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“So?”
She paused for a moment, searching for the right words—the rights words to explain the jumble of emotion inside her. “I feel like I’ve come home. Like this is where I belong.”
Her eyes slammed shut, because all of a sudden she was mortified. Had she just said that out loud? Out loud to a man she barely knew?
Who did that?
“Shit,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I mean I….” What the hell is wrong with me? “I don’t know what I mean.”
She’d just handed Matt the best excuse ever to run away from her as fast as he could. He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t commit. Hell, he didn’t even do baby steps.
“Hey,” he said roughly, hands sliding to either side of her face. He forced her head up. “Hey,” he said again, this time a little louder. “You need to look at me, Grace.”
The expression in his eyes was serious. Dead serious. And her first instinct was to back away. But he wouldn’t let her. He held her with gentle fingers, and bent closer—so close that she could see his long lashes, and that little freckle near his left eye.
So close that her entire body trembled with need. And want. And fear.
“I know what you mean.” He paused, swiping his thumb along her bottom lip. “I feel the same.”
Relief. Oh the relief to hear those words. They almost made Grace cry—and maybe she would have—except their moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, and it definitely wasn’t a female someone.
Grace peered around Matt’s shoulder and spied her brother, Tucker, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. His grin widened when he met her gaze and she narrowed her eyes. She knew that smirk. Something was up.
Matt turned around, though he kept his hand at the small of her back. That simple gesture was worth all the grief she was going to get from her brothers.
Tucker pushed off from the wall and nodded to Matt. “Things are getting ugly in there. The ladies want the wine like yesterday.”
“Right.” Matt glanced down at Grace and winked. “I’ve got a case in my truck.”
“A case?”
“You’ve obviously not partied with the Barker girls.” He grabbed his keys from the front pocket of his jeans, and headed out into the cold, leaving her alone with Tucker.
“Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Just say it.”
He shrugged, a devilish smile lighting up his face. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Bullshit.”
He chuckled at that. “Seriously. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we’re playing volleyball tomorrow. I think we’ll kick butt over the locals. And I see you and Hawkins have something going on. That’s about it.”
Okay. This was not the brother she’d been expecting. Beau would come around—he always did. But Tucker wasn’t that guy. He was more like their mother. He needed convincing. He usually needed a hit over the head.
And he’d already warned her about Matt.
“Come on, everyone’s waiting.” Tucker held out his hand, that smile still firmly in place and when she took it, he pulled her against him for a quick hug. “Have you talked to Mom and Dad lately?”
Okay. That was from leftfield but she was perfectly fine with a change of topic. Anything to take the heat off of her and Matt.
“No. I chatted with Dad briefly on Wednesday about the Christmas gala.” She frowned and looked up at her brother. “I did call the house yesterday and left a message but Mom never called me back. Is everything okay?”
“I think so.” He poked her in the ribs and shrugged. “Guess you can ask them yourself.”
Grace came to a full-on stop and nearly yanked her brother’s arm from his socket while doing so. “What’s that supposed to mean?
The door flew open behind them, bringing with it a gust of wind, Matt, and a case of wine.
“It means that you can ask them yourself. Mom and Dad decided to fly out for the fundraiser.”
