Grace (The Family Simon Book 5)

by Juliana Stone

  “That would be rude,” she managed to say.

  “Incredibly rude, but so damn hot.” His mouth nuzzled her neck and everything inside Grace went molten. She sagged against him and the ache between her legs surged when she felt his hardness.

  “Keep doing that,” she breathed into him. “And I won’t make it through the next five minutes.”

  He chuckled, and nipped at her jaw before, sliding his arms around her in a big hug. The gesture was so normal, so genuine and easy, that it brought tears to her eyes and Grace buried her head in his shoulder.

  “This feels so…” She didn’t realize that she’d spoken aloud until he spoke.

  “So?”

  She paused for a moment, searching for the right words—the rights words to explain the jumble of emotion inside her. “I feel like I’ve come home. Like this is where I belong.”

  Her eyes slammed shut, because all of a sudden she was mortified. Had she just said that out loud? Out loud to a man she barely knew?

  Who did that?

  “Shit,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I mean I….” What the hell is wrong with me? “I don’t know what I mean.”

  She’d just handed Matt the best excuse ever to run away from her as fast as he could. He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t commit. Hell, he didn’t even do baby steps.

  “Hey,” he said roughly, hands sliding to either side of her face. He forced her head up. “Hey,” he said again, this time a little louder. “You need to look at me, Grace.”

  The expression in his eyes was serious. Dead serious. And her first instinct was to back away. But he wouldn’t let her. He held her with gentle fingers, and bent closer—so close that she could see his long lashes, and that little freckle near his left eye.

  So close that her entire body trembled with need. And want. And fear.

  “I know what you mean.” He paused, swiping his thumb along her bottom lip. “I feel the same.”

  Relief. Oh the relief to hear those words. They almost made Grace cry—and maybe she would have—except their moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, and it definitely wasn’t a female someone.

  Grace peered around Matt’s shoulder and spied her brother, Tucker, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. His grin widened when he met her gaze and she narrowed her eyes. She knew that smirk. Something was up.

  Matt turned around, though he kept his hand at the small of her back. That simple gesture was worth all the grief she was going to get from her brothers.

  Tucker pushed off from the wall and nodded to Matt. “Things are getting ugly in there. The ladies want the wine like yesterday.”

  “Right.” Matt glanced down at Grace and winked. “I’ve got a case in my truck.”

  “A case?”

  “You’ve obviously not partied with the Barker girls.” He grabbed his keys from the front pocket of his jeans, and headed out into the cold, leaving her alone with Tucker.

  “Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “Just say it.”

  He shrugged, a devilish smile lighting up his face. “I’ve got nothing to say.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He chuckled at that. “Seriously. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we’re playing volleyball tomorrow. I think we’ll kick butt over the locals. And I see you and Hawkins have something going on. That’s about it.”

  Okay. This was not the brother she’d been expecting. Beau would come around—he always did. But Tucker wasn’t that guy. He was more like their mother. He needed convincing. He usually needed a hit over the head.

  And he’d already warned her about Matt.

  “Come on, everyone’s waiting.” Tucker held out his hand, that smile still firmly in place and when she took it, he pulled her against him for a quick hug. “Have you talked to Mom and Dad lately?”

  Okay. That was from leftfield but she was perfectly fine with a change of topic. Anything to take the heat off of her and Matt.

  “No. I chatted with Dad briefly on Wednesday about the Christmas gala.” She frowned and looked up at her brother. “I did call the house yesterday and left a message but Mom never called me back. Is everything okay?”

  “I think so.” He poked her in the ribs and shrugged. “Guess you can ask them yourself.”

  Grace came to a full-on stop and nearly yanked her brother’s arm from his socket while doing so. “What’s that supposed to mean?

  The door flew open behind them, bringing with it a gust of wind, Matt, and a case of wine.

  “It means that you can ask them yourself. Mom and Dad decided to fly out for the fundraiser.”

