It was all so domestic and sweet and…romantic. Although, he’d never really associated the first two with the last one until going to work at BKI. Now, he couldn’t untangle the trio. They went together.Belongedtogether.
Grace had been focusing on her sandwich. When she finished the last bite, she finally looked up, smiled her appreciation, and gave him a thumbs-up. “That was really good. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
Hedid. Realize how hungryhewas. And not for a sandwich. It could’ve been a piece of cardboard for all he tasted of his own final bite. His whole attention, his entirebeingwas pinned on Grace.
“Tell me about growing up in Asheville,” he asked suddenly.
He stood across the island from her because he hadn’t trusted himself to snag the barstool beside her. He hadn’t been sure, with her so close, that he could’ve kept from grabbing her and dragging her off to the bedroom caveman-style before she got the chance to finish her sandwich. And now he needed to give her time to finish her lemonade. Andhimselftime to recover from the unconsciously erotic show she’d put on while eating.
“What do you want to know?” She cocked her head, causing a lock of damp hair to fall over her shoulder. The end curled atop the gentle slope of her right breast, and he found himself unreasonably jealous of every single one of those golden filaments.
Is she not wearing a bra?
He was afraid to look and find out. If she wasn’t, then he’dreallybe incapable of staying on his side of the kitchen island.
“What was it like to be a kid in the mountains? What are your siblings like? Are your parents the type to bicker? Or are they the lovey-dovey sort to slow dance in the garage?”
He’d seen Becky and Boss do that last thing back in the shop on those nights when a deadline forced Becky to work late. Boss would put their girls to sleep in the portable cribs he kept in his office, and then he’d wander down to the first floor where Becky would inevitably grab his hand and say,“Dance with me.”
And Boss would.
Not well, mind you. The big oaf had two left feet.
Becky never seemed to mind, though. In fact, the way she stared up at Boss with such love shining in her eyes always made Hunter clear his throat and leave the room.
“Whew.” Grace grinned now. “That’s a lot of ground to cover.”
“You don’t have to answer any of it if you don’t want to,” he said, even though he hoped she would.
She’d come into his cabin, and by doing so, she’d gotten to know him. Therealhim. Not the stoic, tough military man he showed the world. But the side of him that liked handmade blankets and locally sourced pottery and the bits and bobs of colorful glass that washed up on the beach.
He was desperate to learn about her. All the elements of her life that had coalesced and culminated into making Grace Beacham the smart, witty, wonderful woman she was.
“I don’t mind answering.” She shrugged, and he felt a little jolt of anticipation. “It’s just…” She tapped her lips. “Where to start?”
Her eyes went a little dreamy then. And he thought, if he concentrated, he could see reflections of rolling green mountains and skies the color of a robin’s egg in her eyes.
“In the summer, the mountain laurels bloom and the whole place is vibrant with shades of pink,” she began, her voice filled with affection. “There are waterfalls and hiking trails and swimming holes fed by high elevation streams that stay chilly even in the middle of July.”
She took a sip of her lemonade before explaining, “The Appalachians aren’t like the Rockies. Winters aren’t harsh. But we still get snow a couple times a year, and it’s so clean and fluffy. The rolling terrain makes for some of the best sledding on the planet. Although you have to be careful.”
She pulled up the sleeve of her borrowed T-shirt and pointed to a small, crescent-shaped scar on her shoulder. “I got this when I was twelve. I was trying to impress Ricky Hollingsworth by taking my sled down thebighill, the one that was off-limits. I swear I was going forty miles-per-hour when I hit that hidden stump and got launched into a tree.”
The face she made was so self-deprecating, he fought a smile.
“Needless to say, Ricky was not impressed. Most especially because he had to cut his own sledding short so he could run home and have his momma call my momma to come get me and take me to the hospital for stitches.”
“So what you’re saying is you’ve always been daring. From sledding down thebighill straight to becoming an FBI agent.” He reached across the island and ran a finger over the scar, thrilled at how soft her skin was and beyond gratified when his touch caused goose bumps to erupt up the length of her arm. When he pulled back and she dropped the sleeve of the T-shirt, he noted her pupils had dilated.
He’d experienced the strange alchemy that was physical chemistry plenty of times. But there was something different about Grace. Touching her set him on fire and, at the same time, brought him comfort.
It was the damndest thing. That strange dichotomy. He couldn’t quite figure it out.
“Daring?” she countered with a wry twist of her lips. “Or dumb? Ever notice how it’s hard to tell the difference between the two? I mean, look at me, accused of murder and hiding from a hired killer. Not sure anyone would congratulate me right now on being the brightest star in the sky.”
It was easy to forget what’d brought them to the cabin when she was sitting across from him looking so fresh and sweet—and with the promise of what was to come hanging in the air between them. But her words brought reality crashing back in.
“We’re going to get you through this,” he assured her.
