Grace (The Family Simon Book 5)

by Juliana Stone

  “Well that’s a relief, Mathew. I told Petra Binter that there was no way you would be interested in a woman like Sasha Armstrong.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “And what kind of woman would that be?”

  Dory didn’t pull any punches. “The loose kind. The trashy kind. The kind that is nothing but trouble.”

  “There are a lot of folks in this town who would put those same labels on me.”

  “Well they don’t know you the way I do, Mathew.” She paused. “So just who is this friend of yours? Anyone I know?”

  He glanced out the kitchen window just as another gust of wind slammed snow and ice against it. “Let’s get you bundled up and you can find out for yourself.”

  Dory tapped her toe against the tiled floor. She glanced back to her fridge. She rearranged a few things and then with a sigh, slammed the door shut. “You got food?”

  “Only the best damn chili in the state of Michigan.”

  Lips pursed, she pushed past him. “We’ll see about that. Grab some buns from the bin on the counter while I gather a few things.”

  Ten minutes later Matt had Dory bundled up on the back of his snowmobile and they headed into the darkness. He’d wrapped her up but good, glad to see she had sensible, heavy duty boots and snow gear.

  The going was a bit rough. First off it was dark as hell. And with the blowing snow and biting wind, it made finding the trail through the bush difficult. Luckily, he’d run this particular one many times over and he was able to get them back to his place in just under thirty minutes. Even so, by the time he helped Dory off of his sled, his hands were half frozen and he was feeling a bit lightheaded from lack of food.

  He helped her up the steps to his porch, surprised to see that the small drifts he’d noticed before he left had been cleared. Grace had been asleep on the sofa and he hadn’t bothered to wake her, but she must have been outside in the last hour or so.

  Matt took one step closer and was just about to reach for the door handle when it flew open and slammed back against the wall. Somewhere, something inside his house crashed to the floor—he just hoped it wasn’t the Shane Gallagher painting. Damn thing had cost him a small fortune.

  Grace stood there, cheeks rosy, hair all over the place, and a temper lighting up her eyes that was something to see. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her hands were fisted at her sides.

  She was pissed.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she snapped, taking a step forward.

  He opened his mouth to answer but she didn’t give him a chance. She took another step forward, out into the elements no less, and thumped him in the chest. It appeared to be her MO when she was upset, and he was damn lucky there was no ice underfoot or he would have ended up on his ass.

  “I’ve been alone in this house, looking after your dog and her puppies all day. Do you know how hard it is to carry a full-grown animal outside so that she can you know, do her duty?”

  “Her duty?”

  “Her duties, Matt! She had to pee, and yes, had a poop as well.”

  He tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. She looked so damn adorable.

  “Don’t you dare,” she warned, taking a step back. “I had no idea where you were. It’s like the freaking end of the world out here and you just left me.”

  Okay. He felt bad about that. “I…you were sleeping and…”

  “Seriously? I was sleeping? What are you? Like five? Real adults have real conversations, and when one of the adults decides to take off for parts unknown, in a freaking blizzard no less, letting the other adult know is usually the responsible thing to do. You left nearly two hours ago.”

  “Grace.”

  “Two hours Matt.” Her chin trembled and her fists balled again.

  He braced himself, pretty sure she was going to hit him again.

  “For all I knew, you could have gotten lost or been in an accident or...”

  The look in her eyes made him feel like crap. “I’m sorry Grace. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Damn right you weren’t thinking. I should lock you out of your own house or make you sleep in the shed. Who does that?”

  “A young man in need of manners is who.” Dory cleared her throat and stepped out from behind him. “But maybe we can discuss this inside? It’s a little cold out here, dear.”

  To say that Grace was surprised to see the little woman pop out from behind him would be an understatement.

  Her mouth fell open. “Oh,” she stammered, taking a step back into the house. “I didn’t see you there.”

