by Stacey Wilk
“What do you do for fun?” His lip twitched as if he was holding back a chuckle.
Her chin went up, and she planted her hands on her hips. “I do lots of things for fun. I’m not sure what this has to do with anything.” She reached for her purse. “Cash will be fine. I’m going home.” That last word bit her tongue, and she sucked in a breath. Home? The Disaster House?
Blaise stepped closer. She could smell his clean scent, feel the warmth rolling off him. She tried to step back but collided with the kitchen chair. She grabbed it to steady herself.
He smiled down at her, the twinkle present in his dark eyes. “How much do I owe you for the groceries?”
The words dried out in her throat. Why was his presence unhinging her? She smoothed her shirt down. “It’s fine. I just hope Cash feels better tomorrow.”
“I can’t let you pay for all that stuff. I dragged you out of your house, and you drove out of town for my son. How much?”
“Really, it’s fine. I don’t want your money.” What kind of a person would she be if she took his money when all she bought was a couple of things? The poor boy was sick and without his mother. Grace corrected herself. It didn’t matter that his mother wasn’t there. Blaise was with Cash, and Blaise was enough. She knew better than anyone you could get by without a mother, even if your mother was present and accounted for.
“Thanks again for coming over. I think I overreacted.” He kept her pinned against the chair. In order to slip away, she’d have to push him back, but she didn’t trust her hands to handle the job.
“Common for the first time. The first time Chloe was… I really need to be going. It’s late. Big day tomorrow.” She had no reason to explain about the first time Chloe had a stomach bug. She didn’t trust the words in her mouth anyway.
“You never answered my question.”
“What question was that?” Her brain had stopped working. She couldn’t remember what he asked. She focused on keeping her gaze off his full lips and glanced at the tiny water stain in the corner of the ceiling above his head.
He tucked a hair behind her ear, sending electric current down her spine. Why was her body responding this way? She hardly knew Blaise. Larry never roused a fiery desire in her. What she did know, aside from him being a caring father, she didn’t really like. His charm or the clean scent or the way he loaded the dishwasher was throwing her off balance. It had to be.
“What do you like to do for fun?”
“Um, I don’t know. Lots of things, I guess. I really need to be going.” Her voice climbed a few octaves, and she willed her hand to push him back. He stepped away, and the scorched air between them disappeared, leaving a cool breeze on her skin.
“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night? I know a place you might like.” His words followed her out of the kitchen and into the dining area. “It’ll be fun.”
He had to say that. The one thing that got her thinking. When was the last time she had any fun? She couldn’t remember, and Larry had always been accusing her of not being any fun. She hated him for that. She’d gotten so wrapped up in taking care of their home and their daughter she pushed aside all that she had wanted to be. And she thrived under a schedule. Order made sense to her. She could count on it unlike anything else in her life. Now she was staring at a very handsome man whose whole life screamed disorder, didn’t it? A music man would suffocate under all her plans and calculated risks. Larry was an engineer, and she had strangled the life out of their relationship, hadn’t she?
“You can’t eat in that house,” he said.
“I have Chloe. I can’t leave her.”
“She can eat here with Cash. Or they can come if they want.”
“I’m not sure Cash will feel up to the company or the food.”
“Let’s worry about that tomorrow. It’s only dinner. I know you said you’d never let me buy you dinner, but I’m hoping you’ll make an exception. Think of it as reimbursement for the groceries.”
Her face and neck sizzled. She pressed a hand to her cheek, hoping to keep the red blotches of embarrassment from growing full bloom. He remembered her dreadful comment.
He was right about the state of the house. How would they eat? She figured takeout or something. But dinner with Blaise? What would they have to talk about? They were so different. Of course, if she did go, she’d have something interesting to tell Jenn the next time they spoke. Jenn would definitely scream like a crazed fan. But that wasn’t the right reason to go to dinner with a man.
“Are you going to make me wait all night for an answer?”
She looked in the direction of her house. Wasn’t the reason she came down here so she could be different than she was before? Wasn’t she looking for a second chance to create herself?
“Okay. Thank you. Chloe and I will accept the invitation.” She wasn’t ready to throw caution completely away. If Chloe didn’t agree to come along, then Grace would cancel the date. Not a date. An invitation. She wanted to smack herself.
“It will be fun. I promise.” He winked.
That’s what she was afraid of.
Chapter Twenty
Did he really ask her to dinner? Blaise ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up the joke about her not wanting him to buy her dinner. Sure, she was beautiful, and when she was only inches from him, it was all he could do not to pull her to him and devour those lips. Devour? Was he using words like devour now when it came to women? No, not women. This woman.
He went back to the sink, shoved his good hand under the scalding water, and without soaking his brace, tried to wash what dishes wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.
His phone vibrated on the counter next to him. Only one person would be calling at this hour.
He wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “What’s up?” He didn’t mean to bark at his brother. Grace had gotten under his skin, and he was worn out from Cash being sick and the stress of not knowing what to do. The muscles in his shoulders had turned to stone. What he really wanted to do was climb into bed and shut his dry eyes. He should’ve thought about that instead of burning his hand in hot water. Did it really matter if the damn dishes were clean? But he saw the way Grace took in his place, as if surveying him, and he didn’t miss the way she took his glass into the kitchen.
