“It’s good,” she said hoarsely and had to swallow to continue. “I-I hardly notice it anymore.”
“That’s wonderful news, Grace.” He dipped his whiskered chin and she remembered what it was to have those whiskers tickling her cheeks, her nipples…the insides of her thighs.
The silence resumed as he returned his attention to the expansive view. She studied his profile, appreciated how the helmet had exacerbated his cowlick and tried to be patient as a million questions buzzed through her brain.
Questions like…Why was that last phone call so strange? What are you doing here now? Do you feel for me even a tenth of what I feel for you?
The way he wound his watch told her, despite his seemingly relaxed sprawl, he was nervous. But nervous of who?Her?Nervous of what?Did he come with bad news?
She bit back her questions because she got the impression it wouldn’t take much to have him scrambling up and leaving. And the silence stretched on for so long that when the screen door opened, she jumped at the squeak of the hinges.
“Ah.” Her father nodded when he saw Hunter. “There you are. Took you long enough.”
“Yeah.” Hunter dipped his chin. “The ride from Chicago isn’t short.”
“Hunter?” Grace’s mother pushed past Grace’s father, who remained standing at the front door. “I made you a cup of tea and put a drop of milk in it, just like you like it.”
Grace blinked at the idea that her mother knew how Hunter liked his tea. Then again, her family had officially spent more time with him during her week of unconsciousness than she ever had.
What an odd thought.
“Thank you.” He took the teacup and gifted her mother with one of his elusive grins. “You look good, Mrs. Beacham.”
“Stop that flirtin’ with my wife,” Grace’s father grumbled. “You got other business to attend to here.”
With that, her parents disappeared back inside and she was left to blink after them in confounded astonishment. She turned to Hunter. “Why do I get the impression they knew you were coming?”
“Probably because your dad didn’t really give me a choice.” He chuckled and the sound poured over her heart like warm chocolate, so sweet and wonderful. He took a sip of tea before setting the cup aside. “I think his exact words to me when we talked on the phone were, ‘Get your ass to North Carolina.’”
“You talked to Dad on the phone? Why?”
“Because he wanted to ream my ass for not talking to you for three weeks.”
Her stomach sank. As a sheriff, Calvin Beacham had grown comfortable with knowing everyone’s business. Which meant he sometimes forgot to keep his nose out of places it didn’t belong.
Like my love life.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, embarrassed and disappointed and so damn heartbroken that he’d come out of a sense of obligation or guilt that it took every ounce of her self-possession not to start bawling. “My father can be—”
“Don’t be sorry,” he interrupted. “It was just the kick in the pants I needed. In my defense, I was out on assignment and international phone calls weren’t really an option. But, still…” He shrugged.
“I hate that you came all this way just because he—” He lifted a hand and the words died in her throat.
“I came all this way to find out for myself if what he said is true.”
She was almost afraid to ask, but… “What did he say?”
“That I broke your heart.”
She groaned and let her face fall into her hand. “Dear lord.”
He tugged on her wrist until she was forced to look at him. The warmth of his fingers sank into her skin and reminded her of how it’d been to lie naked in his strong arms, every inch of her stretched next to every inch of him.
“Did I?” There was so much kindness in his eyes, so much sincerity, she wanted to die.
Why can’t the porch boards open up and swallow me whole?
“No.” She shook her head, struggling to keep her voice even. “I think it’s probably safer to say I broke my own heart. I mean, you never promised me anything. And I knew what we shared in your cabin couldn’t last forever. I knew falling in love with you wasn’t something—”