  Dory smiled. “I’m glad that you didn’t. I quite enjoyed the show. Been a while since someone has put Mathew in his place.” She turned to Matt and winked. “I like this one.”

  Dory sailed past him and when he attempted to speak to Grace, she held up her hand—actually put it in his face—and shook her head. She stomped off after Dory and disappeared down the hall.

  Slowly Matt undid the laces on his boots and shrugged out of his winter gear. Outside the wind still howled, and the snow still fell. It was going to be a long night, he thought, making his way to the back of his house.

  Grace was bent over the pen, the smallest pup in her hands, while Dory cooed over Rosie and her babies.

  Matt should have been pissed off that his home, his sanctuary, had been invaded. He was a guy who liked solitude. He liked quiet and easy, and Grace Simon was neither one of those things.

  And yet it wasn’t anger that coursed through him as he poked about in the kitchen—lit a few more candles and got the chili ready for dinner. He paused, eyes drawn to the other side of the room and something inside him shifted. Grace sat on the sofa beside Dory, listening attentively to whatever it was the older woman was saying. As if she knew, Grace looked up. Their eyes caught and held.

  Nope. He wasn’t angry or annoyed or anything like that. For the first time in a long time, Matt Hawkins was content.

  Maybe Grace had been right. Maybe this was the end of the world. Or at least, it was the end of the world as he knew it.

  9

  Matt could charm the panties off a nun. Seriously. There was no question. Dory was clearly under his spell and from what little Grace had seen, the woman was no pushover. Heck, it hadn’t taken him more than an hour to crack through Grace’s cold exterior—all her resolve to remain aloof and uncaring slowly slipped away. She couldn’t help herself. When the man’s guard was down his smile was a thing of beauty, and by the time dinner was over, Grace was craving not only his smile, but a whole lot more.

  She watched him, from her perch on the sofa, as he chatted with Dory. They were discussing his award-winning chili (apparently he’d taken first prize at the local fall fair) and Dory was trying to figure out his ‘secret’ ingredient. Gosh. A man who could cook. A man who took in injured dogs. And a man who cared enough about an old woman who lived down the road that he would head out into a blizzard in order to make sure she was all right.

  Matt Hawkins was a man of contradictions. He pushed as hard as he pulled and Grace wondered if he’d ever let anyone see what was buried inside him. The things he hinted at. The dark things. The things she wanted to know.

  You are in trouble girl.

  Her cell phone rang and she fingered the device. It was her mother. With her battery running low and no way to charge it, Grace knew she’d run out of time. Eden DuRocher Simon was going to give her hell. No way around it. She hit the accept button, pressed speaker phone by mistake and was still fiddling with the damn thing when her mother’s voice rang out.

  “Grace Bluebell Simon.”

  Good Lord. The full name had been used. Bluebell was only pulled out when there was hell to pay. This was not going to be good. Grace sprang to her feet and bolted past Matt and Dory to the front hall where hopefully she would have some bit of privacy.

  “Mom.”

  “Grace, do you love your mother?”

  Wonderful. Her mom was going with the guilt thing.

  �
�Mom, please. Let me ex—“

  “Because I certainly love all my children even when they make it hard. That is a mother’s cross to bear. Remember when Beau’s appendix burst?”

  “What does Beau’s appendix have to do with me?”

  “Beau’s appendix has nothing to do with you.”

  “Mom have you been drinking?”

  “Lord knows you kids could drive anyone to drink, but in answer to your question Grace, no, I haven’t been drinking. I’ve been waiting by the phone for most of the day. Waiting for my daughter to call and let me know that she’s okay. That in fact, even though she’s stuck in the middle of a major blizzard that’s pretty much shut down the entire state of Michigan, she’s doing all right.”

  “Mom, I was going to call you. I swear.”

  “Let’s get back to Beau’s appendix, shall we?”

  Groaning, Grace pressed a hand to her temple and squeezed her eyes shut. Her mother wasn’t letting up and nothing short of a miracle would stop her.

