"That was fast." His lips turned up after studying her attire.
She gave a casual shrug. "Riding four-wheelers and shooting guns don't require much effort."
"They do however require shoes." Arching a single brow, Damon looked pointedly at her feet.
Grace hurried down the hall again, this time with her mom and Damon's chuckles following her. She'd been in such a hurry to cut their conversation short that she forgot an essential accessory. Deep down, she knew her mom would never tell Damon the one thing she didn't share with anyone—the one thing she feared would send him packing—so she wasn't surewhy she was so worried about him talking to her mom. But she was.
She hurried back to the living room after putting on her tennis shoes. "Okay, now I'm ready."
Damon got to his feet, then bent and squeezed her mom's hand. "Marisol, it was nice to visit with you. I look forward to doing it again." He looked at Grace as he motioned toward the door. "Shall we?"
She turned to her mom. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, but there's some leftovers and your protein drinks in the fridge that you can have for lunch."
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." Mom shooed her toward the door. "Have fun."
A twinge of guilt hit Grace as she closed the door behind her. She looked forward to experiencing something new today, but she felt bad about leaving her mom again.
"What did you and my mom talk about?" Grace asked as soon as they were in Damon's rental car headed toward the ranch.
"You, of course."
Grace's stomach clenched. "What did she tell you about me?"
"Not nearly as much as I would have liked, since you got ready so fast." He laughed when she scowled. "Actually, she kept asking me questions about myself, so we didn't get to discuss you very much."
"Good."
"Why is that good?" He gave her a lengthy glance before shifting his gaze back to the road. His voice turned teasing. "Do you have skeletons in your closet that you don't want me to know about?"
She'd never been one to talk about herself, but ever since she made such a huge mistake in high school, she'd been guarded. It was easier to keep from sharing certain things about her life if she kept to herself.
When she didn't answer, he looked her way again. "Why does it bother you so much that your mom might tell me something about you?"
"It doesn't." She had to force the words out, because itdidbother her, but she didn't understand why.
Was it because she feared he'd learn something about her that would make him not like her? Conflicting emotions swirled inside her, making her nauseous. She'd made it a point to not impress him, but she couldn't seem to stop worrying about what he thought of her.
She gave a small shrug. "It's not fair that you get to hear about me from my mom, but I don't get to do the same."
He laughed. "I'm sure my mom would be all too happy to tell you what a hellion I was as a child. I was never diagnosed, but I'm pretty sure I had—or rather have—ADHD. I could never sit still for long and was always getting into trouble." He held up a hand. "Not serious trouble, like with the law or anything, but I was always making messes and getting chewed out."
What would Damon think if she told him she was arrested for under-age drinking? Would he judge her for what happened that night at the party because she'd been stupid enough to get drunk?
Deciding it was best to change the subject, she asked, "So do I get another driving lesson in the truck before we ride 4-wheelers?"
"Sure."
They spent the remainder of the drive to the ranch chatting about interesting things to do in a small town. After practicing driving a stick shift again, Damon gave her a safety lesson on ATVs and showed her how to drive one.
He had her ride with him for a while as he demonstrated how to drive the ATV. Sitting behind him with her arms aroundhis waist, her hands against his washboard abs ramped up her attraction, stirring a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.
“Okay, your turn to drive,” he finally announced.
“What? No, I’m not ready yet.”
“You got this.”
He climbed off, and she scooted forward.
