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Slowly Matt undid the laces on his boots and shrugged out of his winter gear. Outside the wind still howled, and the snow still fell. It was going to be a long night, he thought, making his way to the back of his house.
Grace was bent over the pen, the smallest pup in her hands, while Dory cooed over Rosie and her babies.
Matt should have been pissed off that his home, his sanctuary, had been invaded. He was a guy who liked solitude. He liked quiet and easy, and Grace Simon was neither one of those things.
And yet it wasn’t anger that coursed through him as he poked about in the kitchen—lit a few more candles and got the chili ready for dinner. He paused, eyes drawn to the other side of the room and something inside him shifted. Grace sat on the sofa beside Dory, listening attentively to whatever it was the older woman was saying. As if she knew, Grace looked up. Their eyes caught and held.
Nope. He wasn’t angry or annoyed or anything like that. For the first time in a long time, Matt Hawkins was content.
Maybe Grace had been right. Maybe this was the end of the world. Or at least, it was the end of the world as he knew it.
9
Matt could charm the panties off a nun. Seriously. There was no question. Dory was clearly under his spell and from what little Grace had seen, the woman was no pushover. Heck, it hadn’t taken him more than an hour to crack through Grace’s cold exterior—all her resolve to remain aloof and uncaring slowly slipped away. She couldn’t help herself. When the man’s guard was down his smile was a thing of beauty, and by the time dinner was over, Grace was craving not only his smile, but a whole lot more.
She watched him, from her perch on the sofa, as he chatted with Dory. They were discussing his award-winning chili (apparently he’d taken first prize at the local fall fair) and Dory was trying to figure out his ‘secret’ ingredient. Gosh. A man who could cook. A man who took in injured dogs. And a man who cared enough about an old woman who lived down the road that he would head out into a blizzard in order to make sure she was all right.
Matt Hawkins was a man of contradictions. He pushed as hard as he pulled and Grace wondered if he’d ever let anyone see what was buried inside him. The things he hinted at. The dark things. The things she wanted to know.
You are in trouble girl.
Her cell phone rang and she fingered the device. It was her mother. With her battery running low and no way to charge it, Grace knew she’d run out of time. Eden DuRocher Simon was going to give her hell. No way around it. She hit the accept button, pressed speaker phone by mistake and was still fiddling with the damn thing when her mother’s voice rang out.
“Grace Bluebell Simon.”
Good Lord. The full name had been used. Bluebell was only pulled out when there was hell to pay. This was not going to be good. Grace sprang to her feet and bolted past Matt and Dory to the front hall where hopefully she would have some bit of privacy.
“Mom.”
“Grace, do you love your mother?”
Wonderful. Her mom was going with the guilt thing.
?
?Mom, please. Let me ex—“
“Because I certainly love all my children even when they make it hard. That is a mother’s cross to bear. Remember when Beau’s appendix burst?”
“What does Beau’s appendix have to do with me?”
“Beau’s appendix has nothing to do with you.”
“Mom have you been drinking?”
“Lord knows you kids could drive anyone to drink, but in answer to your question Grace, no, I haven’t been drinking. I’ve been waiting by the phone for most of the day. Waiting for my daughter to call and let me know that she’s okay. That in fact, even though she’s stuck in the middle of a major blizzard that’s pretty much shut down the entire state of Michigan, she’s doing all right.”
“Mom, I was going to call you. I swear.”
“Let’s get back to Beau’s appendix, shall we?”
Groaning, Grace pressed a hand to her temple and squeezed her eyes shut. Her mother wasn’t letting up and nothing short of a miracle would stop her.
“Your father and I were in the South of France when that happened, enjoying the Côte d'Azur, soaking up the sun, drinking entirely too much wine and eating too many pastries. It was lovely. And it wasn’t until we were getting ready to fly home that I found out my son had been in the hospital and that not only had his appendix burst, but it was serious. He could have died.”
“Mom,” Grace interrupted. Her phone was going to die and she didn’t need a rehash of Beau’s burst appendix. “He didn’t bite the bullet. He was fine.”
“You’re not listening. He could have died. Very easily. It happens all the time.”
