Grace (The Family Simon #5)- Juliana Stone Page 0,10

in his eyes that pulled at her. Something deep. Something almost…painful. And that made her wonder. It also made her determined.

“So who is she?” Grace asked suddenly. Surprise lit up his eyes and truth be told, she was pretty surprised herself. Her heart and mind were racing but that didn’t matter. She was just going to go with it and screw the consequences.

“Who is…who?” Matt looked confused. Good. She wanted him off kilter.

Grace pushed off from the wall. “The redhead.” A heartbeat passed. “The redhead that you came here with.”

Matt was silent for a few seconds. “Her name is Sasha.”

“Sasha.” The name rolled off her lips. “She your girlfriend?”

Again. Surprise lit up his features. “No. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Huh. Didn’t think so.”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “Then why ask?”

She ignored his question and fired another one back at him. “When’s the last time you were in a relationship?”

He actually squirmed at the word and Grace pressed on, sensing that she was onto something.

“And by relationship, I don’t mean when’s the last time you screwed the same girl for more than a week. I mean, when were you in a relationship? You know, the grown-up kind.”

His eyes widened and then narrowed. And that generous mouth of his thinned. He grabbed his hat from his head and tossed it onto the countertop, regarding her warily.

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” He practically barked the words.

“You don’t need to. This is my time, Matt. You owe me.” She took a step toward him. “When was the last time you were in a grown-up, serious relationship?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” His voice was rough, his breaths falling faster. This dance they were doing, it was strange and exhilarating.

“Answer the question.” There was command in her voice. His eyes darkened, their glittery depths electric. The waters were rippling and she knew she’d hit a nerve.

Matt regarded her in silence for a good, long while without saying a word. He stared at her for so long that someone banged on the door earning a shout from Grace to use the men’s washroom. He stared at her for so long that Grace began to doubt herself. She was just about to throw up her hands and say to hell with it, when he spoke.

“Never.”

She blinked. Never? That was more than a little unexpected. Mouth dry, she paused, suddenly unsure of what to say or where to go from here.

“You look surprised,” Matt said.

“I am.”

He shrugged. Maybe to someone else he would have appeared nonchalant—as if he didn’t care. But she knew better. She saw it in his eyes.

“Why?” she asked, inching closer to him. “Why have you never let yourself get close to someone?”

He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, running his hands through his hair as he slowly shook his head. He was pulling away from her.

“You and Betty are close.” Her chest was tight and she clawed at the zipper of her jacket, undoing it a bit to ease the tension.

“Betty knows me.”

“I want to know you.” Had she just said that with her outside voice?

“Trust me, you don’t.” His response was curt with a hint of frost. He took a step sideways and Grace moved to block him. No way was he getting past her. Not now.

He glared at her, and she knew he was angry. Whatever. She was angry as well, and there was no way in hell he was going to dismiss her. Grace had grown up with four brothers and she’d learned early on to fight if she wanted to be heard.

“I told you in Nashville that I was no good for you.” A dangerous glint lit his eyes and instead of pulling back, he took a step toward her. “I wasn’t lying about that Grace. If you had any sense of self-preservation you’d hightail it the hell out of here right now and never look back.”

A thrill shot through her. He was so close she could smell that subtle scent that was all him. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled him and her heart ramped up again. She wavered a bit, a little dizzy, and put her hand on the wall to steady herself.

“I can look after myself,” she managed to say. (Which was a bloody miracle considering she felt as if she was falling.)

He took another step, his warm breath rolling over her. Into her. God, she was drowning in him. He had a lone freckle over his right eye and