3. Grace
Chapter 3
Grace
I stare at the papers scattered across my desk, trying to force my brain to focus. The words blur together, just a sea of numbers and letters that refuse to form any sense. But it’s not the spreadsheet’s fault. No, the real culprit is the man I can’t seem to get out of my head. Kane Mitchell.
His name echoes in my thoughts like a bad song I can’t stop humming. It’s been a week—a whole damn week—since that night at Hooplas, and I’m no closer to shaking the memories than I was the morning after. His hands on me, his mouth claiming mine, the heat between us that set my whole world on fire—it’s all still so vivid, it might as well be happening right now.
And I hate it.
I tap my pen against the desk, the sharp rhythm doing nothing to drown out the noise in my head. I’m supposed to be reviewing accounts, figuring out some nonsense for my boss, but every time I glance at the screen, all I see is him. That smug grin, the one he gave me right before everything spiraled out of control.
This never happened . That’s what I told him. Like saying it out loud could erase the whole thing. But it did happen, and no amount of pretending will change that. My body remembers—every single inch of it remembers the way his hands felt, the way he made me feel like I was unraveling and holding on all at once.
“Dammit,” I mutter, tossing the pen down in frustration. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, and I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing.
I stand, pacing the length of my office, hoping movement will somehow clear my head. But the second I stop; my mind drags me right back to him. To us. To that night. Why did it have to be him? Of all the men in Hibiscus Harbor—hell, of all the men in the world—why did it have to be Kane Mitchell?
The guy has been a pain in my ass since the moment we met. He thrives on getting under my skin, on pushing every button I have until I’m ready to explode. And somehow, I let him do just that—only instead of blowing up, I fell apart. Right there on a damn conference table.
I rub my temples, trying to massage away the pounding ache that’s been building there. This is supposed to be the time I focus on work, on moving forward, on not thinking about Kane. But no matter how hard I try, every road leads right back to him.
My phone buzzes on the desk, jolting me out of my thoughts. I grab it, relieved for the distraction, and see Kate’s name flashing on the screen.
“Hey, you,” I say, forcing a brightness into my voice that I don’t really feel.
“Grace!” Kate’s voice is a burst of sunshine, as always. “I’ve been meaning to call. Are you free tonight? I’m having a wedding meeting at my shop at seven, and I need my maid of honor!”
I smile despite myself. Kate’s been in full-on bridal mode ever since Hudson proposed, and honestly? I couldn’t be happier for her. She deserves this—the love, the happiness, the fresh start after everything she’s been through.
“Of course,” I say. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Kate squeals, her excitement practically vibrating through the phone. “I knew I could count on you. You’re my rock, Grace. Always.”
The warmth in her voice chips away at the tension knotted in my chest, and for a moment, I let myself feel the happiness she’s radiating. “You know I’ll always be here for you. It’s going to be perfect, Kate. You and Hudson? You deserve everything.”
We chat for a few minutes about dresses and venues, her enthusiasm contagious. But when we hang up, reality settles back over me.
Hudson’s best man.
It’s going to be Kane. Of course, it’s going to be Kane. He and Hudson have been best friends forever, and there’s no way Hudson would pick anyone else. Which means I’ll be spending the next however-many-weeks standing across from him at rehearsals, dinners, and—oh, joy—the wedding itself.
Fuck me. Oh wait. He already has. Shit.
My stomach twists as the realization sinks in. I’ll have to see him. Talk to him. Pretend like nothing happened. Like I didn’t let him see parts of me no one else has ever seen. Like I didn’t completely lose myself in him for one reckless, unforgettable night.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, sinking back into my chair.
This is about Kate, I remind myself. It’s her moment, her happiness. I can’t let whatever this is with Kane ruin that. I’ll deal with him. I’ll plaster on a smile, say all the right things, and make it through the wedding madness without anyone suspecting a thing.
But as I sit there, staring at the computer screen in front of me, one thought keeps circling back, refusing to be ignored .
Why does it have to be him?
The hallway is eerily quiet as I grab my bag, shut down my computer, and head toward the exit, my heels clicking softly against the tile floor. Today’s been a disaster from start to finish, and the cherry on top is Kate’s call from earlier. I should be excited—my best friend is over the moon about her wedding plans. But the idea of spending the evening in close proximity to Kane Mitchell has turned my mood sour.
I tell myself it’ll be fine, that I’ll get through the night unscathed. But I know better. Kane has a talent for needling me in ways no one else can. Worse, I’m not just irritated—I’m affected, and that’s what really pisses me off.
As I approach the reception desk, I notice someone standing there—a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair that looks perfectly messy in that effortlessly casual way. He leans slightly against the desk, exuding confidence, his back to me as he chats with Yolanda, the receptionist. Even from this angle, I can tell he’s handsome. The kind of handsome that gets a second look.
I try to keep walking, but as I pass, he glances over his shoulder, and his profile stops me in my tracks. Strong jawline, piercing blue eyes, and a smile so effortless it probably wins people over before they even realize what’s happening. My steps falter, and I have to remind myself to keep moving.
