Page 25 of His Saving Grace

She would swear she was a middle-schooler with her first crush. Except, this felt like so much more than that. Yes, it was an infatuation—possibly led by long-neglected hormones—but she had a feeling, if she let her infatuation loose, it could spiral into something deeper. A terrifying thought.

Which was the main reason why she needed to stay as far away from Mason Callahan as possible. Besides, she needed this job. She got paid well and she enjoyed the work. She didn’t think Eloise would appreciate her fooling around with one of her sons.

A snore brought her back to the present, and she glanced over. He’d finally passed out, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. She sighed and shook her head. He’d been unguarded tonight, vulnerable. And had trusted her with that side of himself.

Shit, you are in so much trouble.

It didn’t matter. Whatever she thought she felt for him stopped now. That treacherous path only led to sadness, heartache, despair. She refused to barrel down it in a car with no brakes, ever again. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and then torched it in the trash fire that was her former life. She needed to separate herself, not only from Mason, but from the entire family.

The turn off to the ranch came into view. The big, rustic archway that heralded you were about to cross onto the Triple C Ranch loomed large. She slowed down and turned into the driveway. Mason let out another snore. She rolled her eyes, but felt the hint of a smile tug at the edges of her mouth. She firmed her lips, refusing to be amused.

The lights from the house twinkled in the distance, and she was flooded by a sense of home. Dammit, see, that right there needed to stop. This was not her home, and never would be, just like the Callahans weren’t her real family. No matter how badly she wanted it to be true. And deep down, she wanted it so badly, sometimes she could hardly breathe.

You’re used to disappointment. Why should this be any different?

Exactly. At this point, it was about minimizing the hurt. Reason number one hundred and fifteen thousand why she needed distance. They’d been so nice to her, treating her like she was one of them, that she’d gotten caught up in the fantasy. A family she could talk and joke with, who always had her back no matter what, was something she’d dreamed about since she was a kid. But it had always just been her and her mom. And then, her mom had died and…

Just thinking about her mom and everything else that happened made her throat ache. She missed her mom so much, even though she’d been gone for a long time now. And now you’re letting Eloise fill the hole.

That unexpected thought sent a jolt through her. She was totally doing that. Letting Eloise and her sons into her life. Into her heart. Which was a huge mistake. Because, when this ended—and it would end—and she was forced to leave, she’d be the one picking up the pieces and carrying them around with her. And she was already staggering under the weight of her current baggage.

She pulled up as close as she could get to the house and turned off the truck. Mason gave a snort and a sigh, but didn’t awaken. She briefly considered leaving him out here for the night. It would serve him right for going out and getting wasted.

She couldn’t do it. Not only would he be uncomfortable, but she wasn’t that sort of person. Besides, she’d gone this far, might as well see it through to the end.

She placed her hand on his arm, and a spark of electricity made her fingers tingle. She gave him a little shake and tried not to be impressed by his massive bicep.

He awoke with a start, sitting up quickly. The seat belt strangled him and he choked. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“Home sweet home.” She kept her voice light.

An easy smile spread across his face, his gaze meeting hers and then sliding down to her toes, before rebounding. His eyes lingered on her breasts a little too long, and she cleared her throat. He shrugged, but didn’t seem the least bit repentant.

She opened the door and climbed out. The scents of the ranch—livestock and grass and dirt—hit her. A sense of peace washed through her. No, dammit, this is not your home.

She shoved the door closed with more force than necessary and made her way around the truck. Mason was still struggling with the seat belt. She pulled open his door and watched him, her hands on her hips, her head cocked to the side.

When he still didn’t have it unbuckled a few minutes later, she rolled her eyes. She knew the annoyance bubbling under skin had less to do with him, and more to do with her and her stupid feelings. “Here. Get out of the way.”

She leaned in and reached across his lap, her hand brushing his hip. He made a sound low in his throat, and she lifted her gaze to meet his.

His eyes were dark, a deep cobalt in the dim light. And filled with a tumult of emotions. Sadness, pain, anger. And heat. So much heat. She gulped in a quick breath. No one had looked at her with such heat in a long time. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

She popped the button on the seat belt and jumped back, banging into the open door.

Mason climbed out of the truck and right into her space. A wall of muscle. For the second time tonight, she wanted to grab on and not let go. Will you get a freaking grip already?

He swayed on his feet and, without thinking, she reached out and grabbed him. Yeah, that so wasn’t the kind of grip she meant. But apparently, her hands had other ideas. They slid across the soft cotton of his t-shirt and she marveled at the feel of his abs. Tight and firm and so damn hot.

That stupid thing, low in her belly, flared to life again. She refused to look up at him, kept her gaze locked on this chest. The heat in his eyes would kill her impartiality. She was at a tipping point, and she wasn’t about to lose.

“Come on,” she said, her voice a little too deep, a little too breathy. She slipped around to his side, anchoring her arm around his lower back. He draped his arm across her shoulder and leaned into her. Their bodies were flush, his hardness pressed against her softness. Why did he have to make this so complicated?

And now her brain was conjuring images of hard things. Naked, hard things. This was so not helping. She forced them away, concentrating on the task at hand. Getting Mason the hell in the house, and then getting as far away from him as she could.

She yanked him forward and then reached around and shoved the truck door closed. Somehow, all of his weight seemed to be centered on her, and she tried not to stagger. They made their way across the driveway, up the porch steps, and to the front door. It was much slower going than she wanted, but at least they hadn’t wiped out. She didn’t think she’d be able to get him off the ground if he took a header.

Grace leaned him against the house and dug his keys out of her pocket. She swung the door open and stood there, waiting for him to enter. But he didn’t. He just leaned there, his half-closed eyes trained on her.