Good Gracie

by Ines Saint

After a moment she withdrew her hand and maneuvered so she could instead slip her arm behind his elbow and reach for his hand that way. It was much better. Except for the fact that her arm was in contact with his thigh and close to places that made her tingle in ways she understood but wasn’t ready for.

  He glanced down at her, and she saw his dimple was indeed directly related to amusement; although he was holding back a smile, he was most definitely amused. And she was still holding her breath. There was no way to let it out without it being obvious. She’d been holding it in too long. So she released it in one long swoosh before saying, “It is important because you looked conflicted there for a moment. Until my clumsy attempt at comforting you. Now you just look amused.”

  Josh let go of her hand, put his arm around her shoulders, and squeezed her to him. “It wasn’t clumsy. It was genuine and gentle and sweet. I needed all those things.”

  She turned to him, and with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, it was almost as if they were locked in an embrace. Her heart raced, but something told her to hold on to her wits because she was close to getting at something important about Josh. She looked up and held his eyes. “You must see and hear a lot of lies, bitterness, and harsh realities. That can’t be easy.” Josh stared at her for a long moment before looking down at the floor again. He didn’t say a word.

  Maybe he was ready to be alone. It was late, after all, and he had both a demanding job and a campaign to run. She started to get up and slip off his coat, but the regret in his eyes when he glanced up at her made her stop. “You probably have a long day tomorrow,” she said, to gauge whether he wanted her to leave or not.

  “Tomorrow is Saturday.” A corner of his mouth lifted up.

  She slowly sat back down. “Won’t you be campaigning or something?”

  “Or something.” He gestured up the stairs with his chin.

  “You’ll be here again?”

  “I will be after my soccer game. There are at least a dozen boxes filled with legal history up there. I’ve been going through them.”

  “So that’s what you’re doing here so late,” she said with a smile, and her heart took a tumble at how adorable he looked, all excited about legal history.

  He smiled, too, and lifted his hand to lift a few strands of her hair. “Yep. I was supposed to meet a friend with a certain flair for design to show her the house so she could give me ideas. But she never showed up.”

  His hand was close enough to her face that she could feel its warmth on her cheek and it felt so good she could barely breathe, but she managed to say, “I’m sorry.”

  “No worries; the power blew out anyway, remember?” He dropped his hand and indicated the note again. “And you were sidetracked. You needed time alone. I understand.”

  Except she hadn’t been alone. It didn’t take long to sense rather than decide he should know that Mrs. Wolf wasn’t responsible for the letter. “I went to see Mrs. Wolf.”

  Josh’s eyes widened. “Huh.” A pause. “How did that go?”

  “It was . . . odd. She apologized.”

  “She apologized,” he repeated in disbelief. “Did she elaborate?”

  Gracie could no longer look at him. The next words would be hard to share. “She said she hadn’t seen the recording during the legal proceedings because she believed what her son had said, but then . . .” It was hard to continue.

  “But she eventually saw it,” Josh surmised, his voice gentle. “And that’s why she apologized.”

  Gracie nodded.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like I said, I’ll be okay.” She looked at him. “But friendship is a two-way street. I’m here for you, too, Josh.” She didn’t expect him to share whatever had been bothering him earlier, but she wanted him to know he could count on her, too, if he needed to.

  He nodded and said, “I know.” Lifting his hand from the stairs behind them to squeeze her shoulder. Before he could slip away, and before she lost her nerve, Gracie did what felt natural and rested her head on his shoulder. Soon, he shifted and sat back against the wall, taking Gracie with him. They stayed like that for a long time, until the tizzy of having him so near gave way and she was able to feel his warmth and tenderness.

  Josh didn’t want the moment to end. Something about Gracie caused him to slow down, be in the moment, feel things he didn’t normally get to feel. He couldn’t pinpoint what those feelings were, he only knew they rolled inside him like soft, gentle waves whenever he was with her. Grace was a good name for her.

  “Josh?” she said after a while.

  “Mmm?” he answered and inadvertently breathed in the citrusy fragrance of her hair.

