Saving Grace

by Stacey Espino

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Hooking up a fax line. Can you believe he managed without a fax machine all these years?”

  He smirked, and she shook her head in disbelief.

  “I just bought a dress. For the dinner,” she said cautiously. She still felt like an intrusive guest.

  “Cool. Can I see it?”

  For some reason, she hadn’t expected him to act so warm and welcoming. She had grown used to him being aloof with her these past weeks and had to get accustomed to this new side of him.

  “Okay.” Grace opened her bedroom door and set all the bags on the end of her bed. Scot entered, bounded onto her duvet, and leaned against the headboard. Quite at home. But this was his home, wasn’t it?

  Grace pulled the hot pink material out of the bag and held it in front of her. “What do you think? Too much?”

  He said nothing, only stared. She imagined him undressing her with his eyes, and she liked it. Grace wanted Scot to desire her, get hard picturing her naked.

  “Scot?”

  “Huh?” He shook his head and looked up at her.

  “The dress. Do you like it?”

  He sat up straight at the side of the bed and ran his hands through his waves of hair. “That’s some dress. Wow.”

  “Is that a good wow?”

  “A very good wow,” he drawled, deep. “Can’t wait until tonight.”

  “About tonight, Scot. Are you sure you want me coming along? It’s your birthday. I don’t want to ruin things. I’m not family.”

  “Ruin things? I want you there, Grace.” He stood and approached her, an intensity burning in his eyes. “How about we call it a date?”

  Grace’s heart began fluttering, and her uncooperative body started to heat. Scot looked down on her. He stood a good foot taller, all broad and male.

  “I forgot to say happy birthday,” she whispered, at a loss for words.

  He leaned down and kissed her lips with a gentle brush. Warmth and completeness filled her during the brief contact. It felt so pure, so right. In one moment, she knew Scot was the only man for her. Words couldn’t express how she felt, but she knew. As if everything in her life, every heartache and painful memory, led to finding this one man who would complete her. It excited and scared her. Love did exist, but it could destroy her, and she had the urge to pull away as much as she wanted to lunge into his arms.

  “See you at six,” he said as he returned to the office.

  She heard Mr. Wagner’s voice. Grace closed her door and dropped onto the bed with the dress still clasped against her and a smile painted on her face as she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. For the first time in a long time, she looked to the future with hope, rather than trepidation.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mr. Wagner held open the door to the restaurant for Grace. He cleaned up well, freshly shaven, wearing a dark suit and black cowboy hat, and smelling amazing.

  Everyone knew him.

  In their short trek from the truck to the front doors of the restaurant, every person they passed wanted to shake his hand and introduce him- or herself. She had to remind herself that the Wagners were drowning in money and had a name recognized all over the country. One would never know it because Wayne Wagner lived a down-to-earth life, was humble and considerate. He remained a complete gentleman, introducing her respectfully to his acquaintances, not as his wife but simply as Grace.

  She felt like a spectacle in her bright, slinky dress. Her hair hung loose, a dark cape highlighted against the hot pink material. Jenna did her makeup for her, showcasing her eyes and lips.

  Inside the restaurant, dim lighting and a multitude of delicious scents greeted them. She took a deep breath, savoring the smell of freshly baked bread, garlic, and barbequed steak. Grace hooked her arm around Mr. Wagner’s bent elbow as they weaved around tables filled with guests. They nodded and smiled as they passed. The hostess led them to a semi-walled-in area reserved just for them, private and cozy.

  A vase of fresh red roses decorated their tabletop, and candle jars provided comforting illumination. She examined the flowers, admiring their beauty. Not red, but antique with red rims and burnt orange petals.

  “Send my son over as soon as he arrives,” Mr. Wagner told the hostess as he held out Grace’s chair for her.

  “Of course, sir.”

  Grace folded her hands over the table and took in her surroundings.

  “You look beautiful tonight.”

