“The other catalogs have the same methodology.” Pride shone in his eyes, but he gave a nonchalant shrug. “Too much time on my hands, obviously.”
“I can relate.” On the difficult evenings after the divorce, she’d thrown herself into her work, creating the most ridiculous extra projects to keep her mind occupied.
“Want me to stay up with you and pick? It’ll go quicker, and I can place the order electronically tonight.”
“You need your rest. You can check it in the morning.” Though she’d much rather have his help.
“I’ve been lying around since I fell this morning. I’m really not tired.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Little lady, I could talk about remodeling all night.” He performed a nice impression of Mac, pulling a chuckle from Grace.
“That’s a few hours longer than I had in mind.” She stacked several of the heavy catalogs with the yellow dots marking them in her arms. “After you.” She motioned with her head toward the couch. The top book slipped, but she caught it at the last second. “Oh, fiddlesticks! I almost hit your foot.”
“But you didn’t.” His tone was soothing. “Are you making fun of my grandpa’s favorite word again?” This time he winked, blasting off bottle rockets in her chest.
“Not deliberately.” She nodded toward the couch. “I’ll give you a head start to get settled before I lug this over, just to be on the safe side.” Maybe one book at a time to cool her scorching cheeks.
An hour later, Seth had guided her through what would be needed, and Grace had a completed list. Every choice had been simple with his expert knowledge and patient explanations. She’d heard projects like this one had people tearing out their hair, but she’d actually had fun. Of course, it was Brooklyn’s money they were spending.
“I wish I could help you put these catalogs away.” Seth’s gaze traveled her face, lingering on her lips. “But I know you won’t let me.”
Grace swallowed hard at the thickness in her throat. “You’d be correct.”
“Are you sure you won’t take a room upstairs? That couch can be hard on the back.”
“I’m made of rubber and springs, remember?” She forced a smile. “Get some rest, but yell if you need me.”
“I’ll holler really loud, sugar.” This time he sounded a lot like Darlene.
“I’m serious, Seth.”
“I know. Good night, Grace.”
The tenderness of his voice tugged at her emotions. There might not be an easy night’s sleep here, either, and not just because she’d be listening for his call.
MORNING LIGHT CREPT in through the windows facing the Gulf. Grace stretched her arms and legs then swung off the couch. The night on the sofa hadn’t been bad at all—other than the amazing kiss that kept tiptoeing into her mind. Okay, maybe stomping into her mind. That moment seemed to be a stubborn thought attempting to brand itself front and center. And she needed to erase it.
Grace positioned into a few of the Pilates poses she’d learned. The positions helped her focus, and she often prayed through them. Taking the classes had been another attempt to correct her balance issues. Ballet, barre, Christian yoga, CrossFit...they hadn’t alleviated the problem, but she’d enjoyed the exercise. Except for that foray into Zumba, though. She still cringed about that mishap.
Body awake, she made her way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. After reading countless health articles before she went to sleep, she’d come up with a list of healing foods for Seth to eat. Now, to figure out what he had in his kitchen and what she’d need to pick up at the store. Stealthily as possible, she opened his cabinets and refrigerator making a list on her phone of the needed items. Mentally, she noted what he had so she could make a healthy breakfast. She’d do her best to look after him. It would be nice to have a guy friend in Atlanta to hang out with when they went back, if nothing else.
NINE A.M. ALREADY? Seth stared at his phone. Despite the broken foot, he’d slept soundly. No nightmares—that he remembered, and Grace hadn’t run into the room for anything, so all seemed well. He brushed his teeth and ran his fingers through his hair. The aroma of home-cooking, maybe sausage, led him to the kitchen, taste buds clamoring to find the source.
“I could get used to this.” Leaning against his crutches, he took in the spread Grace had going on the stove.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you get up.” That perky smile met him like a warm embrace. “And I was listening. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I didn’t hear a thing, but that mouthwatering smell hit me as soon as I hobbled out of the bedroom. What have we here?”
“After you went to bed, I researched foods that help heal the bones. I hope you don’t mind, but I searched your cabinets and refrigerator to see what you had. I made a list for us.”
He sure liked the sound of that. Us. The two-letter word hammered against his resolve to keep his emotions in check.
As if trying to justify her kitchen takeover, she motioned wildly around the room with a spatula. “I came up with an egg casserole, hash browns, pumpkin-banana-nut muffins, and frozen berries with yogurt.”
She set aside the spatula, put on an oven mitt, and opened the stove. A glass dish held egg casserole, which looked to have sausage and maybe green chilies in it, almost capturing his attention as much as the adorable cook.
She pulled the steaming creation out and set it on the stove with the other bowls and pans. Then she smiled and tucked a wayward strand of honey-brown hair behind her ear. Definitely more interesting than the casserole.
“You have a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen.”
“I try.” Patting his stomach, he attempted to make the food the focal point of the conversation and his attention. “A man’s gotta eat. My mom insisted we learn to cook. With four boys, she couldn’t keep up with our appetites.”
“Wow, I bet she would’ve been run ragged if she’d tried.” Empty plates waited on the countertop, and Grace held one out. Her blue gaze met his. “What will you have?”