  Her parents. Her overprotective, opinionated, butt-into-your-business parents, were here in Michigan. She glanced over her shoulder at Matt and there went her damn stomach again. He flashed her a quick smile but she ignored it and eyed up the case of wine in his arms. How many bottles were in that case? Six? Eight? Twelve?

  Tucker chuckled and pulled her along. “Don’t worry, sis. Dad’s already warned Mom to be on her best behavior.”

  “Well that’s good to know.”

  “Of course she only listens to Dad when she wants to. So it’s a fifty-fifty shot deal.”

  Okay. One case of wine and an entire evening with her family. No way was that enough alcohol to go around. No way in hell.

  14

  Dinner was a loud, boisterous affair—not unexpected with all three Barker girls in attendance. And when you tossed in the extended Simon family, it went on for hours.

  Herschel Barker’s kitchen skills were legendary around these parts and the meal he orchestrated was a testament to that fact. Dressed in the same white coveralls he’d owned for at least ten years, he took command of the kitchen and barked out orders that his granddaughters were only too happy to follow. Smoked racks of pork and beef covered in a sauce that was a secret family recipe, made for a one-of-a-kind meal and the best damn ribs Matt had ever tasted.

  He hid a smile as Herschel called out to one of his ‘twins’ to grab him a shot of Jägermeister. After a bit of back and forth, he was awarded his one and only shot of the night. Some might consider that a loss, but it was enough to keep the old guy happy and animated well into the evening.

  Twins. As long as Matt could remember Herschel had called his triplets that. It was just one more thing that made them a family. One more thing that made them unique. Connected.

  He was glad that Betty had found her way back. Because as he watched her settled on her husband Beau’s lap, their son Fitz playing with his cars at their feet, he knew she’d found her slice of happy.

  And if anyone deserved it, Betty sure as hell did.

  As it had many times over the last few hours, his gaze was drawn to one particular brunette. Grace was deep in conversation with her father, something to do with a chef, a gala, and a menu that sucked. Matt nursed his scotch and watched her. The girl was a hand-talker. She was about as animated as you could get and he loved that her father had just taken a step back, as if worried she might let a fist fly.

  She could hold her own with anyone.

  His gaze swung to her brother, Tucker. He didn’t get that about his sister. Oh, he’d been polite enough, but Matt knew the guy was worried about him and his sister. Probably thought he wasn’t good enough for Grace.

  Matt finished his scotch and set the empty glass on the table beside him. If he was Tucker Simon, he’d probably feel the same so he couldn’t fault the guy for being a bit of a dick. He stood and glanced around the room, taking in the myriad conversations, the loving touches, the secretive looks, and the shared jokes. These people loved each other fiercely, in a way he’d never experienced. His family life had been hell.

  He glanced back at Grace and wondered what that would feel like—to have someone know what you were going to say before you thought it. Or as Betty had said, to have someone willing to die for you.

  Startled at his train of thoughts, Matt gave himself a mental shake. The Bark
ers and the Simons were too damn loud. Too damn happy. A guy like him could only take so much.

  He slipped out of the front room and headed toward the back porch, grabbing his jacket from the front hall along the way. The wind had died down and the night sky was full of stars. He leaned against the railing, shoved his hands into his coat pockets, and enjoyed the view and the quiet. Nothing like looking up at a big sky to make a person feel small. To make a person remember another night sky, and another porch, and a night when everything changed.

  MATT WAS GOOD AND DRUNK. Didn’t take much for a skinny thirteen-year-old. He’d pinched a mickey of cherry whiskey from his dad’s cabinet and was flying high by the time it was half gone.

  He tipped the bottle back and took another long pull. The stuff tasted like shit and burned when it went down, but it did the trick. It helped Matt deal with the fact that his mother was gone and she wasn’t coming back. That this, his first Thanksgiving without her, was the new norm.

