Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
MACK
H istory repeats itself. That’s what they say. I never would have put much stock in the phrase until lately. But after hearing Helena’s story, the pieces of the puzzle come together. Grace grew up watching her father control her mother. It’s what she thought a successful relationship was. And it was her greatest downfall.
Until the day she decided for herself.
God knows how very grateful I am she did.
I sit in silence as the two women share stories at a lone park bench somewhere in the suburbs of Harrisburg. Tension racks to an all-time high as Grace relays with somber words what happened since the day she left their family home. Her mother’s face works through every emotion possible. As does mine. I know Grace’s story. She’s shared it with me, in snippets and long talks. Hearing it again is no less painful than the first time.
A fresh hell.
Although it’s over, and she is safe, my heart breaks for every day she needed someone to look out for her and didn’t have them. I have to divert my gaze when Grace tells her mom about the night she fled Raymond. Helena’s face is plain fuckin’ heartbreaking.
I want to kill that motherfucker so bad it hurts.
With any luck, he’ll be holed up in prison for a long while. And when the day comes he’s released, I’ll be waiting for him to step foot on the ranch. He’ll be buried under one of Harry’s precious damn fence posts. Deep inside the stone-cold earth. Only thing he’s good for is compost, anyhow.
Overdramatic—maybe. Luckily for the idiot, Grace has a restraining order on him. If he decides to ignore it? He’ll end up on the wrong end of my wrath.
“. . . kinlay?”
I shake my head, refocusing on the women in front of me. “Yeah?” The word is raw.
“I was wondering if I could put Grace and you up for the night.” Helena looks at me with a hopeful gaze.
“Grace?” I ask, studying her reaction.
“I would love that, Mama.” She hugs her mother.
Right there—the moment that makes this entire goose chase worth it. What we came for. We make our way through the park and down a street. The entrance to Westwood Village comes into sight, and Grace bumps into my side, squeezing my hand. I glance down at her, finding the biggest grin on her face. The happiest she’s been in days.
“What?” I ask quizzically, kicking up a lone brow.
She pushes up on her toes, tiptoeing as we walk. Her mouth brushes my neck as she tilts her head up. “How am I going to keep my hands off you in Mama’s home?”
I turn my head and nip her ear. “I have ways of keeping you quiet, gorgeous girl, while you come around my cock. And can promise you multiple orgasms while I’m at it.” I wind my arm behind her neck and slide my hand over her mouth. Her head tosses back with a laugh that warms my soul. Brown locks sway over her back, tussling over her shoulders.
“I’ll see you keep that promise, Mackinlay Rawlins.”
Our luggage is still hanging from my other hand. How far have I toted these bags today? The symbolism of the whole day isn’t lost on me. I’ll carry Grace’s baggage ‘til the end of the earth, with my last breath. To say I’m the savior here would be a grave misconception. If anyone saved anyone, she saved herself. And dragged me up along with her on the way.
“Oh.” Grace turns back, arms outward like she set to spin around. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something for weeks.”
“Yeah?” I chuckle. “What is it?”
“What’s the deal with the captain thing?”
My fingers dig into Grace’s throat. Her eyes flare, telling me she wants more. She wants my hands rough on her body. Her way of showing me her strength. Added bonus, it turns her on faster than a grass fire in a lightning storm. Her back arches, knees dug into the picnic blanket I laid under the tree. At the base of the mountain, Trigger and Sergeant are tied to the closest old shade tree.
I’m not one hundred percent comfortable on a horse yet, but I trust Trig. Always have. We took it steady. Besides, there is no way I’m passing up the only day off Grace has had for the two weeks since we came home from Pennsylvania. Her hips roll and my cock twitches. The tight grip her walls have on me sends me higher with every move she makes.
“Mack, god, I have missed you.” Her words are raspy. Her eyes close as her head tilts back. I loosen my grip on her throat and clamp my teeth over a nipple. A whimper rattles past my palm.
“Fuck, Grace. Sweet Jesus. When you do that with your hips...”
Heat pools low in my spine. Electricity concentrating, I’m set to explode. I send the most errant thoughts into my head, desperate to hold off. Today, this picnic, is special.
Like life-changing special.
“Oh god, Mack. Ohh—” She’s out of breath. She’s close.
I run my tongue over her nipple and tug it with my lips as I send my fingertips to brush over her clit. The sweetest moan turns to a breathy cry. Her walls clamp around me.
“Fuck, gorgeous . . .” I hiss.
Her head dips, hands snapping onto my jaw. Eyes lined up, she comes, wrapped around me. Eye contact. Hearts, souls, and every other part of her, and of me, joined.
“I love you,” she rasps.
The sensation is too much. My heart is loved too well. The heat in my spine runs directly to my balls, and I explode inside her. A long, heady growl slips past my barely parted lips as I thrust up into her. She rides every wave between us, her orgasm spiraling along with my own.
Her hips slow. Brushing her hair back, I study every detail of her beautiful face. Her shoulders heave, those stunning breasts brushing against my sweaty chest. Four positions and three orgasms for Grace, and we are spent. In the best way possible.
“So, I’ve been thinking...” Grace dots a kiss to my forehead, one to my nose, and one to each cheek before trailing tiny kisses along my jawline.
“Should I be worried?” I say with a chuckle.
“I figured out the captain thing.”
I suck in a breath, leaning back with my hands planted on the blanket behind me. “Oh yeah, what do you think it is?”
She leans back a little, one fine finger tracing the peaks and valleys of my chest. “So, Louisa is Harry’s captain. Addy is Hudson’s and Ruby is Reed’s.”
