“I took some meds and had a nap.” The words were slightly thick; the congestion hadn’t quite cleared, although she was feeling much better. The tip of her nose wasn’t even showing that much redness anymore. “It was no trouble getting them drawn up.”
She didn’t look up, but turned her attention back to the envelopes. “I wanted to get them here. I have a couple of jobs lined up for tomorrow.”
“While you’re sick?”
“I’m much better, thank you, and for your information my plan was to go home, make some soup and watch a movie with a blanket before falling blissfully into sleep and waking up completely cured.” She didn’t even attempt to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.
Mike waited several seconds before speaking again.
“It didn’t occur to you to maybe rest for a few days? Do you have a hard time telling people the word no?” he bit out.
She goggled at his sharp tone. So much for keeping her cool and not letting him get to her. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. How’s this? Do I want to discuss this with you again? No!” She spun away, fiddling with papers on the table without really seeing.
Why, oh why, was everything an argument with Mike these days? He’d always had this protective streak when it came to people he cared about. People like herself, like Connor. But lately, it was different. He acted almost like he was entitled to have a say in how she lived her life, and he absolutely did not.
“You couldn’t have heard me this morning.” She tried to muster her iciest tone, but failed when her plugged nose interfered. “I’m not discussing my schedule or health with you.”
“Well, that’s just fine.” Mike swept an arm wide. “That’s just great, Grace!”
The checks were forgotten behind her as she squared off. “You know, Mike, I’m not fond of this proprietary attitude you seem to have lately. What gives you the right to dictate to me how I live my life?”
“The right?” He took two steps forward until she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. “The fact that you obviously need someone to, instead of letting you make disastrous decisions!” His voice thundered throughout the room.
“Keep your voice down,” she warned. “There are other people in this house who are probably trying to rest.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, but didn’t move.
“This is my life, Mike,” she whispered harshly. “My decisions to make. My mistakes. Nobody—and that definitely includes you—is going to tell me what I can or can’t do. Frankly going to work when one has a cold can hardly be called a ‘disastrous’ decision.”
“I hate it that you look out for everyone else but yourself. Someday, Grace, that’s going to catch up with you, and then where will you be?”
With a sigh, he dropped his shoulders from their offensive stance.
Surprise had her rooted to the spot when his hand lifted and his fingers grazed the soft skin of her cheek.
“I just want to look out for you.”
The resistance drained from her body as her eyes fluttered closed against his touch, so suddenly tender and gentle. “I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe.” His other hand lifted so that now both his thumbs gently rubbed the crests of her cheekbones.
Her breath caught in her throat as she opened her eyes to find Mike’s staring down at her. Staring through her, right into her core, it seemed, his gray eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat.
“Why does it matter to you?”
“It matters.” His gaze dipped to her lips and clung there. “You matter.”
She swallowed. She mattered? To Mike? And he wasn’t looking at her now like he usually did. For the most part it was like they had never been more, like it was a blip on the road to where they were now. But now…friends didn’t stare at lips the way he was looking at hers, or let their fingers caress cheeks.
Still cupping her jaw, he leaned in, his mouth only a breath away as he whispered, “I just can’t let you get hurt, Grace…”
She reached up, circled his wrists with her hands and pulled them away from her face. She stepped back, putting distance between them. Longing still curled through her, a wanting that was almost too strong. She could feel his arms around her even though it had never happened. And it would be wrong, she realized.
“You can’t let me?” Her words were soft in the confused silence. She chanced a look at Mike. He was rooted to the spot, his brows pulled together. He didn’t understand. It was even more reason for her to pull away.
“You don’t get it, Mike. You say you can’t let me get hurt. And I can’t let you make decisions for me.” Not again, she almost added.
“Even when you make mistakes?”
“Then they’ll be my mistakes, not yours. Thank you for your concern, but it’s unwarranted.”
“You almost kissed me a moment ago.”
Her tummy flopped over. Yes, she had. And her body still hummed, yearning to know if kissing Mike would be the same. Or different. Or better. She’d been that close.
“I think you almost kissed me.” She tried to joke but it fell flat.
“Don’t do that. Don’t change the subject. There’s more going on here than you’ll admit.”
Memory hummed between them, drawing out the silence. What if things were changing between them? What then? Would he back off, leave her when it suited him? Would she give him the chance to do that again? Could her heart take it?
She’d said enough while they were dancing, and had no desire to humiliate herself again, or set herself up for heartbreak.
“That’s right, there is more going on,” she averred. “There’s you being very heavy-handed with me, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what to think right now.”
“That makes two of us.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit, Grace, I’m just trying to protect you.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t want or need your protection.”
“Fine. Then there’s nothing left for us to say.”
He spun from the room and seconds later the front door slammed. A few seconds after that, she heard Maren’s cry; the noise had awakened her from her nap. Johanna’s muffled voice filtered down from the upstairs. In a few moments they’d both be up and about and Grace wanted to be gone before that happened. The last thing she needed was more questions.
Hastily she shoved the final check in an envelope and scribbled a quick note, putting it all in the center of the table. When she went out to her car, Mike had left.
Men, she thought irrationally, slamming into the car and shoving it into gear. She was two miles down the road when something felt wrong. Grace pushed on the gas pedal, her eyes widening with alarm at the sudden loud clunk that shook the car. Everything seized…she cranked the wheel and her foot instantly hit the brake. Her head snapped forward, hitting the wheel just above her right eye.
She was finally stopped dead, square in the middle of the road. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears.
She couldn’t just sit here. She shifted into Park and then into Drive again. Nothing. She could not move.
“No, no, no,” she chanted, shifting again, desperate to get off the road. “Do not quit on me, baby.”
Unfortunately the vehicle wasn’t listening, because it stubbornly stayed in the middle of the dirt road. She turned off the engine,