  He still couldn’t believe she’d left. Still couldn’t take the bullshit line she’d given him when he’d begged her to take him with her. A boy needs to be with his father, she’d said. Besides, she’d be doing a lot of traveling and he needed stability. He needed school. He needed to stay in New Waterford.

  She’d left nearly two months earlier and she’d called him twice.

  Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he searched his pockets for the pack of smokes he’d stolen from his uncle Brad. Shit. They were done. He tossed the pack over the edge of the porch and then the bottle along with it. No sense poking the bear. If his father caught him out here smoking and drinking, he’d get the belt for sure.

  The door to the porch swung open and Matt straightened, hoping he looked a lot more sober than he felt.

  “Hey there handsome. Your father’s looking for you.”

  Matt nearly choked on the resentment that filled his throat. Delilah Parsons. He’d like to know why the hell his father had invited her to Thanksgiving dinner at Uncle Brad’s. But he knew, didn’t he? His dad was screwing this woman. Had been screwing this woman while his mom was still around.

  “Whatever,” Matt replied gruffly. “I’m going home.”

  The woman licked her lips, making them shiny and wet looking. When she walked toward him, her hips swayed a little too much, and well, Matt couldn’t help but notice that her nipples were hard. How could you not? She was wearing the tightest sweater on the planet.

  “Come on, Mattie.”

  “My name is Matt.” He stuck his chin out and glared at her.

  A smile played around her flaming red lips. “Okay. Matt. Come inside with me. Your father wants to tell the family something.”

  Matt’s stomach lurched because in that moment he knew. Things weren’t done changing. He took a step back. Thought of running somewhere. Anywhere.

  But then the door flew open and his father stuck his head out. “What the hell are you doing out here? Get your ass inside, Matt. I’ve got something to say and I want you in there with me. Don’t make me look bad.”

  The look in his father’s eyes told him a few things. One. If he sassed him, Matt would pay. Two. Whatever it was his dad was gonna say to the family, had to do with Delilah. And three. Matt just knew none of it was going to be good.

  He wanted to run—to disappear and never come back. But he didn’t have the balls to defy his father. Not yet anyway.

  So he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and followed Delilah back into the house. The remains of their Thanksgiving meal were still on the dining room table, and everyone was gathered around waiting for the show to start. His grandfather (who was already belligerent and drunk), his uncle Brad and aunt Denise, and his cousins.

  His dad slipped his hand over Delilah’s body. He squeezed her ass and pulled her into his arms. He grabbed a beer from the table and told them all that Delilah was moving in with him and as soon as his divorce was final, they were getting married.

  The noise. Oh the voices and congratulations and hugs and kisses. Matt watched it all, his stomach churning, his hands balled into fists. No one cared about his mother. No one cared about him.

  He slipped away, unnoticed, and headed back out to the porch. But the quiet and stillness did nothing for him. And when he couldn’t hold it in any longer, Matt leaned over the side of the railing and vomited.

  Every bit of his Thanksgiving dinner, right there in the snow with an empty bottle of whiskey and an empty pack of smokes.

  Empty. Just like him.

  “MIND IF I JOIN YOU?

  Matt shoved off from the railing and turned as Eden Simon stepped outside. Her soft golden hair was covered by a pink knit hat and she’d wrapped herself in a coat two sizes too big—her husband’s he was going to guess.

  She watched him intently and he could tell that the woman had something to say. He just wasn’t in the mood. Not tonight.

  “Sure, but I was just leaving,” he replied, taking a step toward the door.

  “Can you stay a minute or two, Mathew? Is it all right if I call you Mathew?” Her voice was soft, but the look in her eyes was anything but. It wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but her demeanor was decidedly cooler than it had been the last time he’d see her.

  Of course, a lot had changed since then.

  “Mathew is fine.”

  She smiled and walked toward him. “Good. So, Mathew, how are things?”

  Matt took a moment or two and tried to get a read on Grace’s mother. “Things are fine.”