“I was calling to see how your neighbor is doing.”
Did the man have a sixth sense? Did he know Grace was here? Blaise looked around to make sure Colton hadn’t walked in while he wasn’t paying attention. “What do you really want?” He checked the driveway just to make sure.
“I can’t sleep, and you’re the only person I can call at this hour who won’t hang up on me.”
“I’m not reading your ass a bedtime story.” He turned out the lights in the kitchen.
“I was hoping you’d sing to me.”
“Bite me.” His fingers found the lamp switch and turned it, throwing the living room into darkness. He flopped onto the couch and rubbed his eyes. He heard rustling on the other end of the line.
“Listen, we’re still finalizing dates, and until we hit the road, I’ve got nothing going on out here. I thought I’d come back to Heritage River and hang with you and Cash for a while. Do some Savage-men bonding.”
“You’ll get bored in a day.”
“Do I really have to ask my kid brother to stay in the house I grew up in?”
“You do now that I own it.”
“I’ll even listen to your stupid song.”
The last thing Blaise wanted was for Colton to come out and stay. He and Cash were just starting to get along. Colton would worm his way in between that. “What was the video Cash sent you?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Cash sent you a video. Of what?”
“Blaise, it’s no big deal, really.”
“Tell me.”
Colton let out a sigh. “He played in some open mic thing. Just him, strumming a twenty-five-dollar
ukulele. Pop-punk music. He’s good.”
Of course his son was a good musician. He had no doubt, but hearing Cash had shared something like that with Colton and not him made his insides feel like a broken drumstick. Colton was still getting the best of Cash.
“I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have mentioned it at Savannah’s that night. I slipped. I knew it would hurt you,” Colton said.
“I’m fine.” He didn’t want to talk about it. “When were you thinking about coming out here?”
“Tomorrow night. I can get a plane out in the morning. Be there by afternoon. Maybe we can get some fishing going at the lake.”
“You must be desperate for something to do. Okay, come. I’m telling you. You’re going to be bored. Cash is working and volunteering at the library. I’m just hanging around.”
“Yeah, I know. With your stupid garden.”
“When Savannah finds out you’re back, she’s going to try and make you play her fundraiser.”
“We’ll be on the road by then.”
Blaise hoped not. He didn’t want to let his sister down, and he didn’t want to leave Cash too soon. Not now that things were getting better between them. And could he really leave his kid for six months? Blaise scratched at his hand in the brace. He glanced in the direction of Grace’s house. He couldn’t see it, but he wondered if she had gone to sleep. He was grateful for her rushing over to help earlier. She wasn’t so uptight after all, and she was clearly not impressed with his waning celebrity status. He wanted to get to know her better. The Grace hidden under that need for control.
“Did you sell that car yet?”
Colton’s voice brought him back to his dark living room. He was too tired for a conversation about money. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow.” He pushed off the couch. His knees popped and crackled.
“I’m guessing that’s a no, then?”
“Goodnight, Colton.”
He carefully turned the knob on Cash’s door. When he looked in, Cash was sprawled out on his stomach. The sheets were tied up around his legs. The room smelled of sweat. Cash snored lightly but didn’t move when Blaise stepped in.
How did the years go by so quickly? How had he missed the most important moments in this boy’s life? Would Cash ever forgive him? Blaise thought about that video and hoped he could.
Would he make all the same choices if he had the chance? Probably. He never thought things through. He didn’t plan. He certainly hadn’t planned on being a father. But now with gray hairs sprinkled throughout his head and wrinkles around his eyes, he couldn’t imagine not having Cash. He wanted a chance to enjoy this time with his son. Jam together. Give him advice on women. The road wasn’t calling Blaise as it had in the past. He was ready to leave her behind.
He stepped back into the hall and closed the door behind him. He shuffled down to his room and pulled back the covers on the bed. The sheets cooled his warm skin, but he tossed and turned, trying to find a cozy spot.
He might be ready to leave the road, but she had her hooks in him. She was a drug you couldn’t kick, the provider of his life. The life he wanted to give to his son. Without her how would he survive? He was too old to start over. Who would buy the songs of a worn-out southern rock star?
He thought of the woman next door. “Grace,” he said. She had made something warm up inside his belly. He hadn’t desired a woman that way in a long time. He liked the idea of her under him, wrapped around him. Messing up his sheets. Messing up his life.
Colton didn’t want to come just to stay with him and Cash. No, Colton wanted to see Grace again. Blaise was sure of it. It was like that time in high school when Jeanine Paris, the lead in the high school musical, the girl with the gold hair, had Blaise turned around in circles. He sputtered and stuttered like an old car engine around her. They liked the same music. He had made her a tape of her favorite songs. But Colton saw her and moved in. He flashed his smile and spread his charm around her. Charm that Blaise, two years younger, didn’t have. Jeanine Paris forgot all about Blaise Savage, the wild-haired, skinny, impulsive drummer who sang out of key.
