Walking on Sunshine (25 page)

“Sure.” With a quick nod, he hurried out the door and ran right into the wind and rain like it was nothing. Feeling a bit guilty, Grace watched from the doorway while the top slowly rose upward and then folded downward against the windshield. He swiftly latched it down and
then hurried back to the building. “Here, I thought you might want your purse. It was under the dash but getting wet.”

“Oh.” Grace took the Coach purse and hugged it to her chest. “Thank you so much. I'm sorry you got drenched.” But Grace wasn't sorry she got to see the black shirt clinging to him like a second skin. He was muscular but not in a beefy, iron-pumping way—more like his physique was a result of physical labor.

“No big deal.” He shoved his fingers through his wet hair.

“The car's a rental, so I didn't know how to put the top up.” Grace felt her cheeks grow a tad warm but she lifted her chin. “I should have paid more attention during the demonstration.”

“There must be instructions.”

“Oh, I guess there's a manual in the glove box.” Grace shrugged and then winced. “I just hope the interior dries out.”

“Well, it's definitely soaking wet, but it's going to be warm and sunny tomorrow, so you can put the top down later and it will dry out just fine.” He extended his hand. “By the way, I'm Mason Mayfield.”

“Grace Gordon. Oh wait. Mayfield? You must be Mattie's brother!” She shook his hand, relieved that she was finally on the right track.

“I am. Nice to meet you, Grace.”

“Come to think of it, I did see pictures of you in the wedding album that Mattie showed me while she was in London when Garret taped
Sing for Me
.” She thought that Mattie's brothers were super hot in tuxes. “I'm Garret's half sister. Sophia's sister.”

“Wow.” Mason tipped his head to the side. “I wouldn't have guessed that you were Sophia's sister.”

“I know. We don't look alike at all.” Grace grinned. “Or act alike.”

“Or sound alike.”

“I spent way more time in London than Sophia. The
accent kind of comes and goes, depending upon my mood, according to my mother, anyway.”

“I did meet your mother at Mattie and Garret's wedding. Lovely lady. I'm surprised that you weren't there.”

Grace shook her head and groaned. “I got snowed in at the Denver airport and missed my flight. Trust me, I tried to find a way to get there like Steve Martin in the movie
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
, but it was a total fail.”

“That's too bad. The wedding was a good time. So, were you in Denver skiing?” The question was innocent enough, but the slight arch of his eyebrow got under her skin a little bit. Now that he knew who she was, Mason most likely thought she was a spoiled diva going on endless holidays and shopping sprees. She wasn't and she didn't.

“Business,” Grace answered rather crisply but then felt as she as if she were being a bit rude. After all, he'd just run out into a raging storm on her behalf. “I'm a horrible skier. The fact that my name is Grace is kind of funny, actually. I'm prone to accidents mostly because I'm looking somewhere other than where I'm going.”

“Well, be careful in here. There are some things you don't want to fall into.” He pointed to the big vat full of frothy stuff.

“I will.” Grace hated that because she was the daughter of Becca Gordon, former fashion model once married to rock legend Rick Ruleman, she and Sophia were thought to be rich, spoiled brats. Neither she nor Sophia rode on the coattails of anyone, including their biological father, who worried more about making money than spending time with his daughters. She was about to tell Mason what she did for a living when lightning flashed through the windows, followed by a deafening boom of thunder. Grace yelped and then shivered.

“Oh, hey, are you scared of storms?”

“Not so much, but this seems to be a quite a doozy. I am a bit cold, though. I have dry clothes in my suitcase but . . .”

“Hey, don't worry. I'll be right back with something dry.”

“Thanks, but I don't want you to go to any trouble.”

Mason shook his head. “I'm not about to watch you shiver.” He flicked a glance toward the front window. “And the storm doesn't seem like it's going to let up anytime soon.”

“Okay, then, something dry would be splendid.”

“I'll be right back.”

Grace watched Mason walk away, finally getting to admire his jean-clad butt.
Yep, very nice.
She took a deep breath, finally able to calm down.

