A thick one made of reinforced nylon.
“You ready to get off that bike and go inside where it’s cool?” He held his gloved hand out to her, palm up.
“Lord, yes.”
She tried to mimic his smooth dismount, but her legs mutinied. Had he not stepped forward at the last minute, she might have ended up ass-planted in the dirt.
There’s no way that wouldn’t have blown out the butt of these jeans!
Instead of keister kissing ground, she found herself back in his arms. Her legs intertwined with his muscled thighs. Her face a mere inch from his so that his warm breath fanned her heated cheeks.
She was suddenly aware of the weight of her breasts, the tightening of her nipples, the warmth unfurling low in her belly.
She wanted him.
She was pretty sure she’d never wanted anyone more.
“I feel like I’ve just run a marathon.” She made a face, chagrined by her clumsiness.
“It’ll take it out of you if you’re not used to riding. You want me to carry you in?”
A laugh burst out of her at the absurdity of the idea. She sobered when she realized he was serious. “My inner Hallmark Channel heroine is screaming yes. But the part of me who prides herself on being a tough, resilient, independent woman won’t allow it.”
“Even tough, resilient, independent women need help sometimes, Grace.”
Grace.How was it he made her name sound like music?
She slid out of his embrace. It was either that, or she was going to climb him like a tree, straddle his face, and insist he wear her around like a face mask.
“Stop being so wonderful, would you?” She grinned so he’d know she was teasing.
“Why?” He cocked his head, looking genuinely perplexed.
Because if you don’t, I’m going to fall in love with you!
The thought zipped through her head so quickly it nearly gave her whiplash. It was followed by the sinking of her stomach and another thought.Oh, hell.
14
3 Majestic Ridge Road
Hunter had been concerned he wasn’t going to like having anyone in his sanctuary. Partly because itwashis safe space and introducing someone new came with inherent risks. But mostly because he loved the little cabin tucked back in the woods, and he wasn’t sure how he’d handle anyone lifting a nose at the second-hand leather sofa he’d snagged from a yard sale or the multicolored afghan blanket that’d been knitted by the wife of the man he paid to look after the place.
He should’ve known better than to worry about Grace, though. The moment he opened the door, she clasped her hands in front of her and breathed, “Oh, my god! It’s like something from a storybook.”
Stepping inside, she immediately began making her way around the main space. Her eyes taking in everything. Her lower lip caught between her teeth in concentration. And, not for the first time, he noted she was a tactile person.
As she drifted past his bookshelves, her soft fingertips brushed over the spines of his novels. The basket of shells he’d collected from the nearby beach sat on the mantel above the fireplace. She picked up two of the shells and rubbed her thumbs against their smooth, pearlescent centers. The bits of sea glass he kept in a shallow candy dish on the coffee table got the benefit of her attention as she grabbed a handful of the sparkling pebbles and let them run through her fingers like colorful sand.
She picked up the afghan and rubbed a corner against her cheek, pinched the leaves of the succulents he kept in the windowsill, and by the time she’d skimmed a hand over the glazed handle of an earthenware mug hanging from a mug tree on the kitchen island, he was holding his breath.
It was as if she’d spent five minutes exploring him. Touchinghim.Learning all his surfaces and textures.
Stepping behind the kitchen island so she couldn’t see what her innocent ministrations had done to him, he asked, “So? Will this do?”
“It’s perfect, Hunter. So comfy and cozy.” His heart swelled with pride. “But I pegged you for one of those guys who’d have shelves filled with titles like Sun Tzu’sThe Art of WarorA Farewell to Arms. Turns out, you like novels about family dynamics.”
She kept it to herself if she noticed his voice had gone a little raspy when he told her, “When you grow up like I did, reading about fictional families fighting together to overcome trials and tribulations feels almost as fantastical as anything Hemingway could’ve written.”
