Grace (The Family Simon Book 5) Read online

  “What?” Mouth dry, she licked her bottom lip and reached for her mug of beer. She needed to do something with her hands. No. She needed to be somewhere else.

  “Your deal.”

  “My deal?”

  Josh nodded. “That guy over there. He’s your deal.”

  Grace stared across the table at Josh Hayden for several long moments. The men got louder as the beer started to flow, and the music cranked up a notch. There was no point in lying.

  Slowly, her eyes returned to Matt, who had sidled up to the bar and was chatting with handlebar-guy. “Yeah,” she said softly. “That’s him. That’s Matt.”

  Josh sat back in his seat and signaled the waitress. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  Grace glanced back at Josh but she had nothing. For the last six weeks, she’d envisioned what she’d say to Matt Hawkins should she ever get the chance to see him again. And now that the moment was at hand, she was hiding.

  That wasn’t who she was. That wasn’t who she wanted to be.

  The waitress came over. “You guys want another round?”

  Did she? The redhead slid onto the seat beside Matt and an ugly wash of something rolled through Grace. It was time to put this crap to rest. She’d say her piece and move on.

  “Uh huh,” she murmured, tearing her eyes from Matt to nod at the waitress. “One more.”

  Josh raised an eyebrow and drained his mug before slapping it down on the table. “Good call.”

  Grace didn’t answer. Her stomach was in knots. Her heart rate would make any doctor insane. And she was pretty sure that her cheeks were the same color as the cranberry juice in the glass at the next table. She was hot and bothered and more alive than she’d felt in weeks.

  Good call? Only time would tell.

  4

  “You going to the arena tomorrow?”

  Matt wiped the foam at the corner of his mouth and shrugged. He’d been planning on it but he had Rosie to deal with, and he wasn’t so sure that situation was going to work itself out in time.

  “Not sure yet,” he replied, reaching for the basket of popcorn Duke Everett had placed on the bar.

  The bar owner huffed. “We need you there for indoor volleyball. Not to mention the hockey game. They’re bringing in some big guns and I don’t like to lose to a bunch of Hollywood pansies and spoiled athletes.”

  “Better not let Betty hear you talking like that, Duke. Her husband is one of those Hollywood-type pansies.”

  “Bah,” Duke barked. “Beau’s all right. Besides. He won’t be here.” Duke’s eyebrow shot up. “Or will he? You know something I don’t? Did he come to town with Betty?”

  “Betty doesn’t fly in until tomorrow, but no, she’s coming alone. Beau’s stuck filming in New Orleans for at least another week. Not sure why, but it had to have been important to keep him away.”

  “I know the fundraiser means a lot to the girls.” Duke had a soft spot for the Barker triplets, not surprising, most in town did. The big guy tugged on the edge of his mustache. “How’s Trent doing by the way?”

  Matt sighed. “Not good.”

  Betty Jo Barker meant the world to Matt. She’d been there for him when no one else had—when everyone in New Waterford had written him off. She’d been there and seen him at his worst, and Matt knew that if not for Betty Jo Barker he’d be six feet under with no one to leave flowers at his grave.

  He’d do anything for her, and it killed him to know there was nothing he could do for her father. The man had been battling Alzheimer’s for years now and his immediate future looked grim.

  Why was it always the good guys?

  Duke shook his head. “Damn shame that is.” He tossed his towel and grabbed another mug. Placing it under the spout, he began to pour a draft. “I think that’s Josh Hayden over there.”

  Matt grunted but didn’t turn around to look. He didn’t give a crap. Seemed like these days he didn’t give a crap about anything. He eyed the half empty mug of beer in front of him and sighed. Even the beer tasted like crap.

  “That there the Simon girl with him?”

  Matt’s head shot up so fast he saw stars, and blinking he turned around. Grace Simon? He squinted and…there she was. Sitting in a booth with…yep that was definitely Hayden, a guy with a reputation for partying, trouble, and women.