Grace looked around, intrigued by all of the machinery. While she did enjoy drinking good craft ale now and then, she'd never given much thought about the actual brewing process. From the looks of things in the huge room, brewing beer was much more complicated than she would have imagined.

Rain pounded on what she vaguely remembered was a tin roof, and although she felt a damp chill, the sound was somehow soothing after her rather stressful drive from the airport. Normally she loved to drive. Having lived most of her adult life in London, she commuted by the Tube, walked the streets, or traveled by taxi. So driving through the countryside had always been one of her favorite pastimes on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Grace grinned, thinking, yes, she often got lost ending up in a village where she explored shops and dined at local restaurants, often with her mother. But Grace hadn't had a lazy or carefree day in a very long time. Of course, all of that had changed as of last week, and now she had more time on her hands than she knew what to do with . . . and it felt rather odd.

Grace noticed that the metal machinery gleamed and the smooth concrete floor appeared spotless. Because it was her nature, she did have to wonder how much money it took to start up a brewery and what Mason's long-term plans were for the business. Lost in thought, Grace
turned when she heard his boots clunking across the concrete floor.

Mason walked toward her with long strides. He'd changed into a dry white T-shirt that had the Mayfield Marina logo scripted in green across the front. The jeans were replaced by gray sweatpants and he carried a big plastic bag. He handed it to her. “We sell a few racks of clothes over at the marina. There should be everything you need in there.”

“Thanks. Wait. You went all the way to the marina?”

“It's just a short jog down the road. I was already wet.” The slight grin returned.

“Really? So where is Walking on Sunshine Bistro, then?”

“Across from the marina, up on the hill a little ways.”

“Wow.” Grace shook her head slowly. “So I've been this close the entire time?”

“Yeah, you weren't too terribly lost, if that makes you feel any better.”

When Mason handed Grace the bag, she felt a little tingle at the touch of his fingers. “No! I feel worse. I've been right here all along.”

“You must have missed the right turn. Did you drive by some cabins by a lake?”

“Um, yeah.” Grace nodded. “Like three times. Don't tell me: Is that where Mattie and Garret live?”

“No, they live in a cabin overlooking the river. It's actually within walking distance from here too.”

Grace groaned.

“Hey, don't feel so bad. GPS and cell phone reception can be sketchy out here, especially when the weather gets crazy.”

“Crazy? I thought you said this was a pop-up thunderstorm.”

Mason shrugged his wide shoulders. “I was wrong,” he said, and as if on cue, lightning flashed, followed by a deep boom of thunder. “A tornado watch was just issued a few minutes ago.”

“What?” Grace swallowed hard, wondering if the tin roof would handle a tornado or peel back like the lid of a sardine can. “Should we go for cover or something?”

“I have an alert system on my phone. If we get an alarm or siren, we'll head into a closet or the bathroom. We don't have a basement.”

“Oh, boy. And to think, this day started out so normal.”

“It's only a tornado watch, not a warning. It'll be fine.”

“It's been my experience that when people say
It will be fine
is when all hell breaks loose.”

“Is that so?” Mason actually full-on smiled, softening his features. Grace wondered if he knew that his smile was a lethal weapon that could render the female population defenseless. “Well, if all hell breaks loose, I'll keep you safe.” The smile faded and she could tell that he meant business.

“Good to know,” Grace said in a breezy tone, but she believed him. Although Grace had been taught by her mother to be independent, something about having Mason protect her made her feel warm in spite of the damp clothing.

“I'll keep an eye on the weather.”

“Keep
both
eyes on the weather.”

Mason chuckled. “Okay, I will. I think you'll find everything you need in the bag. The bathroom is over there on the left.” Mason pointed over his shoulder. “As a reward, I'll get you a bottle of ale while we wait out the storm.”

“A storm that could spawn a tornado. I guess if I'm going to go flying into the sky, I might as well have a beer in my hand.”