  She turned to her companion and smiled. His hat hung on a wall hook behind him, and he sat slightly angled at the circular table to appreciate Grace.

  “You’re too generous with the flattery,” she teased.

  “I see changes in you already. You’re not the same girl who showed up on my doorstep three weeks ago.”

  “I agree. And I have you to thank. Being in that loveless marriage blinded me, but coming here opened my eyes to how much I’d lost of myself.”

  She regarded his face as the flickering candlelight highlighted the curves and angles, shadowed his age, and made her notice how much Scot resembled him. Just the thought of him made her tingle with excitement. He could arrive at any moment.

  “You should get those papers signed.”

  “I will. What about you? How are you taking things? It should be your wife sitting here, not me.”

  “If this is what she wants, I can’t stop her. Whether it’s the wrong decision or not, nobody learns a darn thing being told what to do.”

  “It’s not fair to you.”

  He patted her hand. “I always manage. The farm keeps me busy, keeps me young.”

  The thought of such a wonderful man who still loved his wife having to spend the rest of his natural life alone made her ill. Part of her wished she could be exactly what he needed to ease his pain. But he had taught her to start living for herself, to give her own needs priority.

  “Sorry I’m late,” said Scot, scooting in around Grace to pull out an empty chair. He brought the freshness of the night and the scent of his musky cologne along with him.

  “Twenty-nine years today,” said Mr. Wagner reflectively. “Only one more year until you hit the big three-oh.”

  “I’m not worried anymore,” said Scot, shrugging off his suit jacket.

  “You? Not worried about it? Seems every time we talk you fret over turning thirty.”

  “Until I met Grace.” He answered his father but held Grace’s eyes. “My twenties no longer have the same appeal.”

  “Ah…” Mr. Wagner leaned back in his chair, regarding them both. “I must be losing my intuition with my old age.”

  They still stared at each other, telling stories with their eyes.

  “I raised a good man, Grace. No better out there than him.” He slapped the table to gain Scot’s attention. “You still remember how to treat a lady, I hope. Grace is a woman of worth, not one of those buckle bunnies that follow you around.”

  “Dad.” Scot frowned at his father, signaling him to turn off the parental embarrassment.

  “Okay, let’s order.” Mr. Wagner chuckled in genuine amusement.

  The evening drifted along with good food, wine, and interesting conversation. She enjoyed hearing tidbits into Scot’s childhood and history. By the time they finished their tea and coffee, the restaurant had nearly cleared out.

  “That was fun,” said Grace in reflection.

  “This is one of your best birthday dinners yet, Scot. May have something to do with the company.” He winked at Grace. “You think you could manage to drive Grace home for me? I’d like to head over to the Thompson ranch to pay a quick visit.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Same time next year?”

  “You’d better be joking, boy. I’ll be expecting more lessons on that wretched computer this week.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have a problem getting me to spend time at the ranch anymore.”

  Mr. Wagner stood, grabbed his hat, and kissed Grace on the forehead, then walke
d around the table to give Scot a birthday hug, cowboy style.

  Once alone, Scot pulled his chair out and sat to face Grace. His dark blue button-up shirt matched his eyes. He reached out both his hands to cup one of Grace’s. Her palm and his rested against each other while, with his other hand, he stroked the top of hers as he spoke.

  “Sometimes things happen for a reason. Do you believe that?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I’m not happy that you had to deal with such a bad-tempered man back home, but if the whole wife swap led you to me, then I’m thankful.” He sniggered. “Never in a million years would I have seen this coming.”

  “Scot, there’re some things about me you should know.” Specifically, her sexual relationship with Trevor, Conner, and friends. Shit, it sounded bad. She didn’t deserve Scot. He was young, gorgeous, and had everything going for him. What did he need with a middle-aged, broken woman who had spread her legs for half the ranch? She’d destroy his reputation, and surely Trevor would love to rub the facts in Scot’s face because of his hatred.

