Because she was his friend, first and foremost, and he was torn between the girl she’d been and the woman she’d become. Stupid thing was, he had this uncanny urge to protect them both.
He wandered through the jobsite, joking with the men, grabbing a shovel and helping out. Still, she remained on his mind. Earlier in the summer, at the anniversary party for the Riley’s, Grace had indulged in a few too many vodka coolers and he’d laughingly danced with her. Old friends. Only she’d smiled up at him widely and said, “Mike, you’re so pretty.”
He’d made a joke of it but she’d been undaunted. “I bet you’re good in the sack, too. We’ve been ssspeculating.” She swept an arm to encompass a group of young women, all giggling behind their hands and watching Mike and Grace dance. “All that…mmm,” she’d finished, her eyelids drifting closed as she swayed her hips to the music.
He’d been shocked, to put it mildly, and more than a little embarrassed. Grace had come on to him and he hadn’t had a clue how to answer. He’d thought she’d put their fling in the past, especially when she’d moved to Edmonton and married. Heck, he’d only been back in town permanently since spring, setting up business with Connor. As they moved to the music, her curves felt soft and sexy in his arms and he’d asked plainly, “You think about that?”
She’d suddenly seemed to realize what she’d said, because her posture straightened and she’d colored to the hue of fireweed. “Shut up,” she’d snapped, trying to cover. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Her quick change of tone had relaxed him, giving him the upper hand again and he’d managed to tease her about it.
But the problem was, it had gone to his head. He’d done nothing but think of it since. Wondering how they’d be together. Wanting to kiss her, wondering if it would be the same as he remembered. Wanting to hold her—all night long. In his mind he could see what being with Grace would be like.
But Grace deserved more than an ex-saddle bronc rider with a spotted past, and he knew it. And somehow, he was going to show her that he was more than that. He just needed more time.
Mike halted before the screen door, taking a deep breath. He’d been too hard on her, he’d realized. He hated seeing her working so much, but somehow all his well-intentioned concern had come out wrong and now she had gotten angry with him. Hopefully she wasn’t still, but just in case, he’d cut across the field and come home along the ditch after leaving the building site.
He resisted the strange urge to knock. Instead he swung the door open and stepped inside.
He left his boots on the mat and made his way to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, watching Grace as she moved about the room.
Her slacks and blouse were protected by a flowered cobbler apron that she’d borrowed. As she carried plates to the table, the scent of frying chicken filled the air.
“Your table’s missing something.”
Her head snapped up. “When did you come in?”
“Just a minute ago. Supper smells great.”
She resumed setting the table. “It’s only chicken and salads. Something we can eat whenever they arrive. I dressed Maren and Johanna took her in. They’re all coming back together.”
“I thought you could use some decoration.” He stepped inside the room, holding out his hand.
“Flowers. You picked flowers?” Her fingers put down the cutlery as she stared at him.
“I thought they might make things a little more special.” He handed them to her, a mass of daisies and greenery he couldn’t name but knew by sight. He hadn’t picked weeds for a woman since he was in primary school and he’d tried to impress one of his foster moms.
Grace took the blooms from his hand, and he suddenly realized that he hadn’t exactly given them to her. He’d made it sound like they were for a centerpiece, that was all.
“I also thought they might soften you up for my apology.”
Her hands stilled over the vase she’d taken from the top of a pine buffet in the corner. “Apology?”
“I’m sorry we fought earlier.” He couldn’t bring himself to say he was sorry for everything. He found he wasn’t sorry for being concerned about her welfare. But he was sorry for upsetting her.
She turned to look at him, the vase of flowers in her hands. “I am, too.”
Their gazes met across the room. Lord, she had a way of looking at a man that made him want to do all sorts of things for her. Her lips were open just a hint, ripe for kissing, and her eyes were soft and wide. For a fleeting moment he wondered what she’d do if he simply closed the distance between them and kissed her like he’d wanted to for weeks. But the timing was wrong and the moment passed. Grace looked away.
“I was just worried, that’s all. I’ve known you a long time, Grace. I just want you to look after yourself.”
She put the flowers in the middle of the table and stood back. “Thanks for your concern, Mike, but it’s not necessary. I’ve been looking after myself for a while now.” She moved back to the stove, taking the lid off the electric frying pan and capably turning the chicken with metal tongs.
Of course she had, he acknowledged silently. She’d been back in town for what, five or six years? Living on her own all that time. Without him. But that didn’t stop the protective streak that seemed to rear its head every time she was around.
The screen door opened and voices filtered through the hall to the kitchen. “I think they’ve arrived,” Grace remarked, grabbing a platter. “Timing’s good, too. Chicken’s done.”
When Alex and Connor entered, Maren on Connor’s arm, Mike forced a smile. “Welcome home.”
Alex’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, you guys, you shouldn’t have.” She walked carefully, like she was afraid of breaking something. She looked over her shoulder at Johanna, then to the stove and Grace who was standing with the platter of chicken in her hands.
“You did this?”
“It was Mike’s idea. Be thankful I did the cooking and not him.”
Everyone laughed, including Mike who agreed. “I’ll make the coffee. Everything else I’ll trust to Grace.”
“Wise move,” Grace countered, but he was gratified to see her treat him to a genuine smile.
Alex’s smile widened and she leaned up to give Mike a quick hug. “You softie,” she whispered in his ear.
“Be quiet. That’s a secret,” he whispered back. Straightening, he chided her. “No work. We’re going to look after everything so you can just look after that bundle in there.” He pointed at her belly.
“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Connor said, putting Maren in her high chair and handing her a cracker. “Nothing’s more important than looking after our baby.”
Mike looked at Grace. Her face carried a strange expression as she looked at Alex. He’d almost swear she looked…wounded, he supposed. Her eyes were luminous, wide with hurt. He’d never quite seen that look before and didn’t know what to make of it. There was concern, he was sure, but there was something else. A deep, lingering sadness. But why would seeing Alex make her sad?
She caught him watching her and pasted on a smile, the expression disappearing as if it had never been. “Put the chicken on, will you, Mike? I’ll get the rest of the food out of the fridge.”
They