Oh, if only things were different.
Warning bells alarmed in his head. He had to stop this fantasy, because nothing had changed. Their paths couldn’t converge. “Two helpings of each. Everything looks amazing.”
Once she had both dishes served, she insisted he sit at the couch, elevate his foot, and let her bring him a tray. He complied. Most meals, he ate in the living room anyway. Nothing new. Nothing that was about to change.
They’d only taken a couple of bites when the doorbell rang. Grace set aside her food. “Do you think it’s Mac?”
Seth swallowed a gulp of the delicious eggs topped with a dab of salsa. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
“I’ll check it out.” She flitted off to answer the door.
Wide-eyed, Grace returned with a woman behind her. Wearing a bright red business suit and three-inch pumps to match, the attractive blond real estate agent stood out like a beacon in the room of mostly cool, natural colors.
He hadn’t seen that one coming. Seth pressed three fingers to his forehead. “Susan, I forgot about our meeting.” He never expected her to show up at his house. He didn’t remember giving her his address when they’d met at the architectural advisory meeting, but a real estate agent could have easily searched it out.
“I was worried you’d forgotten, so I decided to come find you.” A flirty gaze lifted her sculptured brows. “I’m sorry you broke your foot. Anything I can do?”
“Grace is taking good care of me.” He directed a smile Grace’s way. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable after everything he’d put her through already.
“I see.” Susan’s voice flattened. She’d been pretty direct in both her real estate sales attempts and her interest in him beyond selling a storefront.
Keeping his attention on Grace, he tried to explain. “I’ve been giving thought to opening and managing a small specialty hardware shop over near the grocery store, and Susan had a property coming open. I com
pletely forgot I had an appointment to look at the space today.”
Chin tilted, Grace met his gaze head on, the intensity driving a nail into his conscience. “You don’t ever plan to live in Atlanta again?”
“It’s just an idea I’ve been toying with.” The millionth stupid thing he’d said since meeting Grace. “I mean...”
“I’ll give you two some privacy.” Grabbing her plate, she took off toward the kitchen.
Chapter 12
Just an idea I’ve been toying with.
Seth’s words ran through Grace’s mind while she kept herself busy in the kitchen. The water rushing over the dishes drowned out the content of Seth and Susan’s conversation in the other room.
Why did she care if he wanted to make his home in Santa Rosa? They barely knew each other.
Yet, for some reason, the thought still pinched...toyed with her emotions. If he intended to return to Atlanta, there was a chance they could hang out, at least. But if he built a new business here, she’d probably never see him again after she left. It wasn’t as if Brooklyn had ever invited her down before. And pretty Susan-the-real-estate-agent had an empty ring finger and looked to be interested in more than leasing a retail space.
Looked? Yeah, that was a total understatement. The woman stalked the man’s home when a simple text would have done the job just fine. She wasn’t looking. She was hunting.
A door clattered as it shut, and Grace cut off the water.
“Grace?” Seth’s voice called from the couch.
She took quick steps to check on him. “Is your friend gone?”
“Yes.” His chin dipped as he peered up at her. “I hate that the timing interrupted our breakfast. Everything was wonderful, but did you get to enjoy any of it?”
“I did.” Though she’d eaten alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but be a little proud of how well the food had turned out. Cooking for one wasn’t as fulfilling as preparing a meal to share. Having someone appreciate the results made the effort worthwhile.
“Do you need to go next door for a shower or to check on the house? I promise to be good if you want to take a break.”
Man code for he wanted a break. She probably should’ve left when she’d found Susan at the door, but the woman’s arrival had thrown her off-kilter. More off-kilter than she already was. “I do need to tell Mac about the orders we made and when the deliveries should arrive.” She needed a shower, too. “I’ll get out of your hair for a while. Call me if you need anything.”
“You’re not in my hair, but you’re welcome to brush it if it’s sticking up.” A mischievous look twinkled in his eyes, hurling her emotions into a seesaw. The up and down was dizzying. “And I fully expect you to come back to feed me and give me a do-over in Scrabble.”
“Another do-over?”
“I seem to need a heap of grace.” His smile couldn’t become any more charming.
Warmth heated her whole face, and a giggle slipped past her lips. “Since you put it that way, I’ll go take care of business and return ready for a battle.” Still smiling, she slipped through the door.
Once she was outside, she scolded herself. She shouldn’t enjoy his company so much. He wouldn’t be in her life for long. She was only lobbing her heart up to be smashed once again.
Really, she should plan for a future all on her own. The income she earned as Brooklyn’s assistant was good, but she’d reached the ceiling there. She’d made plenty of connections while arranging appointments for her boss, developing important documents, attending luncheons with powerful people. Perhaps she could move into a position at the Capitol or even become a lobbyist herself for the right issues.
Outside, Mac unloaded two Christmas trees from the bed of his truck, each measuring around five feet. He waved when he spotted her. “Hey, Miss Grace. The wife wanted me to deliver some Christmas spirit to you and Mr. Gibbs. I’ll set these blue spruces in their stands, and you let me know if you don’t have decorations. She’ll pick up whatever you need.”