  What the hell? Why hadn’t Betty told him?

  Scowling, Matt snapped up his mug of beer and turned back to the bar.

  “Something up?” Duke asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Mind your own business, Everett.”

  Duke’s face darkened and he leaned in close. “This bar is my business, and that there look on your face is one I’ve seen before. Usually before the shit starts to hit the fan. So I’m warning you, Hawkins. Keep things even keel or you’re out of here.”

  The woman he’d come in with, Sasha, sidled up to the bar and plopped her butt on the stool beside him. She was nice enough but already Matt regretted bringing her back here. If he was on his game, he would have taken her number and left it at that. She was just another complication he could do without.

  His cell phone pinged and he grabbed it out of his pocket. Betty.

  “I gotta take this,” he said to Sasha, moving toward the kitchen area where the music wasn’t so loud.

  “Where are you?” Betty sounded out of breath, more than a little stressed, and he was guessing her crying toddler had something to do with it.

  “At the Grill. What’s up with Fitz?” Betty and Beau’s son was named after her father Trent, but from early on he’d been called Fitz. No one remembered who started it, but the name had stuck.

  “Oh my God, Matt. Fitz is pissed—“

  “Shouldn’t swear in front of the kid.”

  “Shit. I know.” A pause. “Dammit.”

  That earned a smile and Matt rolled his shoulders, angling his head so that he could see the booth where Grace sat with Hayden. A fresh round of beers had just been delivered and the guy was all up in her business. Matt sure as hell didn’t like it, but then, it’s not as if he had a say.

  “Fitz is cranky. He missed his nap and now he wants his dad and well, Beau is in another city and I’m just…” Her voice wavered a bit. Betty wanted everyone to think of her as tough-as-nails, but he knew better.

  “Hey,” Matt said, lowering his voice. “I’m here, okay? We’ll get through the weekend.”

  “I know.” There was a pause and a soft sigh. “I just needed to hear your voice I guess.”

  “What time’s your flight?”

  “We’ll be there by noon. Flying into the private airport just south of town.”

  “You need me to get you?”

  “No. It’s fine. I’ve got security.” He could almost picture her eye roll. “Beau insisted and I get it, but still, this is my hometown. I feel a little ridiculous.”

  “He’s concerned about Fitz’s safety. I’d feel the same.”

  “I guess. Anyway, I’m heading to Bobbi’s and the three of us are going to see Dad before heading to the arena. Not that he’ll know who we are, but…”

  “Good.” He was listening, but his eyes were still on Grace. He watched her sneak a glance toward the bar—back to where he’d been standing—and Matt straightened up. Had she seen him walk in?

  “So, just a heads up. Grace is in town for the fundraiser.”

  Matt was quiet for a moment. Betty knew him too well—they had no secrets. He’d told her about his night with Grace and she’d given him proper shit.

  “I heard,” he replied.

  “Oh.” He could see the wheels turning. “I just found out. How do you know?”

  “Because I’m standing in the Grill looking at her.”

  “Oh. Shit.”

  “It’s no wonder that was your kid’s first word.”

  Betty ignored the barb. “You need to stay away from her.”

  Matt rubbed the back of his neck, hi
s scowl deepening. He knew Betty was right. Grace Simon and Matt Hawkins were never going to be a thing. He knew he should have stayed away from her that night in Nashville. And yet…

  He couldn’t help himself and glanced back to her booth. His heart sped up. Which caused his pulse to race. Which made him hot as hell, and he tugged at the collar of his jacket. Her eyes were on him.

  “Matt?”

  “Yeah.” Jesus it was hot in here.

  “You sound weird.”

  “Huh?” He tore his gaze from Grace’s and gave himself a mental smack. Get your shit together.

  “You sound weird,” Betty growled into his ear. “You need to stay away from her Matt. She’s a sweet girl and nothing good can come out you two hooking up. Grace has been hurt before. She’s a fixer and you…”

  “Can’t be fixed. Yeah. I get it.”

