Grace (The Family Simon Book 5) (26 page)

“She was. I guess.”

Justin made an, are-you-kidding-me face. “How can you not know whether someone is your girlfriend or not? Especially when she’s as hot as Grace Simon. Dude, that doesn’t even make sense.”

Matt would have liked to have said something clever, but his brother was right.

“So why did you break up?” Justin tossed his towel and stared at Matt expectantly.

This entire conversation was making Matt more than a little uncomfortable. “We…I…”

Fuck. He had no excuse. He had nothing but the truth and for once he was going to tell it.

“I screwed up. I pushed her away because I’m a dumbass.”

Justin’s eyebrows rose so high he looked comical, and then he laughed. An honest to goodness laugh that eventually kick-started something light and good inside Matt. Before he knew it, he was laughing along with his brother and the two of them must have looked as if they were off their rockers when Dory entered the barn.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. The woman had a hard enough time as it was trudging through the snow, but here she was with a wiggling bundle of fur in her arms. Her pea green coat was too big and the red and black plaid boots she wore sure as shit made some kind of statement. Matt just wasn’t sure what it was.

He walked over to Dory and tickled Rookie under the muzzle. The pup yipped and tried to eat his fingers before licking every inch of his hand with a very wet tongue. “I was just telling Justin that I screwed everything up with Grace.”

Who knew that a chance exchange with his teenage brother would do more good for Matt than therapy ever would have.

“You sure did.” The older woman nodded. “I miss her.”

“Yeah,” Matt murmured.

Dory moved so that he was forced to look into her eyes. “
I miss her
,” she repeated, handing him the puppy. “But you love her.”

“Jesus,” Justin said, turning back to his engine. “The shit’s getting real now.”

Dory put her hands on her hips. “That there gala she was working on is tomorrow night, you know.”

Matt stared at her, wondering where this was going. He knew about the gala. Betty Jo and Beau had headed to the Big Apple the day before.

“It’s in New York City. I hear you can make the drive in ten hours or so, or catch a plane and be there in two.”

Matt’s mouth dropped open and it took a few moments for him to find his voice. “I can’t just leave, Dory. I’ve got responsibilities now. I’ve got Justin and Rosie to look after.” He pointed to the ’56 Plymouth. “That car is supposed to be delivered before the new year and I’ve got another job booked right after.”

“Those are excuses, Mathew. You need Grace. End of story. I know you know that. So why aren’t you doing something about it?”

“I can’t just leave,” he said again, looking to his brother for
something.
But the kid shrugged and reached for a tool. He sure as hell wasn’t offering up any help.

“Sure you can.” Dory winked at him. “And take that dog with you.”

33

T
he gala was in full swing before Grace had a moment to catch her breath. She found a quiet corner, back near the silent auction table, and sipped her champagne. The bubbles made her nose itchy and she rubbed at it, glancing at her watch once more

It was approaching nine o’clock and she still had a few more hours before she left with Beau and Betty.

Nervous at the thought, she smoothed the front of her deep red silk gown. A Gucci, it fit her like a glove—a pencil thin, elegant and simple glove. Strapless, the dress emphasized her chest in a not-so-subtle fashion, and judging from the looks sent her way, her butt looked pretty damn good too.

Betty Jo had told her to wear it home to Michigan. Said Matt would die when he saw her in it.

She giggled and finished her glass of Dom Perignon before handing it off to a waiter and grabbing another. Courage. She needed courage. She took a sip and leaned back against the wall, enjoying the Christmas music and the couples that filled the dance floor. Her parents swept by, their love for each other shining like a beacon among the crowd.

It made Grace’s heart swell.

“I want that,” she whispered. Only with Matt.

“Miss Simon?”

She turned to her intern, Bailey Devlin, who’d been assisting with the gala. A fresh-faced, college grad not unlike herself a few years ago, he’d been a godsend. And he blushed profusely when she smiled at him.

“It’s time,” he said, pointing to the podium at the front of the ballroom. “We’ve got the final figures ready for you.”