  He placed a finger to her lips and shook his head. “I don’t need to know anything. Let’s start right now, okay? This can be the first day of forever.”

  She loved the sound of that: a fresh start, a new beginning with a great guy. But, her actions back on the ranch still plagued her thoughts, haunted her. No, she would never say she regretted her behavior. Everything was a part of her journey toward finding herself. She only hoped that those actions wouldn’t cloud any future with Scot.

  When they left the restaurant half an hour later, the storm brewing the past couple days finally arrived. Rain fell in torrents, the moon obscured by thick cloud cover. Scot pulled Grace against his body and held his suit jacket up over her head. They sprinted for the parking lot across the street, small rivers running along the road gulleys.

  Grace laughed out loud, barely heard because of the static of the rainfall. Despite Scot’s gallant attempt, both of them were soaked to the skin. She grabbed his arm when they reached the parking lot, stopping him dead in his tracks. His face bore confusion, his forehead lined with concern of getting her to shelter.

  They stood there in the pouring rain, facing each other. Grace squinted against the rain dripping in her eyes. Reaching up on her toes, she placed a hand on either side of his neck. “I forgot something.” She had to shout to be heard.

  “What did you forget?” he asked looking back in the direction they had come from. She turned his head to face her.

  “Your birthday kiss.”

  His confusion slipped away with a rivulet of water tracing his cheekbone. She expected him to stare at her forever, perhaps say something comforting. Instead, he surprised her. Reaching out to pull her against him with one arm, he brought her lips to his with a hand to the back of her neck. The kiss was passion in its rawest, truest form. This wasn’t a prelude to sex or lust. This was real. The rain poured over them, moistening their kiss, driving their passion to higher levels.

  Scot took a breath, looking down the length of Grace’s body, her braless form transparent under the thin, soaked fabric. His hair fell over his eyes. His collarbones, and toned chest, evident under his clinging shirt as he panted for breath. She swallowed, sensing his need which mirrored her own.

  Scot grabbed her hand and dashed toward his little car, pulling her along. Laughing and splashing her way behind him, she thought he was the craziest, most perfect man in the world.

  When they reached his car, Scot snatched her, breathless, clear off her feet, and she landed on the hood of his car with a hollow thud. He dropped over her, supported only by his elbows, and pressed against her. Her eyes lolled back in her head. Being desired by Scot couldn’t compare to a thousand one-night stands. Her feelings for him were genuine and pure.

  His hot mouth found her neck, his lips trailing up to meet her mouth. She welcomed his tongue, his invasion, and countered with her own. With Scot a barrier over her, the rain only drizzled on her face. Time stood still. She never knew such fever, such love, in her life. She drowned in his affection, surrounded by nothing but darkness and a couple lonely streetlamps in the distance.

  Scot pushed himself up, only to run his hands down the front of her, over her flattened breasts. Her nipples became tight buds from the chilly rain and the lust burning inside her for this one man. When his trail ended at her knees, he just stood there, gazing down at her with a burning intensity in his eyes. Did he await permission? Was a war waging within him to be a gentleman as his dad insisted he be or to give in to his desires?

  Grace wanted to make it easy for him, as much for him as for herself. She climbed up, awkwardly stood on her knees, and shuffled closer to him. With a firm tug, she ripped open his shirt, sending the tiny navy buttons rocketing to the asphalt around them. She dove in, licking the water from his chest and savoring his heat, scent, and taste. It gave him the permission he sought, and he pulled the clinging dress up over her head. A parking lot packed a much stronger punch of erotic thrill than an open field, even though they were equally deserted.

  He grabbed her face and kissed her fiercely, hungrily. She pulled him down over her until her bare back hit the cool metal of the hood. She hooked her legs around his waist, molding them together as one slippery mass of flesh and heat. Her wet hair clung around her arms, her neck, her chest. Scot managed to remove her panties without ripping them off. He unbuckled his pants, letting the front drop open. Her breathing picked up as she looked down between her legs, anxious to see what he carried under his belt. She wasn’t disappointed. He pulled out a firm, impressive length of flesh. Her pussy throbbed and became slick at the sight, desperate to connect with Scot in this most intimate way.