  “No. I mean. You know I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” She sighed in his ear and something inside him deflated. She was right. Of course she was right. He knew it. Hell, everyone in this damn town knew it.

  “Don’t worry. I’m outta here,” he said abruptly.

  “Matt.”

  “Betty, I gotta go. No worries. You’re right. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pocketed his cell and turned—his intention to head back to the bar, pay his tab, deal with Sasha, and leave.

  But that wasn’t happening on account of the dark haired spitfire staring up at him. He watched Grace closely for a few moments, not really knowing how to proceed. That was a new one for Matt. He was used to being in control.

  “I was just leaving,” he said eventually, breaking the silence.

  Grace took a step forward and thumped him on the chest. “No you’re not.”

  A shot of adrenaline rushed through Matt, a spark that set off all sorts of things. Hot things. Needful things. Wrong things to be thinking about.

  “I’m not?” He was dancing on the edge again and damn but it felt good.

  “No.” Grace took a step back. “We need to talk.”

  You need to stay away from her. Betty’s voice echoed in his ear and he winced.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Too bad,” she retorted, pointing to the washrooms. “Let’s go.”

  He stared down at her, rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling his feet like a damn schoolboy. Grace Simon was fierce and from the look of her, she wasn’t taking no for an answer. She obviously needed to get something off her chest and after the way he’d just up and left her in Nashville, it was the least he could do. Give her a chance to tell him what he already knew. That he was a no good and all-around asshole.

  Maybe then he could stop thinking about her. Maybe then he could get on with his life.

  She stepped aside…

  And Matt followed her down the hall.

  5

  Grace’s heart was pounding so hard that she was pretty sure everyone in the bar could hear it. It filled her ears and she exhaled, pushing into the woman’s washroom before she lost her nerve. Thankfully it was unoccupied and when Matt followed her inside, she shoved past him and locked the door.

  Resting against the wall she took a few moments to gather her thoughts, but it was so hard to think straight. Matt Hawkins was a big guy and he filled the room. Draped in leather and denim, with a few days’ worth of stubble darkening his jaw, he was a walking advertisement for testosterone.

  And Lord but he was beautiful. Not pretty-boy beautiful—but a raw, masculine, and dangerous kind of beautiful. Any woman would look twice. Hell, any woman would want a taste of him. Was it just his looks that got to her? Was this just a physical thing?

  She took a moment, thoughts whirling as she attempted to calm herself. But she knew. There was more. There was something in his eyes that pulled at her. Something deep. Something almost…painful. And that made her wonder. It also made her determined.

  “So who is she?” Grace asked suddenly. Surprise lit up his eyes and truth be told, she was pretty surprised herself. Her heart and mind were racing but that didn’t matter. She was just going to go with it and screw the consequences.

  “Who is…who?” Matt looked confused. Good. She wanted him off kilter.

  Grace pushed off from the wall. “The redhead.” A heartbeat passed. “The redhead that you came here with.”

  Matt was silent for a few seconds. “Her name is Sasha.”

  “Sasha.” The name rolled off her lips. “She your girlfriend?”

  Again. Surprise lit up his features. “No. She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Huh. Didn’t think so.”

  His eyebrows shot up at that. “Then why ask?”

  She ignored his question and fired another one back at him. “When’s the last time you were in a relationship?”

  He actually squirmed at the word and Grace pressed on, sensing that she was onto something.

  “And by relationship, I don’t mean when’s the last time you screwed the same girl for more than a week. I mean, when were you in a relationship? You know, the grown-up kind.”

  His eyes widened and then narrowed. And that generous mouth of his thinned. He grabbed his hat from his head and tossed it onto the countertop, regarding her warily.

  “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” He practically barked the words.

  “You don’t need to. This is my time, Matt. You owe me.” She took a step toward him. “When was the last time you were in a grown-up, serious relationship?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” His voice was rough, his breaths falling faster. This dance they were doing, it was strange and exhilarating.

