22. Grace
How the hell did we get here? If you told me two months ago I’d be Matt’s fake wife but real-life girlfriend, I would have told you to go step on a Lego. But now, looking over at the man sitting beside me, I can’t think of a better place to be.
“Red, what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” Matt asks, coming to stand beside me as he finishes getting things packed for us to head out. We decided to make a road trip down to Alabama instead of flying out with the team. Matt wants me to meet his parents and sisters before the race weekend, and to say I’m nervous as hell is an understatement. For God’s sake, their son is bringing home a Yankee, so my mission is to impress Momma McCall with all the effort that I can.
“Honestly, Cowboy, I’m scared to death. What if your mom hates me? Hell, I’m not a great cook, and I’m not a Southern lady. She may have thought you’d end up with a Southern belle, and I’m a sassy-mouthed woman who would rather watch action movies than some sappy Hallmark movie,” I say, finishing packing up my makeup bag and placing it by the others that Matt has set out for us.
“Grace, look at me,” he says in his deep voice that makes me do anything, and I do mean anything, the man wants.
“I don’t give a flying flip if you’re not Southern or a lady. Honestly, I think that’s what pulled me in in the first place. I’ve had so many women come to me that when you made it a challenge, I wanted you even more,” he says, pulling me close to his rock-hard body and kissing me slowly.
I know that if I don’t break this kiss, I’m going to have to remake the bed, and that will put us way behind in our drive. Showing what little restraint I have left, I pull away, instantly missing his heat, and turn on my heels, heading toward the front door.
“Very funny, Red. You kiss me like that and then walk away. You do know that I’ll punish you for that later, right?” Matt says in that gruff Southern voice that always makes my blood heat up in all the right places.
“Come on, Cowboy. If you’re good, maybe you’ll get a little treat as we go down the road.” I wink at him as I grab my bag and close the door behind me just as I hear him mumble a “fuck me,” pulling the remainder of the luggage behind him.
Four hours later, we’re only an hour outside the tiny county where Talladega Speedway is located. Why the hell we thought this was a good idea, I’ll never understand. My back hurts from being in the car for so long, and I had to pee about an hour ago but didn’t want to mention that to Matt as he made a point to tell me to make a pit stop before leaving, but I ignored him in favor of thinking I could make it longer than I actually did. So now, here I sit, miserable because of my own pride. But we used the time to dive a little deeper into each other’s history. Since we had done this relationship a little ass backward, we figure it’s only fitting to find out more.
“Look out that window, Red. That’s one of the biggest speedways we go to each year. Are you ready to stand beside me this weekend? As a real couple?”
“Cowboy, if the last two months have told you anything, it’s that I’ll follow you into that whirlwind and smile as I do it.”
We keep driving for another forty minutes to Matt’s hometown. He may not have grown up with the same life I did, but from just listening to him talk about his parents and sisters, I can tell they are close. He’s made something of himself, and yet he wants to make sure that his family is taken care of more than anything else.
“All right, Red, this is it. Are you ready for some good ole-fashioned Southern hospitality?” he asks, showing me that million-dollar smile again. He is so excited to see his parents and siblings that it’s infectious and helps calm my nerves just a little bit.
Coming around to my door, he helps me out of the car, and we walk hand in hand up to the front door of a beautiful, white farmhouse with a big, red wooden door and a big, Southern wrapped-around porch. I can see why Matt purchased this house for his parents. He saw that his mom would love sitting out on this porch either reading or just rocking in the big, white rockers.
Just as we get to the front door, it bursts open, and out run two smaller kids and a tall, blonde woman who I can only assume is Matt’s sister.
She slows as we approach, closing the door behind them. Her eyes grow big as she takes in the sight of her brother. Did he not tell them we were coming?
“Matty, is that you?” the blonde asks as Matt releases my hand and goes to give her a hug.
“Hey, sis. Where the hell are you running off to so quickly? I think I just got a glimpse of my niece and nephew as they blew past me—not even stopping to say hey.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. They were raised in a barn, you know. No manners whatsoever unless they’re with Mom, and then it’s like they’re the Queen of England’s kids.”
“Tracy, this is my girlfriend, Grace,” he says, turning to me as I stand behind him, watching the kids run toward what I guess was his sister’s car.
“Girlfriend, huh? The media says y’all are married. She’s not your wife, Matty?”
I like this woman. She doesn’t give a shit who he is, or even me for that matter.
“Yeah, well, the media likes to spin things all the time. Why don’t you come have a drink and we can fill you in on all that’s gone on in the last two months?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got to get the kids to soccer practice. But I’ll see you at the race on Sunday. I wouldn’t miss the hometown boy taking on the big bad super speedway.” Giving Matt a kiss on the cheek and me a hug, she leaves to find her kids.
We make our way into the house, and as soon as I step foot in the door, I instantly relax just a tiny bit. It smells just like when I went home to Boston two weeks ago. That’s one thing about having a mom who cooks. All the kids want to be a part of that house, and you can tell that Matt’s mom is no different.
“Come on. We better make our way into the kitchen before she comes to find us and I get in trouble for lingering outside the room.”
Music is playing softly over the speakers, and just as we turn a corner, I notice a sight that makes me tear up.
Matt’s parents are in the middle of the kitchen, dancing. Now things start to make sense of why the man is so damn charming. He watched his parents growing up, and it’s clear why the man always listens to old country music and why he always pulls me into dancing with him as we cook together. He’s been watching his parents all this time. And I am just in awe of this man. He is romantic and doesn’t even have to try. He just learned what to do from the man spinning this petite woman around.
Clearing my throat, I can’t help but feel my heart swell at the sight of my parents. I’ve watched them dance in the kitchen with one another for as long as I can remember, and to see them now still doing the same as they always have done makes me glad that Grace has wanted to dance with me in the kitchen as well.
“All my stars, is that my son? My married son who I had no idea was even dating, let alone married.” Mom starts to rant when she notices Grace standing beside me.
“Matthew Thomas McCall! Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were coming and bringing my beautiful daughter-in-law with you no less?” she says, smacking me on the arm before bringing me into one of her amazing hugs.
“Sorry, Mom. Believe me, Grace wanted to tell you we were coming, but I wanted it to be a surprise,” I reply with those big puppy dog eyes that she can’t ever stay mad at.
Pulling away from me, she turns to Grace.
“Well, Miss Miller, or should I say Mrs. McCall? It’s nice to finally get to see my daughter-in-law in person instead of in a magazine or a texted photo from my son,” my mom says.
“It’s really great to finally meet you too, Mrs. McCall,” Grace says.
“So what are you and Dad doing besides dancing in the kitchen?”
“We were getting ready to head out on the boat. Did you folks bring your swimsuits?” Dad asks as he grabs an armful of beers from the fridge to put into a cooler.
Looking at Grace, she shrugs as if to say, whatever you want, I’m game.
“Sure, let me just grab our bags, and we can get changed. Meet you down at the dock in twenty minutes.”
“All right, kids. We’ll see you down there. And, Matt, no sex under my roof, got it? I shouldn’t even have to say that, but I know how my son can be when he has a beautiful woman in front of him. Hell, I was young once too, kids,” I hear my dad say as we make our way to the guest bedroom. I’m sure Grace is five shades of a tomato from my dad’s comment.