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“Bastard?”
“Pretty sure that’s been used a time or two.”
“Dick—“
“Yeah, okay I get it,” he interrupted.
Grace’s heart was suddenly pounding so hard, she felt it like drum inside her chest. “I don’t think that you do though, Matt. I don’t think you have the slightest clue.” Was she really going to do this right now? Tell him exactly what she was feeling? Even knowing that he could reject her yet again? “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
Guess she was.
“I knew the moment I laid eyes on you at my brother’s wedding, you were special.”
“You’re wrong.” His mouth was tight and he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes, oh those incredible dark eyes, were unreadable. He looked so damn closed off.
“No I’m not.” She shook her head. “I felt something then. I still feel something now. Even after Nashville. Even after you made me feel so small. It’s more than a physical connection, Matt. It has to be to make me this crazy. And I know you feel it too. So why are you pushing me away? Why are you so intent on killing something before it has a chance to grow?”
“Because you and I could never work.”
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes and she swiped at them angrily. “How do you know that? You got a crystal ball or something? Tell me that you don’t feel anything for me. Look me in the eye right now and tell me that you feel nothing.”
He swore. Said a few choice words that would have made a nun’s toes curl. But Grace was riding a train that wouldn’t stop and she ignored him, inhaling a big gulp of air and plunging forward.
“Tell me that the kiss we shared nearly two years ago isn’t something you think about all the time like I do. Tell me that our night in Nashville was just sex. That you didn’t feel the connection that I did. That you didn’t almost cry because you’ve never felt that connected to another human being. Ever. Tell me that and I’ll leave you alone.”
Matt was silent, but he was angry. She felt his anger roll off him and fill the space between them. Those damn tears wouldn’t go away and she sniffled, trying like hell to get her emotions in check. This train was going off the rails and she was about to crash.
Had she got it so wrong?
Suddenly humiliated, Grace whirled around, her only thought to leave. She would have bolted too—ran through the blizzard just to get away from him—but he stopped her cold.
“I can’t,” he said roughly. Two simple words. But they were enough.
8
Matt spent the day avoiding Grace. It was easy to do. The storm had dumped a ton of snow overnight and he spent several hours clearing his driveway, in and around the barn out back, as well as the path up to his house. He’d have to do it again—that was a given—but it kept him busy and he needed to be away from Grace so that he could think.
Not that it had done him a lot of good. In fact, the only conclusion he’d come to was that he was a stupid son-of-a-bitch for letting his guard down with this girl. He knew that he was no good for her—that was the undeniable truth. Because eventually the demons from his past would come back to haunt him—they always did. And when that happened, everything would go to shit. He wasn’t so sure Grace Simon could survive the shrapnel that came with it, and he sure as hell knew she didn’t deserve it.
What the hell had he gotten himself into?
“Dumbass,” he muttered to himself.
It was barely four in the afternoon and what little daylight the storm had allowed was fast disappearing. The wind still blew and the snow still fell, so if it wasn’t for the fact that his neighbor Dory McCallum had called in a panic, he would never have made the trek out to her place. The elderly woman was supposed to be on a plane to Florida, however the storm had not only managed to ground her flight, it had done a number on Dory’s generator.
Matt slid from his snowmobile and waded through snow as high as his waist. He frowned, more than a little annoyed that neither one of Dory’s kids had come for her before things had gotten this bad. He’d have something to say to Luke McCallum the next time he saw him.
He was just about to knock when the door opened and he was greeted by the one woman on this planet (other than Betty) who held a special place in his heart. Dory McCallum was on the wrong side of eighty, barely reached his chest, and though she looked as frail as a woman on the wrong side of eighty would be, nothing could be further from the truth. She was a tough little thing, with a wry wit that made him laugh, and a habit of poking her nose in his business that drove him crazy. She was a straight shooter and he’d always appreciated her honesty. Even when it meant she was being brutally honest with him.
“Mathew. Bless your soul for coming out in this mess of a storm but I didn’t know who else to call.”
Matt headed to the basement where the generator was located and after tinkering with it for nearly twenty minutes, he knew there was nothing he could do. It was an older model and deader than a doornail.
He headed back upstairs and had a look around. Unlike his home the fireplace in the living room was gas, but with no electricity to run the fan the heat was minimal.
Dory had candles lit, which he wasn’t exactly keen on. She had a habit of falling asleep at the drop of a hat, and unattended candles coupled with an old clapboard home wasn’t exactly a safe scenario.
“Well, Mathew?” she asked, pulling food from her fridge.