  “Your father and I were in the South of France when that happened, enjoying the Côte d'Azur, soaking up the sun, drinking entirely too much wine and eating too many pastries. It was lovely. And it wasn’t until we were getting ready to fly home that I found out my son had been in the hospital and that not only had his appendix burst, but it was serious. He could have died.”

  “Mom,” Grace interrupted. Her phone was going to die and she didn’t need a rehash of Beau’s burst appendix. “He didn’t bite the bullet. He was fine.”

  “You’re not listening. He could have died. Very easily. It happens all the time.”

  “Mom, I really don’t understand—“

  “You obviously don’t understand or you would have called me as soon as you could and put my mind at ease. But you didn’t for the same reason that Beau didn’t call me. He knew I’d ask questions and he wasn’t prepared to answer them.”

  Here we go, Grace thought.

  “Do you know where Beau was when his appendix burst?”

  Grace shook her head wearily. “No, Mom, I don’t. I was what, fifteen? I think?”

  Eden’s voice rose a tad. “Your brother was spending the weekend with a woman, Grace. A woman who was quite a bit older than him, if you get my meaning. A woman who happened to be the mother of one of his teammates. It was highly inappropriate.”

  Oh. This was news to Grace.

  “Do you see where I’m headed with this?”

  “Um, not really.”

  “You’re not staying at the hotel.”

  Grace stared at the phone. She wished it was dead.

  “No. I’m not staying at the hotel. I’m at a friend’s place.”

  “You don’t have any friends in New Waterford, Grace. At least no friends I’ve ever met.”

  “Mom, it’s not what you think.”

  “You don’t know what I think because you haven’t asked. But here’s what I know. This Matt Hawkins is a troubled young man and you’ve got a history of trying to save troubled young men. I know he was in Nashville.”

  “How do you know that?” Honestly, what the hell?

  “Betty told me he was in Nashville.”

  Okay, Grace was getting fed up. Her private life was private. She didn’t need attitude from her brother. She didn’t need her sister-in-law messing in her business. And she sure as hell didn’t need grief from her mother.

  “Look, you don’t know anything about Matt.”

  “I know enough. I’ve met the man at several family functions. Beau’s wedding being the first. I remember how infatuated you were with him.”

  “Infatuated! I’m not infatuated with him.”

  Her mother paused and her voice softened. “He’s a handsome devil, I’ll give him that. And I totally understand why women are attracted to the dark and dangerous type. But Grace, men like that are not always redeemable. Sometimes men like that are damaged for life. You need to know what you’re dealing with. I’ve heard things...and I can’t help but worry about any involvement you might have with the man.”

  Grace leaned against the wall, staring out into the dark. “You only know what you’ve heard. You only know what he let’s you know. There’s so much more to Matt. So much that he doesn’t let anyone see.”

  “Grace. I’m speaking from experience. I know things, because I’ve lived. That man has been broken—“

  “Oh my God, mother. Why would you say something like that?”

  “Look into his eyes, Grace. Really look. And you’ll see what I see. I’m telling you this because you’re my child, my daughter, and I don’t want to see you hurt. That man will break your heart if you let him. Please don’t do anything stupid. Please think things through before you act.”

  For several long moments the only sound Grace heard was the wind blowing across the porch. It was eerie and haunting. She gave her head a shake, wanting to get rid of the feelings washing over her. “My phone’s going to die. I don’t want you to worry about me, Mom, okay? I’m good.”

  Her mother started to speak but then her phone went dark and that was that. Pocketing her cell Grace slowly walked back to the kitchen. The fire was stoked something fierce and Matt was seated at the low table across from Dory, the runt of the litter in his arms.

  Grace’s heart swelled at the sight.

  He glanced up just then, his face a wonder of shadows—dark and light. “Bluebell?” he asked, flashing a smile that made her heart constrict.

  Grace slid onto the sofa beside Dory and nodded. “Bluebell.”