  “How do your parents feel about all this?”

  His parents, he mused, were the last thing on his mind. The scent of her hair was tickling his senses and he was busy debating whether he should move away. “The election, you mean?” he asked distractedly.

  She hesitated. “About all of it. The election, the comments, me being back . . .” She sighed. “I know your relationship with them suffered when you took my case and it’s always bothered me.”

  Josh froze. His first thought was that she really didn’t want to know what his parents thought about her. His next was that she already suspected it and was looking for reassurance that Josh didn’t care. What he understood most, though, was that if he lied to her, she’d know, and it would create a chasm between them. Their closeness at the moment was built on trust. “No, they weren’t happy that you came into my life the first time around because they felt it derailed my career, but I will always be happy about it because I know what you did was help me wake up and correct course. And they’re thrilled I’m running for prosecutor now because in their eyes it’s a huge step up. But I don’t know if they know you’re back. I don’t think they’ll be happy about it, but I’m happy you’re back.”

  Gracie glanced up and caught his eye. “Thank you.”

  He bent to place a quick peck on the top of her head in response.

  She smiled at that but said, “You’re not off the hook yet.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “What I’d like to know most is if you and your parents patched things up over the years.”

  Josh nodded in understanding. “We have, mostly. And the relationship we have now is better because it’s based on who I am and not who they want me to be. I mean, they’ve definitely pulled out all the stops in trying to get me to change my career path over the years, but we all know where we stand. And we’re family, you know? They were good parents, over all, and we care a lot about each other. That means we make time for one another.”

  She looked up at him again, her eyes gleaming. “Pulled out all the stops?”

  “And now you want to know what they’ve done.” Josh groaned and tried to look away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the twinkle in hers. It wasn’t just because she was trying to find humor in something that surely caused her pain, too. It was because the moment she’d gotten the note that evening, she’d gone off to confront Mrs. Wolf. He didn’t think she realized how amazing she was.

  “I’m granddaughter to Sherry Stokes and honorary granddaughter to Rosa Medina and Ruby Merriweather. You think you’re the only one with stories? Ha!”

  He laughed. “Fair enough. How about we do like yesterday, except this time, instead of trading stories about work, we’ll trade stories about family. You start.”

  She beamed at him. “Fair enough. There’s a lot I need to get off my chest anyhow. You have no idea how meddlesome they can be.”

  He laughed again, and it was the first of many laughs and more than a few commiserative groans. In the end they agreed Josh’s parents could benefit from a few Rosa-Sherry-Ruby interventions and a set down from Hope.

  After a while they each began to yawn in between words and they settled into silence. Josh was too tired to give way to the analytical undercurrent in his brain that was trying to figure out why neither of them made a move to get
up and say good-bye. It was late. They were sleepy. And still they stayed.

  Soon Gracie’s breathing became slow and even and he looked down to see she’d fallen asleep. On a sigh, she snuggled into him, and the gentle waves he’d been feeling inside began to rise up and crash against his chest. The feeling was pleasurable. And equally alarming.

  He tried to wake her up. Her long eyelashes flickered against her soft skin, but she didn’t budge. She looked comfortable and at peace in his arms. He, too, had found her to be a calming presence . . . until now. The tide rose again and he decided to carry her home. It seemed like the kindest thing he could do for both of them. She needed a bed and he needed a clear head.

  In one careful motion he managed to slide her head onto the crook of one arm while slipping his other arm under her knees to lift her up. He locked the front door, carried her down the front steps, and made his way over to her house, hoping the movement would wake her up. She was easy to carry and a light load, but her soft scent and the warmth of her body against his were doing multiple numbers on his senses.

  The evidence of what he was feeling could no longer be denied. Every objection his mind had managed to make had been overruled by his physical reactions to her. The instant misery he’d felt when he’d seen Gracie and Alex wearing separate pieces of the same pajama set should have been the smoking gun. He’d successfully moved to suppress it, but the evidence continued to mount. Only one verdict could be reached. He liked Gracie and he was attracted to her. What his sentence would be he didn’t know, and he had too much on his plate at the moment to hold a hearing over it.