He’s new. Definitely new. Maybe a client? My curiosity is piqued, but I don’t let it show as I continue toward the exit.
Normally, a guy like him wouldn’t faze me. Sure, he’s gorgeous, but I’m not the type to get swept up over a nice face. At least, I wasn’t before Kane. Now, my entire compass feels off-kilter. My instincts scream at me to prove something—to myself, to Kane, hell, maybe to the universe. Prove that one night with Kane hasn’t left me completely derailed.
What if I just asked him out? The thought is absurd, but it clings to me, whispering promises of distraction and vindication. If I could go out with someone like this guy—charming, polished, completely not Kane—it might remind me that Kane Mitchell isn’t the sun my world revolves around.
I slow at the door, glancing back at the reception desk. The stranger’s still there, his confidence apparent in the way he leans in to talk to Yolanda. This could be simple, easy. A clean slate. But as I hover there, my fingers brushing the handle of the door, the idea starts to sour. It feels wrong. Forced. Like I’m trying too hard to run from something that isn’t going to let me go.
“Grace!” Yolanda’s voice jolts me from my thoughts.
I turn back reluctantly, plastering on a polite smile. “Yes?”
“This is Jason Marino,” Yolanda says, waving me over. “He just signed on as our newest client.”
Jason turns fully now, his eyes meeting mine as he steps forward, hand extended. Up close, he’s even better-looking than I thought—clean-shaven with a sharp suit that fits like it was made for him.
“Grace,” he says warmly, his handshake firm. “It’s great to meet you. Yolanda tells me you’ll be leading my account?”
“That’s right,” I reply, schooling my features into professional neutrality. “Welcome to the firm, Jason. I’m looking forward to diving into your financials.”
He chuckles, brushing a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that somehow works. “Thanks. My last accounting team really left a mess. I’m glad to have someone who knows what they’re doing.”
His easy charm makes me smile, but it’s a distant warmth—nothing like the fire Kane ignites with a single look. It’s disappointing, honestly, because Jason checks every box a guy should.
“I’ll get up to speed on everything and be in touch soon,” I say, glancing at my watch. “I’ve got an appointment to get to, but it was nice meeting you.”
“You, too,” Jason says, flashing another one of those effortless smiles.
I wave at Yolanda, offer Jason a polite nod, and head out the door. Once I’m in the car, I let out a sigh, the encounter already fading from my mind. Nice as Jason is, he’s no match for the storm brewing inside me thanks to a certain firefighter.
By six-thirty, I’m standing in front of my closet, staring at the rows of clothes like they hold the answers to all life’s questions. I shouldn’t care what I wear tonight—it’s just Kate’s shop, just a wedding meeting. Kane isn’t even worth a second thought. And yet, here I am, debating between casual and polished, because some part of me wants to feel... what? Confident? In control? Like Kane hasn’t completely scrambled my brain?
“Pull it together,” I mutter, grabbing a blouse and jeans and slipping them on. I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror, then grab my keys, stealing myself for the night ahead.
Whatever happens, I tell myself, I can handle it. But as I close the door behind me, a knot tightens in my chest, and I can’t ignore the truth.
The real battle tonight isn’t with Kane. It’s with myself.
I arrive at Kate’s Kakes fifteen minutes early, the jingling of the bell above the door announcing my arrival. The shop smells faintly of lavender and sugar, the kind of warm, inviting scent that feels like a hug. It should be calming, but my nerves are jangling like I just downed three espressos. Tonight is all about wedding planning, and I’m determined to keep things professional. No distractions. No overthinking. Definitely no him .
“Grace! You’re early!” Kate pops her head out from behind a display case of pastries, her smile radiant.
“I figured I’d get a head start,” I say, forcing a grin. “Where do you need me?”
She waves me toward a small round table in the corner, already set with color swatches, sketches, and what looks like a cupcake tower. It’s all so perfectly Kate —bright, cheerful, and meticulously organized. I take a seat and try to ignore the knot tightening in my stomach. This is about Kate and Hudson. Tonight isn’t about me.
Or him.
The door swings open, the bell jingling again, and I swear the room tilts. Kane walks in, his dark hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed—or someone’s bed. Effortlessly handsome, as always, in a black Henley that clings to his broad shoulders and dark jeans that make his legs look impossibly long. Our eyes lock, and the corner of his mouth tips up in that infuriatingly smug grin. Damn him.
“Kane,” I mutter under my breath, already regretting every decision that led me to this moment.
“Gracie,” he drawls, his voice low and smooth, with just enough bite to make my blood boil. He leans against the doorframe like he owns the place, his eyes skating over me in a way that feels entirely too intentional.
I grit my teeth. “Don’t call me that.”
He steps closer, his boots heavy on the wooden floor, and his voice dips lower, just enough to make my pulse spike. “What should I call you, then? Miss Fletcher? Or is ‘beautiful’ still okay—when I’m touching you, that is?”
Heat floods my face, anger, and something else I refuse to name rushing through me. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re predictable.” His grin widens, but there’s an edge to his tone, something darker lingering beneath the teasing. He strolls over to the table like he’s been invited to some kind of royal feast. Kate bustles in, oblivious to the silent war raging between us, and Hudson follows close behind, a hand resting on her lower back.
