Page 31 of His Saving Grace

“No, no, that’s okay,” Grace said, extracting her hand from Eloise’s grip. She slipped past her and headed to the back door. “I’m not hungry. I’m just going to go.”

She kept her gaze locked on the door, refusing to look at either Eloise or Jake. Freedom was just mere steps away. She reached for the knob. The door opened before she made contact. She pulled her hand back, placing it at against her throat in an attempt to stop her heart from crawling away.

Declan stepped into the kitchen. There were frigging Callahans everywhere. He smiled at her, and she gave him a polite little nod, but didn’t stop. She rushed past him and out the door. She reached back to pull the door closed behind her, and Bella darted out onto the porch.

Grace was too tired to fight with the dog. She sighed and pulled the door closed. It was shaping up to be another beautiful day, the sun already beginning its climb through the pristine azure sky. Too bad Grace planned on locking herself in the guest house and not coming out. Maybe ever.

She strode across the porch and down onto the grass. Okay, so, maybe ever was a slight exaggeration. But she needed to wait until this whole thing blew over. Hopefully, some other family drama would come up and everyone would forget about her and Mason.

And speaking of Mason, this whatever it was between them stopped now. No more getting caught in the moment or deciding something and then changing her mind when he flashed her a smile. Not that he was all that smiley, at least when he wasn’t drunk.

But it didn’t matter. If she couldn’t control her impulses, then she needed to avoid him. Get rid of the temptation and she couldn’t succumb. It was a perfect plan.

Bella trotted beside her as she made her way across the backyard to the safety if the guesthouse. Grace reached down and patted the dog’s head.

Except, the living spaces at the ranch weren’t that large. It was going to be difficult, but not impossible, to avoid Mason. It did mean, though, that eating with the family at mealtimes was out of the question. Along with any other family gatherings.

And she was not disappointed. The pressure in her chest was because she was tired and stressed. Not the Callahan’s. Or the fact they were the family she’d always craved.

It was safer that she stayed alone, anyway. For everyone.

Grace hightailed it out of the bedroom so fast, all Mason could do was stare. He didn’t even get to say anything. One minute she was there, the next he was alone. He sat up, attempting to go after her so they could discuss what happened. As soon as he was vertical, a sharp pain lanced his skull. The after effects of the alcohol kicking his ass.

With a groan, he dropped back on the bed. But it was too late. The hangover had sunk its claws deep, and now that his lovely distraction had disappeared, it was making sure he noticed. He could already tell it wasn’t going to let go easily. He threw his arm over his eyes, willing the pounding in his head to subside long enough for him to function.

His tongue felt like he’d spent the evening licking the felt on a pool table. He rolled onto his side and his stomach did a somersault. He took a deep breath through his nose. The last thing he needed was to barf all over the place.

Yeah, it would definitely be awhile before he’d be able to even look at a glass of whiskey. He just hoped he hadn’t made too much of an ass of himself.

The poster of the half-naked girl sprawled on the hood of a pickup truck stared back at him. He focused on it, trying and keep his mind blank. Blank meant his head didn’t hurt so much. His stomach gurgled threateningly. He pulled in a deep breath through his nose and slowly pushed it out between his lips. And then he did it again.

By the time his mother breezed through the door twenty minutes later, the worst of the queasiness had subsided, but he groaned anyway. He turned over onto his back, and his stomach rolled. His nausea ramped back up. What did a guy have to do to suffer in peace around here?

Eloise stopped next to the bed, planting her hands on her hips. She had a wooden spoon clutched in her hand and for a moment, he was nine years old again. The scent of breakfast clung to her, as if she’d been in the middle of cooking when she decided he needed a whipping. The smell almost made him gag. He pressed the rising bile back down his throat and sat up, more gingerly this time.

“What are your intentions?”

“I’m sorry, Mama, but you’re going to have to be a little more specific. My brain isn’t working at full capacity this morning.” He pressed his palm over his left eye, trying to stop the ache his change in elevation created.

She pursed her lips, the movement pulling her perfectly manicured eyebrows together. Her foot tapped an impatient tick, tick, tick against the floor, letting him know she was just about at the end of her tether. “What are your intentions with Grace?”

Ah, he should have guessed. Jake was as bad as a twelve-year-old girl when it came to gossip. As soon as he’d left, he’d probably made a beeline for their mother. “There’s nothing going on between Grace and me.”

Besides, he was thirty-three years old. He didn’t need anyone’s permission. Not that he wanted to see Grace in a romantic way. Last night had been a mistake, one he wouldn’t be repeating.

His palm tingled where he’d held her breast. He wouldn’t think about that, or where it might have led. Because it led nowhere. He knew nothing about the woman, other than she was hiding something and her skin was as smooth as silk. He absolutely did not want to peel her out of her clothes and touch every inch of her satiny flesh.

His cock started to harden, and he lifted his leg to hide the evidence of his arousal. That was not a conversation he was having with his mother this morning. Or ever.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your brothers when she came to the ranch.” Eloise waved the wooden spoon in his direction, and he was mortified when he flinched. Too many memories of the spoon meeting his butt not to. “You leave that girl alone. She is not to be bothered by you, or anyone else, while she lives here. Is that understood?”

He nodded, and another shot of agony barreled through his skull. “Yes, ma’am.”

He didn’t mention that Grace had been a willing guest in his bed last night, even if nothing happened. And he was pretty sure nothing had, other than the touchy feely part this morning. He’d been pretty drunk, but he would’ve remembered sex.

Eloise bent down and picked up his t-shirt and jeans, tucking them under the arm not clutching the spoon. There was a steely, serious glint in her eyes, and yet, she was still going to do his laundry. For some reason, that made his chest ache a little, the pain having nothing to do with his hangover.

“I mean it, Mason.”

“Nothing happened.”

“You just make sure it stays that way.”

He refrained from telling his mother that if he and Grace, two consenting adults, wanted to have a relationship, no matter what kind, she couldn’t stop them. Not that he was contemplating anything of the sort. He currently had enough shit going on. He didn’t need to add to his aggravation. Getting involved with the woman his mother had taken under her wing was suicidal.

Besides, he liked that the wooden spoon his mother brandished had yet to make contact with his flesh. He wanted to keep it that way.

“I’m serious, Mason.” She waved the spoon in his direction one more time. He didn’t flinch this time. This morning, he’d take it as a win.

Whatever she saw on his face must have satisfied her, because her attitude shifted, and she smiled. “Now, why don’t you get dressed and come down for breakfast. I’ve got eggs and bacon and sausage—”

His stomach gurgled at the mention of the food. He took a deep breath and willed his body to relax. But it was too late. His stomach lurched and his mouth filled with saliva. He threw back the covers, tuning out whatever else she had to say, and raced out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. With a groan, he fumbled to flush the toilet and then leaned his head against the cool porcelain of the bowl.

He heard his mother make her way down the hall and then down the stairs. Was that a chuckle? Did she just laugh at him?

Seriously, what did a guy need to do to die with a little dignity around here?