She’s got it, alright.
I smile at her, but she frowns. My smile slips a little and I wait for what’s coming next.
“So . . . I was thinking tha?—”
“Grace, wait.”
Her face falls. I sit up and grab her shoulders. The disappointment on her face is a knife to my heart. We are not doin’ this naked. I want to ask her . Kneel down on one knee and all that shit. Make it a moment she will treasure. Not some post-sex conversation, akin to a chat about what goes on the damn grocery list.
She moves off my lap and gets dressed.
Silently.
I clean up the best I can and pull on my jeans. As I tug on my shirt and pop my head through, she is packing up. Fuck.
Well, now I know where her head is at, at least.
Makes this next part a little easier.
She’s putting the plates into the basket as I squat down and rest a hand over hers. “Stop, gorgeous.”
“It’s fine. I know I’m too young. You’re more than ten years older than me, Mack. You’ve probably never thought about me like th—As your wi—You know what, it’s—” She sinks onto her heels.
“After everything you and I have been through, you really think I would do this life with anyone else?” I turn her face toward mine.
Silver lines her eyes.
Dammit.
She sniffs. I tamp down the smile that’s threatening to turn up my lips. It’s not funny. But seeing her riled up over the possibility of not being Mrs. Mackinlay Rawlins is so damn sweet. Honestly, it’s goddamn adorable.
Like everything else in our life, the moment I have been waiting for since her birthday party is turning out a little imperfect.
“I don’t know.” Her gaze turns harder.
There’s my girl.
Give it back to me, Gracie. Don’t take my shit.
“Reckon you can readjust the girths before we head up the mountain?” I ask.
She sighs and pushes to her feet, heading for Trigger. I follow a little way behind. Once she tightens his girth, she moves to the other side of Sergeant. I slip a hand into the saddle bag behind the fender. The small blue velvet box sits snug in there, waiting just like I am.
“All done,” she says, appearing at Trigger’s head. Her palm rubs his head, and he leans into her. “I’ll grab up the blanket and stuff.” She disappears.
“Still a lost cause for her, I see. Guess that makes two of us, buddy.” I rub his neck. The blanket and basket are bundled away, and I wait for Grace to mount before swinging up onto Trigger. My old work shirt is tugged by the chilly wind as we ride home at a steady walk. I pull my hat down. The sun is low, with winter almost here.
Down on the flat, we wade through the swaying golden grass. The same grass Grace paints. The homestead comes into view, and the golden rays of the day’s dying light splinter over the horizon, framing the ranch where we have lived, loved, fought, picked up the pieces, and weathered our storms together. I pull Trigger to a halt and swing out of the saddle.
Grace rides for home. Standing in the grass, I wait for her to realize I’m not following. A handful of heartbeats later, she twists in her seat, a hand on the back of her saddle. Her head is tilted, eyes squinting against the fading light. The darkness behind me is a stark contrast to the setting halo that has backlit her. I drop the reins and rifle through the saddle bag until I have the velvet box in my hand. I push it into my back pocket.
“Mack, what’s wrong?” she calls back, turning Sergeant around and pushing him into a fast walk.
I meet her in the middle. “Might be stone bruised. You should check Sarge.”
“Oh shit.” She swings down, her hair flying over her shoulders, worried eyes following the hand she runs down Sergeant’s front leg. The light turns almost orange, and the first star pops in the sky.
I drop to one knee behind her.
“Gracie, gorgeous, he’s fine.”
“No, I need to check him. He might—” She spins back and freezes. The horse plants his hoof back to the ground. “Mackinlay...”
Her eyes widen, and I swear she stops breathing.
“Wha—what are you doing?” she rasps. “I thought...”
I smile up at her and take her hands in mine. “Grace Elizabeth Weston. You have brought color where there was only black and white, grey at best. Breathed life into a broken and very lost man. Filled his heart so full it grew exponentially, so much it can never return to what it was. I don’t ever want it to.”
“Mack,” she breathes.
“Gracie, there is only one thing I would change about you.”
She frowns. “Oh?”
I tug the box from my pocket and hold it out to her, flipping the lid on the ring with the princess cut sapphire framed with diamonds on a titanium band.
“Yeah, gorgeous. Your last name. Will you marry me, Grace?”
Her lips parted, her face is part stunned, part twisted with something I can’t place. She sucks in a breath, and her face breaks. I push to my feet, heart hammering into my rib cage, my gut sinking like a stone. As I fold myself around her, she nuzzles my neck. Her safe place.
Fuck.
This is supposed to be a memory for us to treasure, and instead?—
“Of course I will marry you,” she whispers, lifting her head. Those blue eyes meet mine. “But Mack?”
I hold her at arm’s length and study her face.
“My heart will always belong to Trigger.” She breaks into a laugh, tears streaming down her face.
“Sweet Jesus, Grace. Give a man a damn heart attack.”
She grips my coat, laughing into my chest. I smack her ass and drop to my knee again. This time I’m not gettin’ up until my ring is on her pretty finger. Her laughter dies out and her face pulls with emotion. I take her hand and slide the sapphire onto her finger.
Perfect fit.
The ring on her finger.
Her heart in mine.
The captain to my ship. The woman I love. Who loves me so much she moved my world for me, giving me the chance to live again.
She tugs me to my feet. I groan against the ache blooming in my lower back and hip.
“Time to get you home, my love.” Her hands brush over my jawline. Her lips cover mine. I close the space between us and kiss her with every part of me. The good, the bad, and the parts she fixed when she didn’t have to. She opens for me. I claim her.
My Gracie.
My wife.