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The hair on the back of my neck stands at his question. This is where there’s a fine line between being my brother and being my lawyer. He’s programmed to go into protection mode. I’d bet he’s ready to run a total background check on her now that he knows where she works. He’d likely request her and Logan’s business permits and tax records to build an entire profile on her life the last few years.
Remembering the small amount of time I spent with Grace, she was a bit shy. She deserves her privacy.
“No, I’m going into this blind. Let me talk to her. Like I said, she may not even remember me.”
“Okay, Nick, I’ll put my agent role on hold for now. As your big brother, though, I’m going to tell you something. This woman made an impression on you that obviously stuck. I’d bet you did the same to her. Good luck.”
We hang up, and I drop back to the sofa, opening the iPad again. Pathetically, I read the bio three more times before doing a search to find anything I can on Monroe Gallery.
Then I start the countdown of the hours before I see Grace again… and can find out exactly what happened to her.
Chapter 3
Grace
There’s an unusual buzz in the air as I walk around the gallery to ensure everything is perfectly in place. Logan is impeccable in his business and development sense, but when it comes to the actual art, he lacks the fine-tuning skills for display.
For example, he’s placed one of our new glass-blown vases in the corner where its beauty isn’t portrayed as it could be. I shake my head as I find a more appropriate spot for it in the middle of the storefront window where the colors sparkle in the natural sunlight.
One day, I’m going to design extravagant pieces like this and sell them all over the world.
As each day passes, it seems everything is falling into place. Art isn’t only a passion of mine; it’s a piece of me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to create beautiful things. It’s hard to explain to people, but I think my family finally understands it’s what makes me truly tick. It brings me happiness, and most of all, Logan is one hundred percent on board. No longer is he teasing me about being a dreamer; he’s now helping me make these dreams come true.
I do one more inspection of the front room before going to get ready for my appointment. Logan said this could be a big time client who has several interests in both finding pieces for his home and his office. I don’t know much more except he must have money because Logan insisted that I needed to ‘be ready for anything’.
Usually, I’m a tad bit nervous with client meetings, but this morning, the butterflies are in overdrive as I check my hair and makeup one more time in the small bathroom.
The soft sound of the wind chimes I hung out front indicate someone’s here.
I smooth my sundress once more and plaster on a smile, ready to impress this client.
“Welcome to Monroe Gallery.” I walk to the front room and stop dead in my tracks, the rest of my words dying in my mouth.
Nicolas Bennett is standing in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets with his signature boyish grin. Seeing him the other night from a distance didn’t do him justice. Now, being this close, it all comes rushing back.
Slight stubble covers his face, but I can still make out the small dimple in his cheek and cleft in his chin. He’s even more handsome than I remembered. His eyes meet mine, and I suck in a deep breath. The look triggers a memory, his blue-green eyes shining so brightly they glow.
“Nick…”
“Grace.” My name on his lips sounds the same as the millions of times I’ve played it over and over in my head.
To this day, I still have his messages saved from when I left school without an explanation. The thought sends a burning pain to my chest, and I bite my tongue to try to keep my emotions under control.
He sees it, his eyes flaring as he takes a step toward me, his hands coming out of his pockets. Without thinking, I rush to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders and hugging him.
His arms wrap tightly around my waist, and his head sinks into my neck. “God, Grace, it’s so good to see you.”
“You too,” I mumble into his shirt and inhale. Cologne, laundry detergent, and something new. Something even more masculine.
He keeps me close, as if knowing I need a second to compose myself. When I know I’m not going to cry, I step back and drop my arms to my sides.
“This is a surprise.” I try to hide the tremble in my voice.
“A good surprise, I hope,” he says softly.
“Of course, it’s a good surprise,” I rush to say then remember my appointment. “But I have an appointment showing up any minute.”
His grin grows wide, making my heart flutter again. “I’m already here.”