  “That’s some kind of handle,” he chuckled, though his laughter slowly died as their gazes locked. There was heat there—and it was intense.

  “It is,” she managed to say. “It was my great-great-grandmother’s name. What’s yours?”

  His mouth thinned a bit, that beautiful smile fading as his gaze slid from hers. “Benjamin.”

  “Oh,” she replied. “Were you named after someone as well?”

  He gave a quick nod and got to his feet, placing the puppy back with Rosie. “I’ve got some stuff to do,” he said gruffly, and left without another word. Just like that, all the warmth in the room was sucked away and Grace shivered.

  She looked at Dory, noting concern in the woman’s eyes. “Who was Benjamin?”

  Dory picked at the edge of her sleeve and settled back on the sofa, shaking her head slowly. She didn’t speak until they both heard the front door slam shut, and then she whispered. “Benjamin is Matt’s father.”

  Grace couldn’t help but wonder. “Is he still alive?”

  “As far as I know, he is.”

  She was going to take a stab in the dark. “I take it they don’t get along?”

  Dory was silent for a few seconds. “Matt’s story is for him to tell and I have a feeling few people know the details. Hopefully he comes around and shares it with you, because if anyone needs a connection, it’s that young man.” Dory shook her head, her face resigned. “But please don’t think less of him if he doesn’t. Some things are just too hard.”

  The older woman didn’t offer up any more information and with a sigh, Grace reached for a board game on the table beside her. “Scrabble?” she asked lightly.

  It was going to be a long night.

  10

  The storm finally let up sometime in the night. Matt had spent most of it nursing a bottle of Jack, while freezing his ass off in the barn. Stupid really. After all this time the mere mention of his name, Benjamin, could take him back to a place he didn’t want to think about.

  It took a lot to make him forget, most of the bottle judging by what was left, and by the time Matt made his way back to the house, it was pushing three in the morning. He was tired as hell and more than just a little drunk. In fact, if he wasn’t such a big guy, he probably would have passed out hours ago.

  As it was, he stumbled through the dark to check on Rosie and her pups. He was about to flop his ass onto the sofa, when something made him look twice and he noticed Dory. She’d
fallen asleep there and he scooped another blanket off the pile on the floor and draped it over the older woman.

  Electricity had returned a few hours ago, and he made sure the fire was out before heading up to his room. All he could think about was his bed, his pillow, and finally getting some shut eye. Damn Jack. His buddy never failed to knock him on his ass.

  He kicked off his boots, not caring that he’d just tracked snow all over the place, and then tossed his jeans, plaid shirt, and his boxers. The cold felt good against his heated skin and Matt stumbled in the dark to his bed, managing to stub his toe on the bedpost.

  “Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely and yanked the covers back. He slid between them, immediately turning on his side and reaching for the other pillow.

  But it wasn’t his pillow he found. His large hands slid across something soft—there was no denying that—and it sure as hell wasn’t cotton.

  Grace?

  Matt didn’t think. His brain had shut off a long time ago and he was on auto-pilot. He moved toward the warmth, and sank his nose into soft, silky hair that smelled like the honeysuckle his grandmother used to grow along her back porch.

  He groaned and moved his hands around to the front of her body, but the very things he sought were covered. And impatient, he pushed aside clothing, fingers eagerly inching toward soft breasts and smooth, taut skin. Matt moved so that he pressed into her, his groin settled against her butt.

  “Damn, but you feel good.” His brain was jumbled, his veins full of Jack, and at the moment Matt was content with the weight and warmth of another body in the night. He relaxed, snuggled into the curve of her back and as he listened to her even breathing, he eventually fell asleep.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T EXACTLY DARK out when Matt woke, but it wasn’t bright either. He was in that place somewhere between dawn and full-on morning. He’d never bothered with blinds and could see the faintest traces of light coming through the window into his room. Normally he’d jump straight out of bed as soon as he could, but at the moment he wasn’t that guy.