  When he reached her front door he tried to wake her up once more, but she shifted to cuddle closer to his chest and released a breathy little sigh that tickled his neck. A swift and powerful jolt stole through him, robbing him of both thought and strength. He nearly dropped her.

  Gracie woke up with a start, feeling as though she had almost toppled out of bed. It shook her out of a dream in which she’d been floating on a deep pool of warm water. When she opened her eyes, she let out a yip and her body jerked. She was in Josh’s arms. “Shh. You fell asleep,” he whispered into her hair. She froze. “Here, I’ll put you down,” he said, before gently setting her on her feet.

  “Oh. I see. Sorry!” Gracie managed to say before trying the knob. Thank goodness Hope had left it unlocked. She slipped in. “Thank you. Good night!” She smiled through the crack. Josh smiled back, his dimple deeper than before. Gracie shut the door, leaned against it, and put a hand to her heart.

  When it was done racing like a speed demon, she went inside and tried to go to sleep. Instead, she spent half the night trying to determine if what she felt for Josh was real or imagined. Her body told her it was real. Very real. Her brain told her it was imagined. At first she went with her brain because her body had let her down before. But then she went with her body because the mere memory of his soulful eyes sent her senses into a tailspin that couldn’t be imagined.

  Finally, she went with her gut because the feelings there were making the most sense. It told her that Josh’s looks and charm probably made bellies swirl and toes curl everywhere he went. Both his past and present thoughtfulness and steadiness made him feel familiar. Her feelings were therefore a combination of both her mind and her body telling her that Josh was a safe man with whom to explore an attraction. Being around him made her feel tired of being trapped in her own skin. Even her worries were swallowed by the thrill of being near him. All she could think of was that a chaste kiss from his safe lips and a hug from his secure, dependable arms would be a good step in her quest to set herself free. Because he felt safe. If only she knew how to flirt without feeling like she was a teenager wearing headgear and accidentally drooling all over the class president....

  Chapter 10

  The first thing Gracie did when she walked into the Gypsy Fortune Café and Bakery the next morning was walk up to Rosa and say, “Teach me how to flirt. Please.”

  Rosa smiled wide. “Pick me up tonight at a quarter to seven. You and I are going to the Phoenix,” she said, mentioning a popular downtown Dayton dance club. “I’ll send Paige and Hope over to help you dress for the occasion.”

  Gracie took a step back. “Oh. I thought you’d give me lessons on how to flirt here. Clubs aren’t my thing. Besides, isn’t that a little early for a club?”

  “It’s Latin Dance Night. You’ll sit and learn the art of body language. There is no better way to flirt. And it starts early for a reason. You’ll see.”

  The art of body language. Gracie bit her lip. That sounded good. A little too good. “I won’t be expected to dance, will I?”

  Rosa shook her head. “No. You will be expected to be a good student and absorb my teachings.”

  “Should I bring a notebook?” she asked. The exasperated look on Rosa’s face was her answer. “No notebook. Absorb teachings. Got it,” she said, giving Rosa a thumbs-up.

  By the time her sisters showed up to help her pick out an outfit, Gracie wasn’t so sure anybody got anything. “I’m going to sit and observe other people dancing, I’m not a contestant on Dancing with the Stars.” And there was no way she was wearing the revealing red number Hope had brought over with her.

  “Carrie Ann Inaba sits and observes, but that doesn’t mean she lets all the contestants outshine her,” Paige pointed out.

  “Who’s Carrie Ann?” Hope asked.

  “A judge on Dancing with the Stars,” Paige explained. “But Gracie’s more Julianne Hough than Carrie Ann, now that I think about it. That dress might be a bit too much.”

  Might be? Gracie slumped and sighed. She wasn’t ready to show her sisters her ever-growing stash of unworn clothes, but she was picking Rosa up in less than an hour, and while she didn’t want to stand out at the club, she did want to at least look like she belonged there. So she padded over to her closet, opened it, and swept her arm toward the top shelf.

