"I wish you didn't have to go to work," she said, voice muffled by my skin. "I wish we could hole up here for days and just eat in bed and watch movies and watch the sunset in your backyard and drink coffee right here."
"I wish that too," I told her, setting my chin on the top of her head. "If there was any way I could disappear for a day or two, trust me, I would. But it's too precarious at the office."
Grace lifted her chin to look up at me. "What happened?"
My hand followed the curve of her shoulder and moved down her back again. There was no way for me to tell her without unloading a metric ton of guilt onto her plate for the current state of Haywood and Haywood. And in reality, it wasn't her fault, just like it wasn't mine, but I felt guilty all the same. "Some client stuff that's got my dad pretty on edge."
The look in her eyes was so observant, so astute, that I held my breath and waited for her to push me on my answer.
"I'm sorry," was all she said.
Hiding away in my house with her sounded extravagant. And perfect. And impossible.
"Something changes in your eyes when you think about work," she told me. Grace reached up and cupped the side of my face. "You look exhausted, just from the mention of it."
I hummed, turning so I could drop a kiss into her palm. "I don't doubt it. I still can't get over that you're the first one to see it, Pretty Girl."
"People see what they want to, for the most part. And if they're never corrected on those assumptions, there's not much point in looking deeper."
"You did though." I pressed her fingertips to my mouth and thought about that day at the fairgrounds. "You saw through me like I was cellophane."
Her smile was a little sad.
"What's that face?" I asked, tucking my thumb under her chin.
"Just thinking about how you have to go off to a job you hate, because you feel like you have to, and nobody but me sees what it's doing to you."
This woman was going to be the death of me, with her big eyes and smart mouth and observant mind, and I had no desire to avert the impending fallout. All I could do was delay it so that the impact would be minimized.
"You know what makes me sad?"
"What?" Her hands settled on my chest.
"Thinking about half the men in Green Valley wanting to line up for a kiss from these lips."
Grace laughed. If she noticed my subject shift, she didn't call me on it, allowing me to duck down for more of the kisses I didn't want to share.
Chapter 48 Grace
After that night at Tucker’s, that sexy, sweet night, it took a week of sneaking around before I had my first ‘this is bullshit’ moment. Up until the ‘this is bullshit’ moment, it was easy to get lost in kisses and cuddling and talking for hours. It was easy to straddle him in his big bed and snap pictures of his wide, handsome smile. To eat takeout on his couch or mine, snuggled under a blanket, watching movies.
The moment happened on day eight (day one being the excellent first sex experience), when I found myself cornered in the Fiction E-H aisle of the Green Valley Public Library.
Hushed whispers and the sound of gently tapping keys were all I could hear as I ran my fingers along the spines of the books. I wasn’t even sure what I was in the mood for, but Aunt Fran was busy, Grady was fishing, and my camera needed some new material.
Tucker: What are you up to?
Tucker: In between meetings and thinking about you.
I smiled, tapping out my response.
Me: Around the corner from you at the library. Maybe I’ll find a Kama Sutra tucked into a secret shelf and we can throw our backs out trying new things.
I laughed under my breath when the dots appeared on the screen, then disappeared, then popped back up again. Rendering him speechless was fun.
A librarian pushed a cart past me, her polite smile masking the blatant curiosity in her eyes.
“Can I help you find something?”
I shook my head. “No, just looking, thank you.” When I noticed her eyes drop to the camera slung around my neck, I lifted it up. “Do you mind if I take some pictures in here?”
One eyebrow lifted slowly.
“I’m making a … it’s for a project,” I explained. “Nothing will get printed or used without permission, I promise.”
She shelved another book carefully, no rush to her movements. “I heard about your pictures.”
Of course, she did. I’d never met this woman, and somehow she knew. I waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t.
“If you’d prefer that I go somewhere else, I can.”
Her fingers drummed on the handle of the cart. “Why the library?”
“Why not?”
She sighed, and even though there was a weight to it, she didn’t argue, simply shook her head and went back to work.
“All right. I guess that’s fine.”
Her answer given, the woman worked methodically, finger running along the white label on each book, then sliding it perfectly into place. She made sure the spines were aligned perfectly, a light smile lifting her face when they were.
My camera was up in front of my eyes before I even realized I’d lifted it.
The click of the shutter was impossibly loud in the aisle, and she froze.
“You’re taking pictures of me?” The book in her hand was now clutched to her chest.
I gave her an encouraging smile. “I like how focused you are. How carefully you do your job.”
She swallowed. “Can I see it?”
Pulling the strap from around my neck, I turned the digital display so I could show her. “Once I edit it, it’ll look more polished. The light is pretty