“I'll drink to that. So what do you prefer? Something mild? A brown ale? An APA blonde?”

Grace had to hide her grin. She could tell by his expression that he thought she was a wine or martini kind of girl, and while he was right, about a year ago she'd gone to a beer-tasting festival with some girlfriends and
been surprised at how many she'd enjoyed. “Actually, Mason, I'm a fan of something dark and more intense.”

“You don't say?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his boots. Since when did she find work boots sexy?
Since right now.

“Do you like chocolate?”

“More than breathing.”

“Well, then, I've got you covered. I'll bring you a light medium-body porter that delivers lots of chocolate flavor.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“I hope you'll think so. It took me a few tries to come up with something I liked,” Mason said, and then turned away.

“I'm sure I will. . . .” Grace's voice trailed off softly as she watched his progress. Something warm and delicious washed over her, and she was startled to realize that the foreign feeling was desire. Her mother had been right. She'd been working so hard on Girl Code Cosmetics for the past two years that romance hadn't entered her mind all that much, but it had just resurfaced with a vengeance. Grace was surprised her clothes didn't steam dry right there on her body.

Grace was surprised by her instant reaction to Mason Mayfield. She usually took a while to warm up to a guy, starting with mild attraction that lead to conversation and then maybe a date. As she walked toward the bathroom, she mulled over her attraction to Mason. Perhaps she was used to city-living metrosexual men who, by contrast, made country boy Mason seem so virile.

Just hormones,
Grace thought, trying to shrug it off.

Regardless, Mason was one sexy man. She opened the door and flipped on the light, but then made the mistake of looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Holy hell, I look like I've already been through a tornado,” she said, thinking that the instant attraction most likely wasn't mutual.

“Oh, stop,” Grace said, reminding herself that she was
only in Cricket Creek to help Sophia out at Walking on Sunshine Bistro and to visit with Garret while they all waited with bated breath for his baby girl to arrive. According to her mother, Garret and Mattie hadn't settled on a name yet, even though her mother had tossed endless suggestions at them. After the birth of the baby, Grace would most likely move back to London, where she would start up another company now that she'd sold Girl Code, her wildly successful line of edgy urban cosmetics. Getting involved with anyone local, including sexy Mason, wouldn't work out in the end, and she needed to remember that important fact.

With a groan, Grace peeled her wet clothing off and then dug inside the plastic bag to see what he'd brought for her to change into. She located white sweatpants with
Mayfield Marina
scripted in green lettering down one leg. A light green scooped-neck T-shirt and matching hoodie were in the bag as well. “Nice,” she said with a smile.

After slipping into the dry clothing, Grace dug around in her purse for a comb and any cosmetics she could find. A few minutes later, she'd pulled her hair back into submission and added some eyeliner and lipstick. Wrinkling her nose at her reflection, she said, “Well, that's as good as it's going to get.”

And then the lights went out.

For a moment, Grace simply stood as still as a statue while thinking in a rather calm manner that she'd never experienced such pitch-black darkness. Surely her eyes would adjust and she'd be able to see enough to make her way out of the bathroom. She blinked and then squinted, but she couldn't see anything. She did the classic holding her hand in front of her face. Nope . . . nothing.

Grace considered herself to be a pretty brave person, but she'd never been a fan of the dark. To this day, she had a night-light in her bathroom. Grace swallowed hard and her heart thudded. Should she yell for Mason? No,
surely he'd come looking for her in a few minutes. After all, he knew where she'd gone, Grace thought, and then snapped her fingers, remembering that she had the flashlight app on her smart phone. She fumbled around, bumped into the sink, hit the toilet seat, and came up against the the wall before finally locating her purse. “Yes!” she said when she found her phone, but her triumph was short-lived when she realized that her battery was dead.

With a growl of frustration, Grace decided she needed to exit the bathroom and give a shout for Mason. She dropped her phone back into her purse and located the doorknob, somehow thinking that when the door was open, she'd have at least moonlight shining through the windows or something.