The rest of the group trickles in over the next few minutes—the Walking Ladies, Riley, and Mia—all carrying their unique mix of chaos and charm. The air in the room lightens with laughter and chatter, but I can’t fully relax. Not with Kane sitting directly next to me at the planning table, his long legs stretching out.
The meeting kicks off with lighthearted chatter, everyone teasing Kate about her color-coded charts and over-the-top enthusiasm. It’s almost enough to distract me from the way Kane’s knee brushes mine under the table. Almost.
“Okay, okay, let’s get to the good stuff,” Kate says, her eyes sparkling. “Roles for the big day.” Kate claps her hands. “First up, Grace—maid of honor. Obviously.”
“And, of course,” Kate continues, “Hudson’s best man is Kane.”
Of course, he is. I plaster on a smile that feels more like a grimace. There’s a round of cheers and applause, and I try not to notice Kane’s eyes on me.
“Lori, Hudson’s mom, will be our ring bearer,” Kate announces, beaming. “She couldn’t be here tonight but she’s thrilled.”
“And Gladys,” Hudson adds with a laugh, “will be giving away the bride.”
“She’s been like a second grandmother to me since my grandma passed away.” Kate adds.
“A damn good choice,” Kane says, and for a fleeting moment, there’s no sarcasm in his voice.
“I’ve been practicing my strut,” Gladys says, adjusting her wide-brimmed hat. “Just wait, kids. I’m gonna steal the show. ”
The Walking Ladies erupt in giggles as Kate adds, “Betty, Florence, and Joan will be our flower girls.”
“We insisted, and honestly, how could anyone say no to us?” Betty cackles.
“And I’ll handle the dresses,” Mia chimes in. “For Kate, the flower girls, the ring bearer, and, of course, the men’s tuxes.”
Riley stands, clipboard in hand, all business. “Which brings us to logistics. As your wedding planner, I’ll coordinate timelines, confirm vendors, and make sure everything goes off without a hitch.”
“Oh, and one more thing,” Kate looks at both me and Kane. “We want a co-ed bachelor/bachelorette party. Got it?”
“Ah, man, that sucks.” Kane argues at Hudson who just bows his head.
“Sorry, man. Gotta go with Kate on this.” He laughs at the absolute heartache Kane displays to the group.
“I’ll make sure it goes off without a blip, Kate. I’ve gotcha.” I tell her as I give Kane an eat shit and grin look.
As the discussion rolls on, Kane takes every opportunity to subtly challenge me—questioning my ideas, suggesting alternatives that are just ridiculous enough to rile me up without making him look like an ass. The group laughs, but I know what he’s doing. He thrives on getting on my nerves, and I hate how good he is at it.
“Maybe we should ditch the color scheme altogether,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. “Go full chaos. Rainbow tuxes for the groomsmen.”
Kate gasps. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” Kane teases. “Gracie here would look great in a neon pink dress.”
I glare at him. “Maybe we should put you in a neon pink dress. It’ll match your ego. ”
Hudson bursts out laughing, clapping Kane on the back. “She’s got you there, man.”
We break for snacks, and Kate pulls me aside, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Girl, you and Kane have chemistry .”
I choke on my cupcake. “We have animosity, not chemistry.”
She grins knowingly. “Sure, Grace. Whatever you say.”
Before I can argue, Kane saunters over, holding a cup of coffee. “Gracie, got a minute?”
Kate makes herself scarce as I freeze, caught between irritation and curiosity. “What?”
He holds my gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “I’ll help with the bachelor and bachelorette party. You know, keep things... interesting.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
He shrugs, but his smirk is gone. “Because I want to.”
For a moment, I forget how to breathe. His tone is softer, almost sincere, and it throws me completely off balance. But just as quickly, the tension snaps back into place.
“Fine,” I say, crossing my arms. “But it’s going to be tasteful. Nothing sleazy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, his smirk returning, and I swear I see a flash of something darker in his gaze before he turns and walks away.
When the meeting finally ends, everyone starts to gather their things. I’m halfway to the door, desperate for an escape, when Kane steps in front of me, blocking my path.
“Move,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend.
He doesn’t budge. Instead, he leans in, his voice low and rough. “This is going to be fun, Gracie. All those rehearsals, all that time spent together. I can’t wait.”
I glare at him, my heart pounding. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not getting under my skin.”
“Funny,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to my lips. “You’re already under mine.”
The air between us shifts, heavy with something I can’t name. My breath catches, but I force myself to stand tall, to meet his gaze without flinching. “You’ll get over it.”
He steps closer, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. “I’m not so sure about that, Gracie.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Because the truth is, I’m not sure either.
The door swings open, and Kate’s voice breaks the spell. “Grace, are you coming?”
I tear my gaze away from Kane, nodding quickly. “Yeah. On my way.”
As I step outside into the cool night air, I tell myself I’m done with him, done letting him get to me. But deep down, I know this is far from over.