Blaise wouldn’t let a girl come between him and his brother. He had let Colton have Jeanine. This time it would be different. He wasn’t planning on giving up without a fight.
And it would start tomorrow night when he took Grace to dinner. He finally stopped tossing around and settled in. He closed his eyes, and sleep hit him like a mallet.
Chapter Twenty-One
The early morning sun poked through the trees and spilled through the windows of the kitchen. Grace made tea in the microwave relocated to the spare bedroom. This room would make a nice office. She pictured cream walls and a wool area rug in the center over walnut floors. Burlap drapes on the windows and a tall plant in the corner. But the new owners would choose the decorations. She would leave them the bare bones.
She took her tea and went outside. She was starting to like the front porch. It was quickly becoming her favorite spot in the house. Probably because it wasn’t stripped down to nothing or completely covered in Sheetrock dust. She passed the plastic chair, the only place to sit for now, and bounded down the steps, trying to ignore Blaise’s house.
Debris peppered the front lawn. Paper had blown into the bushes. Jud hadn’t done a very good job of making sure everything went into the dumpster. Was that deliberate defiance? With her tea in one hand, she moved around the lawn, throwing garbage away.
The idea of dinner with Blaise had kept her awake all night. She’d tried to tell herself it was only dinner. Not a proposition. He was just being neighborly. Isn’t that what southern folk did? But there was nothing neighborly about the way he stood so close to her or the way he touched her hair. No, that was a skilled romancer, and the skilled romancer scared the pants off her. Oh, Lord. Bad pun. She groaned and kept her gaze on the lawn.
She should just tell him no. She and Chloe could grab dinner at Jake’s. But if she went, she could redeem herself for that awful no-dinner comment. Every time she thought of it or the way his eyes twinkled last night when he reminded her made her cheeks burn again. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was having a hot flash. Did he want to see her getting hot? She covered her face with her hand. What had she gotten herself into?
Caught in the branches of the spirea, she found receipts faded from the years, a pink sales slip for a refrigerator, and a letter from an assisted living. She stopped. Assisted living? The hairs on her arms stood up.
The letter was addressed to Nancy Templeton, welcoming her to Shadow Lawn Assisted Living. It was a standard form letter, but at the bottom, someone had handwritten a message:
“Looking forward to your arrival on March 29.”
Based on the date of the letter, that was ten years ago. The house sat empty for ten years? No wonder it looked the way it did. And who had looked forward to Nancy’s arrival at a place most went into and never came out?
The growling of an engine rolled toward her. Beau’s faded red truck turned into her driveway. Jud slouched in the passenger’s seat, head tilted back as if he might be asleep. Grace shoved the letter in her back pocket and threw the rest of the papers in the dumpster.
“They’re back.” Chloe stood on the porch, a mug in her hand and a smile on her face. She had twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head. She wore a blue T-shirt and gray sweat shorts that barely covered parts better left clothed. Her feet were bare and toes polished lime green. The nose piercing twinkled in the morning sun. Grace swore that thing mocked her.
“Go put on different shorts.” Grace tried to swat her away, but Chloe bounced down the steps.
“Why? I just got these.” Chloe stood beside her and watched as the men peeled themselves from the truck. “I don’t have to help today, do I?”
“What else were you planning on doing?” The tension began to weave its way into her shoulders.
“I don’t know. Get some sun, maybe. Walk into town and see about some kind of a job.” Chloe pul
led her phone from the pocket of her shorty shorts. How could shorts that size even have a pocket?
“There’s plenty to do right here. You can pitch in and help Beau. That will be job enough.”
“Mom, I didn’t come down here to do hard labor.”
“Too bad. That’s what you’re doing.” Grace glided forward. “Good morning, Beau, Jud.”
Jud offered a head nod as he pulled tools and lumber from the back of Beau’s truck. A little acknowledgement might’ve been nice.
“Morning, Miss Grace.” Beau saluted her with his coffee. “We’re going to get started putting those two rooms back together today. I hope everyone is ready to work hard.” He looked around. “Where’s Cash? That boy better not plan on being late.”
“He was sick last night. Stomach bug. I’m not sure he’ll be up for work today.” No sooner had she said that than Cash dragged himself across the lawn. The circles were still under his eyes, but his coloring had gone from dishwater gray to parchment.
She met Cash halfway before Beau could say anything else to him. “How are you feeling?”
“Lousy, but I can work.”
Beau was on them in a flash. “You’re going to do no such thing. Look at ya, boy. You’re in no shape to work, and I don’t want you getting hurt. My word is final. March yourself back in the house. You come back to work tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and stomped away.
“I agree with him.” Grace patted Cash’s shoulder. “Go inside. Take it easy today. There will still be plenty to do tomorrow.” They were already behind schedule. At this point what difference did another day make? Just that she might be homeless, but hey.
“Miss Grace, let’s get a move on.” Beau waved her in from the porch.
“Go home.” She shooed Cash back toward his house. She took a quick glance, but there was no sign of Blaise. She ran across her lawn and up the front steps. “Beau, you have to get started without me. I have an errand to run.”