Chapter Twenty-Four Grace
Twenty-Four
Grace
Grace woke up convinced someone had replaced her blood with antifreeze. Her breath was visible in the air and that borrowed nightgown had all the insulation properties of tissue paper.
Then she remembered.
Oh, how she remembered.
Every part of her remembered. The tenderness between her thighs. The pleasant ache of her lips.
She sat up, pulling the sheet around herself and looked around the tower room.
Empty bed beside her. Empty chaise longue.
Early morning light filtering through the windows.
Everything looked different in daylight.
Less Gothic romance, more, “Actually we’re trapped in a tower and, oh God, what have I done? ”
She turned to see Reese crouched by the fireplace, coaxing flames to life. He was shirtless, his blond hair still messy from sleep and her hands.
There was something almost primal about the way he tended the fire, like he belonged in this setting: rough and outdoors and completely removed from boardrooms and business suits.
Then she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and winced.
Hair that looked like she’d been electrocuted and mascara smudged under her eyes.
“Morning,” Reese said, glancing over his shoulder and giving her a smile that was warm. Genuine. “Sleep okay?”
Grace’s brain supplied several inappropriate responses involving how little actual sleeping had occurred. She went with: “Yeah. You?”
“Two hours. I’m fine.”
“Two hours? How are you functioning?”
“Practice.” He stood up from the fire and strolled to the stove in the small kitchen area, flipping some bacon in a pan as he gestured to a pot of coffee. “Coffee’s on. Go park yourself by the fire.”
Grace wrapped the blanket around herself like the world’s least dignified toga and moved toward the kitchen, hyperaware of how little she was wearing under this blanket. How domestic this felt. How easy it would be to get used to waking up to the smell of bacon and a half-naked man in the kitchen.
More dangerous thoughts. Very dangerous thoughts.
She poured herself a coffee. Black. Strong enough to wake the dead.
Then she sat by the fireplace, watching Reese cook.
He was a natural. He moved around that small kitchen like he’d been doing this forever.
This was different from Reese, the Golden Wolf, the alpha competitor.
This was just…a man. Making her breakfast.
She liked it. Way more than she should.
She shivered and he stopped what he was doing, grabbing another blanket and bringing it over, wrapping it around her shoulders and kissing her on the forehead as he did.
“It’s freezing,” she said.
“I noticed.”
“Then why are you still half naked?”
“I run hot.”
“Sure do,” she heard herself say.
He gave her his predatory smile. “Should’ve stayed in bed. And kept you warmer.”
Grace’s stomach did something complicated.
He plated up eggs, bacon, and toast and brought it over.
“Sounds like the storm’s cleared,” Grace said. “Jake and his lot will be able to get across the lake and—”
Reese shook his head. “Look out the window.”
Grace did as he asked and all she saw was fog.
Thick, gray, blanketing everything. The lake was invisible. The shore was invisible. Even the trees closest to the tower were just dark shapes in the white. The world had shrunk to stone and mist and silence.
“Oh,” she said.
“Yeah, we’re not getting out of here for a few more hours, so relax and let someone take care of you for once.”
The words hit hard. When was the last time someone had made her breakfast? Treated her like she was worth the effort?
Grace did as he asked and looked up at him.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Something softened in his expression. “You’re welcome.”
He settled in the chair across from her with his own plate, and they ate in comfortable silence. The food was good: perfectly cooked eggs, crispy bacon, toast with actual butter. Grace couldn’t remember the last time she’d had breakfast that wasn’t grabbed standing up between shifts.
“So,” Reese said eventually. “About last night.”
Grace’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Yeah. I guess we should talk about it in the clear light of day. Look, I—”
A voice echoed up from outside then, through the window Reese had cracked open slightly. Loud and booming. Unmistakably Abe.
“Hello up there! Everyone alive?”
Grace and Reese looked at each other.
“We’re fine!” Grace called back, trying to sound like she wasn’t sitting next to her competitor wearing only a blanket, a nightgown and the afterglow of the best orgasm of her life.
“You’ve seen the fog?” Abe continued. “Thick as soup out here. No chance any boat or chopper’s gonna be risking lake nor sky. Your rescue might be delayed even more.”
“Oh no,” Reese said, his voice absolutely dripping with mock disappointment. His eyes found Grace’s. “What a tragedy.”
Heat bloomed in her stomach. Spread outward.
Damn him and that look.
“Mom?” Another voice. Zach’s. “You all right?”
Oh God. Her son was out there and she was up here and—
“I’m fine, baby!” Grace called out, forcing brightness into her voice as she walked to the window and looked out at him. He was standing there with Abe, his hair all mussy. “Totally fine! Have you had breakfast?” she called down.
“Margaret made pancakes,” Zach called back. “They were so good. Better than yours, actually.”