“Wonderful.” Grace reached for the crisp envelope. “Let’s do this.”

She grabbed her parents on her way up and signalled at Beau to follow suit. Betty was nowhere to be seen and Beau shrugged when she asked for her whereabouts. The band finished playing and after the crowd grew silent, Grace approached the mike.

The Simon family foundation raised funds extensively, and most of their allocated monies were earmarked for wildlife preservation. But the Christmas gala was different. All monies raised on this night were set aside for children’s charities and this year the funds were being awarded to schools in need. Food programs would be shored up, computers bought for classes and supplies given to those who needed them.

Grace was happy to let the gathered crowd know that the evening had been a success and that they’d blown their monetary goal out of the water. She thanked each and every one of them for their time and money—for their kindness and their giving spirit. She was in the middle of introducing several key players—those who’d helped make the night a success, and yes that included the chef who’d been a pain in her butt—when something happened.

People started murmuring—looking away from her and motioning with their hands. At first she was annoyed because, seriously, how rude was that? But then she heard a yip. Or a bark. Or something that didn’t belong in this grand ballroom. And the crowd parted like the red sea.

It was a bark. A small, excited bark.

Grace stilled. She closed her eyes and tried to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. When she finally managed to get that done, she realized the entire room was dead silent.

All she could hear were her breaths falling from her body. A rustle of silk. A cough. And a whine and a bark.

As if in a dream, she slowly opened her eyes.

“Oh.” She slammed them shut again, because in that moment, she couldn’t deal with what was in front of her. And she didn’t want to fall apart in front of hundreds of strangers.

“Hey.”

“No. Not yet,” she said, barely able to talk.

“Bluebell, look at me.”

The voice was directly in front of her and she had no choice. Grace opened her eyes and knew she would never forget this image as long as she lived.

Matt Hawkins looked like every woman’s dream. The cut of his black tux was exquisite and damn but it looked good on him. His dark hair gleamed beneath the muted lighting, and that devastating smile was aimed directly at her.

The kicker? In his arms was a puppy all tied up in a big red bow. Her puppy. Her Rookie.

“Merry Christmas,” Matt said slowly. “You look—“

She didn’t give him a chance to answer. She took that last step forward and claimed his mouth. Grace kissed Matt as if she was dying and he responded in kind. The fact that they stood in front of hundreds of strangers didn’t matter because, in that moment, they were in a world of their own.

When she finally came up for air, the band had kicked into another set of Christmas music. Aware that a great many of the patrons were still looking at them, and that her family stood several feet away, Grace grabbed Matt’s hand.

“Come with me.”

She kissed Rookie and handed him off to Betty Jo (who’d appeared from nowhere) and then led Matt to the kitchen. The staff was preparing to serve the buffet and they looked up in surprise as Grace and Matt strode through. She didn’t stop walking until she reached a small alcove near the kitchen manager’s office.

“I’m mad at you,” she said, whirling around. “So…” She could barely speak. “So mad.”

For a second, surprise lit his eyes and then a slow, sexy smile drifted across his face. “Bluebell, if that’s the greeting I get when you’re mad, then I hope you’re mad at me for the rest of our lives.”

“I wanted to be the one to surprise you.”

“What do you mean?” His finger traced her exposed collarbone and she had a hard time concentrating.

“I was planning on going home with Betty and Beau.”

“You were?” Now his mouth was tracing the path his fingers had just travelled.

Chest heaving, Grace took a moment. “I was.”

He kissed his way up to her jaw. “And what were you going to do when you got to New Waterford?”

“I was going to…” She groaned and told him that he missed a spot. When he nipped at her earlobe, she shivered. “I was going to have my way with you.”

“What exactly does that mean?” His tongue swept across her ear and then he blew on her, sending a host of shivers rolling across her skin.

“Oh God, you have to stop that.”

Mouth dry, her hands crept up to his face and she held him steady so that she could look into his eyes. This was it. Crunch time. There was so much she wanted to say and she had every intention of saying all of it, but Matt Hawkins did something unexpected.

He pressed his forefinger to her lips and whispered “my turn” into her ear.