  “Answer the question.” There was command in her voice. His eyes darkened, their glittery depths electric. The waters were rippling and she knew she’d hit a nerve.

  Matt regarded her in silence for a good, long while without saying a word. He stared at her for so long that someone banged on the door earning a shout from Grace to use the men’s washroom. He stared at her for so long that Grace began to doubt herself. She was just about to throw up her hands and say to hell with it, when he spoke.

  “Never.”

  She blinked. Never? That was more than a little unexpected. Mouth dry, she paused, suddenly unsure of what to say or where to go from here.

  “You look surprised,” Matt said.

  “I am.”

  He shrugged. Maybe to someone else he would have appeared nonchalant—as if he didn’t care. But she knew better. She saw it in his eyes.

  “Why?” she asked, inching closer to him. “Why have you never let yourself get close to someone?”

  He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, running his hands through his hair as he slowly shook his head. He was pulling away from her.

  “You and Betty are close.” Her chest was tight and she clawed at the zipper of her jacket, undoing it a bit to ease the tension.

  “Betty knows me.”

  “I want to know you.” Had she just said that with her outside voice?

  “Trust me, you don’t.” His response was curt with a hint of frost. He took a step sideways and Grace moved to block him. No way was he getting past her. Not now.

  He glared at her, and she knew he was angry. Whatever. She was angry as well, and there was no way in hell he was going to dismiss her. Grace had grown up with four brothers and she’d learned early on to fight if she wanted to be heard.

  “I told you in Nashville that I was no good for you.” A dangerous glint lit his eyes and instead of pulling back, he took a step toward her. “I wasn’t lying about that Grace. If you had any sense of self-preservation you’d hightail it the hell out of here right now and never look back.”

  A thrill shot through her. He was so close she could smell that subtle scent that was all him. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled him and her heart ramped up again. She wavered a bit, a little dizzy, and put her hand on the wall to steady herself.

  “I can look after myself,” she managed to say. (Whi
ch was a bloody miracle considering she felt as if she was falling.)

  He took another step, his warm breath rolling over her. Into her. God, she was drowning in him. He had a lone freckle over his right eye and Grace focused on it, trying to keep her composure and failing miserably.

  “You have no idea about anything. You’re just a little girl. How old are you anyway?” His voice was rough, the edge cutting and cold.

  “Old enough to know bullshit when I hear it.”

  That surprised him, but he recovered just as quick. “Look, darlin’. We had great sex. Not gonna lie. Great fucking sex. But that’s all it was. So don’t try to make it into anything more. I’m not wired that way. I’m not the guy you bring home to meet your parents. I’m the guy you brought back from the bar because you needed an itch scratched. I’m the guy you had sex with.” He paused. “And I’m the guy who left as soon as I got off because I had no interest in staying. It was just sex. So get over it.”

  Grace had to take a moment, because there was a big old lump in the back of her throat and she couldn’t speak. His words hurt—that she couldn’t deny—and as she stood there staring up at him, Matt moved in for the kill.

  “I know what you’re doing, Grace. You’re not the first woman to think she could figure me out or fix me and I’m sure you won’t be the last. Most of the time, I just let them think they can. I take what I want before moving on.”

  She swallowed that lump in her throat, hoping like hell the tears that stung the corner of her eyes didn’t spill over. No way was she going to cry in front of him.

  “You’re a good girl, Grace.”

  She slapped at him. “I’m not a girl. Don’t patronize me.”

  But that darkness she’d sensed earlier filled his eyes and his mouth was set into a cruel grin.

  “I’m not a guy you want to fix. I’m the guy you should be running from. Because I’m the guy who would bend you over that sink and spread your legs as wide as I could. I’m the guy who would yank your pants down, rip off your panties and screw you into next week even though you came here with another man.”

  He inched closer still. So close that his body heat scorched her skin. So close that only a whisper separated them. She was trembling and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Holy hell, had she underestimated the power this man had over her.