  “And what is it that you do again? Motorcycles or something like that?”

  “No. I work on cars.”

  “Right. So you’re a mechanic.”

  “Not exactly. I restore classic cars. Customize them for clients.”

  “That sounds interesting. Do you have your own shop?”

  “I work from home.”

  “That’s wonderful to have that kind of flexibility.”

  Matt nodded. “Flexibility is good.” He paused. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way Eden, but I’m pretty sure you’re not all that interested in my work life. So let’s not do this. Just ask the question. I won’t be offended.”

  “Fair enough.” Eden shoved her hands into the oversized coat pockets and stared off into space for a few seconds. “I love my daughter and I know that the two of you are involved. I have to be honest with you, Mathew. I have some concerns about that.”

  And there it was. Her truth.

  Matt didn’t want to be rude—not to this woman—and yet, he wasn’t playing this game with Eden Simon or anyone else for that matter.

  He looked her straight in the eye because he wanted her to hear his truth.

  “You probably want me to say that Grace won’t get hurt or that I’ll back off and leave her alone.”

  “It’s not as simple as that, Mathew. You’re older, you live in another state entirely and—“

  “I’m going to have to stop you right there, Eden, because it is as simple as that. Your daughter and I are involved. At the moment I can’t tell you what the future holds, because I don’t happen to own a damn crystal ball. But she’s a grown woman with a mind of her own and I’m not sure that anyone in your family sees that. I know you want to protect her. I get that. She’s worth protecting. But this thing between us, is between us. I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but it’s really none of your business.”

  Eden was silent for a few moments, and maybe he’d rattled her a bit with his frankness, but so be it. “Well, I guess I can thank you for your honesty.”

  She wasn’t happy and he felt like a dick. How could he make her understand something that he wasn’t so sure he understood himself?

  “Grace makes me want to be a better man. She makes me…” Now he was stumbling over his words because he’d said too much. He shook his head and looked away from Eden. “She makes me feel and it’s been a long time. I’m not willing to give that up just yet.”

  Holy. Shit. Had those words just c
ome out of his mouth?

  “But what happens when you are, Mathew? When Grace becomes too much for you and you close yourself off and disappear?” She held her hand up, stopping his reply cold. “You know what? You’re right. It’s none of my business and maybe it was rude to ask. But can you do something for me? Can you promise me you won’t let her fall in love with you?”

  Love? Shit. That was a word that made him uncomfortable and by the look on Eden’s face, she knew it.

  “You see what I’m saying here, Mathew?”

  The two of them stared at each other for a long time and then Eden took a step back. “She’s my baby and I love her. We all do.”

  “I know.”

  “All right. I’ve said what I wanted to say and am heading into the house. Are you coming?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m good out here for a bit.”

  He watched Grace’s mother until she disappeared inside and then turned his attention back to the big, night sky. When had his life gotten so complicated, and on what planet did his name and love come up in the same sentence? He scowled darkly.

  But then he thought of Grace, saw her sweet face in his mind and his chest tightened. He wasn’t capable of love. His past had killed any chance of that.

  Hadn’t it?

  15

  The first annual Alzheimer’s awareness fundraiser was a huge success. The event was a sellout and that didn’t surprise anyone even though it had been postponed an entire week. Most of the scheduled participants such as Josh Hayden weren’t able to make it back, but that didn’t matter.

  New Waterford had a host of local celebrities such as Billie Jo Barker, two-time Olympic medal winner with the women’s hockey team, as well as her sister Betty, the up-and-coming Hollywood ingénue. Of course Betty came with baggage—her husband, bona fide superstar, actor Beau Simon, and the females in attendance were certainly glad she did.

  Held at Billie Jo Barker’s hockey facility, all the money raised was donated to research, and to help families living with Alzheimer’s. It was a heavy thing—the disease—but the committee had been determined to make the day light. Joyous. Happy.