“How sweet. Thank you. I’m not sure what Brooklyn has, or Seth, either. Let me get my purse, and I’ll pay you.”
“It wouldn’t be a gift if you did that.” A grin split his beard-stubbled face. “Merry Christmas.”
The kindness of this couple overwhelmed her. Grace’s throat thickened. Never in her years of church attendance had she gone to such lengths to reach out to those around her. In fact, she often, in her busyness, failed to pay attention. Mac and Darlene set a great example she wouldn’t forget.
SETH PRESSED THE REMOTE to turn on the stereo system and found a station playing Christmas music while Grace sorted through the boxes of decorations Mac had retrieved from the attic. Merriment merged with dread and rolled over Seth like shifting tides. Three years had passed since he’d thought of decorating for the holidays.
Ornament after ornament, Grace smiled and asked if there’d been a story about the purchase of that particular piece before hanging it on the tree, unfolding memories he’d kept stored away. His grandmother had given everyone in the family an ornament each year. Each one commemorating an event or vacation. Both his grandparents had been such special people, taking him and his brothers fishing and boating, teaching them about carpentry and nature. He sure missed them.
“Oh, what a cute baby.” She held up a hand-painted ceramic frame that read, ‘Noah’s First Christmas.’
Chills prickled him. Silent screams of grief rushed through Seth’s throat, stilling his breath as he glimpsed the precious face of his son. That baby smile, one chubby hand raised, fingers splayed. Those fingers that would curl around Seth’s thumb, holding him. A burn stung his eyes—all a stark reminder of the reason he’d left the boxes in the attic. Selina had packed them just two months before they’d lost Noah. Haunted by the memories, he’d fought to pick himself up for the past three years, broken piece by broken piece, without much success.
“Seth?” Grace gently set the ornament on the coffee table and crossed the room to kneel at his side. “Are you okay?”
Tears choked him as he tried to drag his gaze away from the photo. How tremendously innocent. How horribly unfair. He forced himself to breathe. As much as he didn’t want to, maybe it was time to open up.
“There’s more to my story than a divorce.”
Chapter 13
Tears streamed down Seth’s face, and his shoulders heaved with the force of his sobs.
Grace stilled on her knees beside him, waiting. Only once had she seen a man she knew cry. She could still remember her father’s chest shaking as he tried to gain control before her grandmother’s funeral. The memory sparked her own tears.
Seth’s fingers swiped across his cheekbones. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to diminish your pain, because divorce is like a death. It’s just, my own marriage broke up after our son, Noah, passed away, not too long after that photo was taken.”
“Oh, Seth. I’m so sorry.” Understanding struck her, all the pieces falling in place about his strange behavior, wrenching her heart. What a nightmare he must’ve lived through. “There are no words... I can’t imagine the grief after a loss like that.”
“Yeah, when we talked about bad things to say after a divorce, I could’ve added a whole list of things not to say when a child dies.” A bitter laugh slipped through his lips. “‘He’s in a better place. He’s home. It was his time. God knows what He’s doing... You can have another child.’” Seth’s voice broke, but he continued. “None of those words made sense. I didn’t want it to be Noah’s time or for him to go home. I wanted him in our home.” Frustration laced his wild gestures. “And how could having another child ever replace our son? That’s like saying, ‘Sorry your wife died, but you can get another one.’” His head dropped in his palms, and he massaged his forehead. “Honestly, God may know what He’s doing, but I don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated in a whisper and rested a hand on his. “I can pack this stuff up. We don’t have to talk about it
.”
“What I want seems to be in direct opposition to where God’s casting me.” He inhaled a breath that appeared to fill his shoulders. “But I’m clinging to my belief that He is good, and He loves me, no matter how badly my heart’s been broken.”
“He is, and He does.”
“I know.” His voice was quiet...solemn. “Will you hang the picture on the tree for me? Someplace on the front where I can see Noah.”
“If you’re sure.” Hesitant, she picked up the ornament, moved to the tree, and hooked it over a branch at eye level. The sweet face saturated Grace’s heart with a minuscule taste of Seth’s pain. “How’s that?”
“Perfect.” Though his blue eyes were glassy, he offered a shaky smile. “He was amazing.”
She turned her gaze to study the picture. A little bald head with huge blue eyes looked up at her. “He is.” She caught her lip under her teeth for a moment, debating, choosing her next words. “Can I ask what happened? If you don’t want to discuss it, that’s okay.”
He gave a slow nod, and his eyes darted to another place and time. “Selina had a cold, so I put Noah to bed that night. He usually still took a bottle around four, and I got up and warmed the formula. When I went in...” He stared at his hands in front of him. “I followed every rule—laid him on his back, made sure there was nothing in the crib. But still he...”
A sharp burn slid across her chest, a jagged ache for the pain Seth had gone through—was still going through—losing a child to SIDS. She sat beside him and took his rough hand in hers. “What happened wasn’t your fault. You have to know that.”
“I’ve tried to convince myself. My family has tried to convince me. But Selina had to lay the blame somewhere. On me.”
“She was wrong. Your family is right.”
Falling For Grace Page 7