  “Why are you showing us your collection of stuffed trash bags?” Hope asked.

  “Help me bring them down. You’ll see.”

  Fifteen minutes later Hope and Paige were gaping. They’d emptied each and every bag, and Gracie’s room was covered with clothes and accessories. A veritable rainbow of skirts, shirts, dresses, slacks, jeans, shoes, boots, flats, and more.

  “You’ve only been staying here off and on for about six months.” Paige frowned. “I didn’t even shop this much when I was married to Glenn.”

  “This has taken me about a year and a half to amass. When my lease was up in Chicago, I brought everything I owned here, remember?”

  A lightbulb went on behind Hope’s eyes. “That’s what was in your moving van. I always wondered. It’s not like you brought much furniture.”

  Gracie took a deep breath and let it out. “You know I live and breathe my job and I love it, but I started to get more and more bored during my free time. Reading, studying, jogging, watching TV, long walks . . . they weren’t enough anymore. Then nice things started to catch my eye when I walked or jogged past stores and I started buying them, for fun.” She shrugged.

  “These all have tags on them,” Hope observed, picking through the clothes. “Do they fit?”

  She squirmed. How could she explain that she loved it all, it all fit, but none of it had felt right?

  Paige answered for her. “She was anticipating this moment. That’s why she bought things that spoke to her.” With a start, Gracie realized Paige was probably right.

  “And look!” Hope picked up a blue wraparound dress with a ruffled, asymmetrical hemline. “It’s playful and pretty but delicate and understated, too. It’s you.”

  Paige looked at it with a critical eye. “It’ll go great with your new hair and it’s Biscay Blue, which was on the Pantone fall fashion report, so it’s an all-around perfect pick.”

  That made Gracie smile. Fashion reports had never been her thing. Fun with colors, fabrics, and shapes motivated her. She held the dress up to her shoulders and looked in th
e mirror. Paige was right about two things: The blue did look nice with her hair and there was a sense of anticipation in her. She only hoped the club was one of those fun dance clubs and not a meat market. The last thing she needed was to feel like a sheep around wolves.

  When she and Rosa got to the club, a particular detail about the people waiting outside told her that sheep and wolves were the last thing she needed to worry about.

  Rosa caught her stealing surreptitious glances at every newcomer and grinned. “Oh, did I forget to tell you? It’s Seniors’ Latin Dance Night until ten.”

  Gracie laughed, relief washing through her. Rosa was brilliant. This would be a perfect night out with a friend. Only one thing could go wrong. “Will I be allowed in?”

  “They allow anyone in, but most young people stay away until midnight, when the seniors leave.”

  Gracie linked arms with Rosa. “I suspect they don’t know what they’re missing.”

  “You suspect correctly.”

  Rosa swept her inside and promptly staked out a corner table where she could quietly teach a captivated Gracie all about the lost art of flirting. Something about the privacy of their table and Rosa’s tone made her feel like a pupil learning from a master.

  “First, there’s the approach. Watch how women and men ask each other to dance.” She motioned for Gracie to look around the room. “Light, friendly teasing works best. Aggressiveness is a turnoff. This is why it’s important to watch people of a certain age. Most of us know what we’re doing and those of us who don’t look more ridiculous than ever. Young people can be tempted to accept unacceptable offers because they’re afraid life will pass them by. When you’re my age, you literally don’t have time for nonsense.” Gracie observed a few approaches. Those with cocky overconfidence were met with the best death stares she had ever seen on anyone other than Hope and Rosa.

  Rosa beamed when she saw Gracie had understood the first lesson. “Now watch the couples on the dance floor as they salsa. Those with great chemistry make the dance look fun, effortless, and sensual. This is because they pay attention and learn to understand each other’s subtle signals, which further fuels their chemistry. Watch also for those who are only using their partners to make themselves stand out. Like that one.” She pointed. “See? Blah! They’re annoying to watch. No spark. And then, finally, there are those who come on so strong, they make the dance look cheap. Flirting is like that, only in salsa, it’s the man who traditionally leads, while in flirting, anyone can take the lead. Remember that.”