“Hey!”
“Just being honest.” She could just about see his grin. “Love you, Mom.”
Grace turned and mouthed a wow to Reese. He smiled.
“Love you too, sweetheart,” she called back.
“There are board games in the cupboard if you need some entertainment,” Abe called up.
“Wood for the fire too, along with extra sweaters and blankets. Might get colder later. You two just…stay warm.” A pause.
Then, with unmistakable amusement: “And Grace? Reese? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Now come on, boy, let’s find you that sword my grandad used to show us. ”
Grace watched as they walked back into the inn, then she came back and sat down, dropping her head into her hands. “Oh my God.”
“Abe knows,” Reese said.
“Of course he knows! Everyone probably knows! Was I loud when…you know?”
Reese laughed. “They wouldn’t have heard, Grace. But even if they had, does it matter?”
Grace looked up at him. At this man who’d made her breakfast and held her hand and looked at her like she was worth something. At this impossible, complicated situation that was only getting more impossible by the minute.
“To my son it might,” she said quietly.
“Grace.” Reese cupped her face, made her look at him. “You’re a solid mom. Best I’ve seen, next to mine anyway. Don’t beat yourself up for having a night that was just yours.”
“But—”
“You’re allowed.”
Grace wanted to believe him. Wanted to let herself have this without the guilt. But fourteen years of putting everyone else first didn’t just evaporate because one man told her she deserved better.
Still. Maybe he had a point.
“In fact,” he continued, “you deserve more than one night. Where else have you traveled other than Disneyland?”
Grace shook her head, picking her plate back up and taking a bite of bacon while licking her lips, Reese watching her like he was remembering how those lips had felt wrapped around him the night before. “Nowhere outside the States,” she said, trying to dampen down the heat rising inside.
Anne Boleyn; remember, Grace. Anne bloody Boleyn.
“Never had the money or the time,” she said. He looked shocked and she laughed. “Not everyone is so well traveled, Mr. Moneybags.”
He smiled. “Okay, then where would you go, money and time no object?”
“Why, you offering to fund my grand tour?”
“Maybe I’m just curious. Humor me.”
Grace smiled. “That’s easy. The UK. I’m a total anglophile. My friend Sophie comes from there and she said it’s amazing in autumn, all golden fields and misty mornings, little pubs with fires going. Oh my God, I’d love to eat Yorkshire puddings in a British pub!”
“Yorkshire puddings, eh? That’s pretty specific.” Reese propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her. “Nothing like a British pub in autumn.”
“You’ve been to the UK?”
“A few times,” he said, tracing his thumb along her collarbone. “Best place I stayed was the Cotswolds. Stone cottages, crooked lanes, beer that could knock you flat. You’d fit right in.”
Grace laughed. “Me? I’m more coffee-and-chaos than country charm.”
“Maybe,” he said, leaning closer from his chair. “But I can picture you in a British pub. Wool sweater, messy hair, rain on the windows.” He kissed her, slow and deep. “It’d suit you. Oh and you’d love the sticky toffee puddings. I’ll make sure you try one out when I take you there one day.”
Grace felt something warm unfurl in her chest.
Another kiss, longer this time. “Then I’d take you to Paris,” he continued, “and this little place in the Marais. No tourists, just locals. Best coffee in the city and pastries that’ll ruin you for anything else.
We’d go to Iceland next. See the Northern Lights, hot springs in the middle of nowhere, landscapes that don’t look real. ”
“Sounds cold.”
“That’s what the hot springs are for.” His hand slid up her ribs, thumb brushing her nipples. “And anyway, I’d keep you warm.”
“Oh, you would?” Grace’s breath hitched as he kissed down her neck.
“Mm. Then Scotland for the whisky.” Kiss. “Croatia for the coast. New Zealand next. South Island. Mountains and lakes that make Solace Springs look like a puddle.” Kiss. “Japan in spring for the cherry blossoms.” Kiss.
His hand moved lower and Grace felt her body responding despite having been thoroughly satisfied just hours ago.
“You’ve got this all planned out,” she managed.
“I’m a planner.” His voice was muffled against her skin now, hands sliding lower. “I’d show you everything. Every place I’ve been that made me think ‘this is what the world can be.’ ”
“Reese—”
“Every morning waking up somewhere new.” His long fingers settled between her thighs. “Every night falling asleep somewhere beautiful.”
Grace reached up, cupped his face. “That’s a nice fantasy.”
“Doesn’t have to be fantasy.” He kissed her palm. “Could be real.”
She wanted to argue, to point out all the reasons why a single mom from Solace Springs couldn’t just jet off around the world with a man so far from her reality. But then he was kissing her properly, and his fingers were doing things that made thinking impossible.
Reality could wait a little longer.