His dark eyes glittered and that sensual mouth swept one last kiss across her skin. He stared down at her for a few moments and then cradled her head in his large hands.

“I love you.”

Her heart was going to explode. She would die here. In his arms. Because her heart couldn’t take this.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you and all that blue hair. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me this long to get my shit together.” He flashed a smile, but she saw worry in his eyes. “Truthfully my shit isn’t all that together. Justin is living with me and, uh, I’m not sure how you feel about that.”

“How I feel?” She wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“How you feel about sharing a home with two men. We’ve got stuff to deal with. Justin’s pretty screwed up and he reminds me a lot of myself, but I can’t turn my back on him. I’m all he’s got and you’re what I need so…”

That stupid, stupid, lump was back in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut as she desperately tried to keep herself above water. Her knees were shaking and if Matt wasn’t holding her, Grace was pretty sure she’d be a mess of red silk spread all over the floor.

“Yes,” she finally managed to say. It came out more like a squeak and she wasn’t sure Matt heard her. Her eyes opened and she smiled tremulously. “Yes, I’ll live with you.”

He frowned a bit, and shook his head. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Oh. I…” Crap. How had she got this all wrong? Embarrassed, she attempted to look away but she couldn’t—on account of those large, warm, hands that still had her trapped.

“I want to marry you, Bluebell. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. Because I can’t imagine my life without you and, right now, I can’t remember what it was like before I met you. And I never thought I’d meet a woman who had the power to make me forget all the crap I’ve lived through.”

Damn. Her heart was still going to explode. She was still going to die. Right here. In his arms. She could see her gravestone now.
Grace Simon. Died of too much happiness.

It would happen. Unless she could get it together.

“Okay,” she finally managed to say.

“What was that?”

She didn’t answer. She kissed him like no tomorrow. And the kiss was just like that first kiss they shared beneath a snow-filled sky two years earlier. It was full of passion and promise and spoke volumes. It spoke of a future, and of love and, of forgiveness.

It an imperfect world, it was utterly and wholly…perfect.

EPILOGUE

T
he Barker triplet’s father, Trent Barker, died a few weeks into the new year. It didn’t matter that his end was inevitable or that his family knew it was coming. It hurt. The man was much loved and the community, his children and all those he knew mourned him.

On a cold, gray, Sunday afternoon, Matt and Grace attended the memorial service. Hundreds turned out and much later, the family gathered together at the Barker place. Herschel’s heart was broken—no parent should ever have to bury their child—but the man had backbone like Matt had never seen. He would be okay.

He knew where the girls got their strength.

And now it was late, after midnight, and he couldn’t sleep. He’d woken up with one thought—the envelope Mrs. Jefferson had given him in Phoenix. What the hell had he done with it?

Without waking Grace, he slid from bed and, naked, padded across the bedroom. He searched his armoire but came up empty, and after slipping into a pair of track pants, headed downstairs. His bag. It had to be there.

Matt found it in the utility room, right there behind the
periwinkle weekender
. He searched through it and there, stuffed inside one of the compartments, he found the envelope. He stared at it for a few moments and then headed to kitchen. Rosie was asleep on her bed near the fireplace and Rookie was curled up beside her. The pup raised his head, saw it was Matt and then, with a groan, cuddled into his mother once more

Matt slid onto one of the barstools at his island and opened the envelope. Throat tight, he gazed at the bold script and started to read.

M
ATHEW

A lot of things go through a man’s head when he’s told that there is no more time. And I’m almost out of it. I have a lot to say and no strength to say it. I’ll do my best.

I
WILL NEVER FORGIVE
myself for turning my back on you. I won’t try to explain why or how it happened. I just hope that one day you can forgive me. I’m not being selfish when I say this, but I think it might help you.

I
’VE KEPT
my eye on you over the years and I know that things haven’t been easy. I’m sorry I didn’t have the strength to reach out. Sorry I screwed things up. Pride will do that to a man but I’ve seen the man you’ve become and I’m proud of you. I want you to know that.