. Two, he was going to be really hard to ignore now that she’d gotten a good healthy look at him.
Jackson held out his hand. “Jackson Hill. I work for Merrick.”
Grace took it and smiled. “I know who you are. I’m Grace Vaughn, the annoying younger cousin.”
“And I’m out of here,” Blade grumbled. “I need to find some air conditioning.”
“You’re getting old and soft. Better watch it, I think I see a pot belly in your future,” she teased Blade, though it was the furthest thing from the truth. Blade was all muscle. She secretly thought fat cells were merely too afraid to venture anywhere near him.
“You like to play with fire, don’t you, Gracie?”
Oh, hell, he had a really nice voice. Deep, mysterious, full of wicked promise. “It’s Grace, and Blade’s a big boy, he can handle some razzing.”
“I agree,” he murmured. He fell silent, staring at her as if imagining things. Naughty things. Grace had the urge to yank at the hem of her black tank top to cover her exposed abdomen. The tank and shorts had seemed like a good idea for a hot July family get together. The way Jackson licked his lips and kept glancing at her belly and legs made her wish she’d worn a sweatshirt and jeans.
“I’ve never seen you at one of the Vaughn picnics,” she said in an attempt at normalcy. “Why is that?”
He sat on the edge of the porch and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t invited until now. Merrick and I have gotten to be pretty good friends, though.”
“Golf?”