  He fell over her, positioning himself against her entrance, then gripped her hips and impaled her on his rigid shaft. She gasped, reaching around his neck and holding on as he drove into her. He fucked her with a coiled tension she never realized he held. His calm demeanor didn’t hint at the virile beast hiding underneath.

  A sharp crackle of thunder exploded overhead, and the downpour continued around them, over them. Nothing distracted either from the fuelling pleasure of their joined bodies. Desperate to feel his skin, every curve that made him unique, Grace peeled Scot’s shirt over his shoulders. She sucked and licked the rain from his neck, his lips, while he pressed into her with long, firm strokes that brought her closer to the edge.

  She knew that he was close, sensed his moment of urgency when he reached his arms around her back and pulled her closer. His hips pumping faster, he drove her wild with electric ripples of pure lust that heated her body, made her pelvis shudder and jolt. So close.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she gasped, the world drowning out as she peaked in the most awe-inspiring release she had ever experienced, an orgasm to end all orgasms. Scot followed her before collapsing over her wet, nude form.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Where we going?” asked Grace when they turned off the main road. She held her wrung-out dress above her breasts, lucky to even get it over her body at all.

  “It’s still my birthday. Stay with me tonight.”

  His last words were a request filled with longing she couldn’t deny. Where else in the world would she want to be anyway?

  He looked absolutely tempting with his damp hair falling into his face, his lips swollen, and shirt hanging off him like a rag exposing his glorious chest and shoulders. Her vaginal muscles clamped tight, sending a new wave of lust through her bloodstream. She convinced herself she could never have her fill of Scot.

  They arrived at his apartment, which looked different by night. The rain still fell, but not as heavily as it had. Scot dashed around the car, opened the door for Grace, and, taking her hand, led her to the front entrance.

  Once inside, she took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair like a comb, pushing the dark, slick mass away from her face. Her old life seemed like a lifetime away. She never wanted to return to
the woman she was only weeks ago.

  Scot smiled down on her with such warmth that her heart fluttered. He took her hand and led her up the many flights of stairs to his private loft apartment.

  She walked to the center of the room, hugging herself from the new chill reaching her bones that was making her shiver and her teeth chatter. Scot flicked on a couple floor lamps, bringing the dark suite into a mix of shadows.

  “You’re freezing,” he said, running his hands up and down her arms to create friction. “Hold on a sec.”

  His place appeared cleaner and more organized than it had on her last visit. Clothes were put in their place, the sofa clear, most of the boxes emptied and folded in the corner. Only the bed remained unmade and the desktop the same disarray.

  Scot came up from behind her holding an oversized plush bath towel. He unfolded it and held it out the span of his arms. “Slip that off. You’re soaked.”

  Grace complied, becoming modest now of all times about getting naked in front of him. When the rolled ring of material dropped to the floor, Scot hugged the towel around her without delay, pulled her against him, and kissed her atop her head. She loved how he made her feel.

  “Have a seat. I’m just gonna get some dry clothes on.”

  Scot turned on the stereo, low volume. No singing, just deep violin and piano bringing the room alive with emotion. Her emotions bubbled to the surface with each note. When Scott returned, dressed in jogging pants and fresh white T-shirt, he held out clothes for her to change into. She examined what he offered.

  Grace slipped into the bathroom and changed, rolling the waistband down and ankles up several times, but the pants still were huge on her. Even the T-shirt came down to her upper thighs. The clothes smelled of Scot, and the scent wrapped itself around her, so she couldn’t complain.

  She drowned in the music once again, joining Scot on the sofa. He pulled an old afghan over them, and she cuddled against his solid frame, resting her head on his shoulder. It felt right.