Grace (The Family Simon #5)- Juliana Stone Page 0,38
kiss. Or an attempt at a kiss. Had she gotten this all wrong?
She was just about to turn tail and flee when he spoke.
“Let’s go.”
She hesitated, maybe would have run off if not for his hand sliding over hers. He said a quick goodbye to Betty (who was looking at Matt as if he’d suddenly grown two heads), and then led her out of the back of the building to where his truck was parked. They climbed inside and he asked Grace if she needed anything.
“I’ve got my bag. I’m good.”
And that was it. Neither one of them spoke on the drive out to his place. And the closer they got, the more insecure Grace became. By the time they pulled up to his house, she was in a state, biting her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood.
Matt cut the engine and for a few moments they sat in the truck, staring up at his house.
“We should talk,” Matt said, breaking the silence.
She glanced over to him. “Do you really want me here or were you just being polite because I forced the issue in front of Betty?”
He looked at her, those intense eyes of his not letting go. “If I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have brought you back.” He paused and his words sank in. “I’ve never wanted a woman the way that I want you. That’s something new for me. Something I’ve got to wrap my head around. So I might screw up now and again because I don’t know how to do this. But I want to try.”
Her heart was pounding so hard that it was hard for her to hear him and she exhaled a long, shaky breath.
He opened his door. “So let’s do this. Let’s get to know each other.”
“Okay,” she breathed and followed him inside. After doffing her winter coat and boots, Grace and Matt headed to the back of the house where she immediately scooped up the smallest puppy and nuzzled him while Matt helped Rosie outside. The dog was still in casts and the poor thing was totally dependent on human help.
“Why don’t you shower and I’ll throw some dinner together.” Matt leaned against the counter. “Towels are in the cabinet in the hall.”
Grace grabbed her bag and headed up to his room. She had a long, hot shower and took her time getting ready. As anxious as she was to see him, the nerves had a way of making everything so much harder. Dammit, she was no better than an infatuated teenager.
She had to stop and take a moment. She glanced in the mirror, noting the pink cheeks and shiny eyes. The butterflies in her stomach were something else, and as her phone pinged for what had to be the tenth time since she’d been up here, the damn butterflies decided to have a party all over again, making her nauseous.
“Leave me alone,” she muttered, grabbing her phone off of Matt’s bed. Two voicemails from Tucker, and one from her mother. She’d deal with them later.
Grace tossed the phone back into her bag and smoothed the front of her fitted, white Calvin Klein button shirt. A favorite, it dressed up her faded, comfy jeans—and paired with a wide leather belt and black combat boots, her look had a bit of edge.
She’d left her hair in long, loose, waves, but had taken some extra time with her makeup. A bit of dark gray shadow and liner made her eyes pop, and she dug out a favorite soft pink gloss for her lips. She applied a few squirts from her body spray and she was good to go.
By the time she made it to the kitchen, it was alive with some incredible smells and Grace was impressed.
Matt had music playing softly, an old classic by Lynard Skynard, and she hummed along to it as she made her way over to the island. A glass of red wine had been poured, and Grace slid onto one of the barstools, content to just watch Matt at work.
Was there anything sexier than a man in the kitchen?
Matt glanced over to her and smiled, though it slowly faded as she held his gaze—as she licked her lips suggestively—and took a sip of wine. In that moment she glimpsed the real, unfiltered, Matt Hawkins—there was no barrier, no mask to hide his feelings.
He wanted her and she wanted him. The man literally took her breath away.