Susan Mallery - Falling for Gracie

“You didn’t know.”

“Is that a good excuse?” he asked, still staring at the ocean. “I don’t think so. She was alone. That’s the worst of it. She died in the county hospital by herself. Her selfish son couldn’t be bothered to get his ass back in a timely fashion. And her own brother, who lived right in town, didn’t bother going to see her.”

Gracie rose to her knees and stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Donovan Whitefield kept his word. He never forgave his sister.” Riley looked at Gracie. “I found her letters later. The ones he’d returned without ever opening them. She begged him for money to pay for treatment. What I sent her wasn’t nearly enough and she knew that back then I couldn’t have afforded medical treatments. So she asked him, and he didn’t even bother to read them.”

She made a noise low in her throat then threw herself at him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing against him and shaking.

He stiffened, not sure what to do with her sympathy, then he wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“It’s not.” She raised her head and looked at him. He thought he saw tears on her cheeks, but he wasn’t sure. “None of it is okay. You’re carrying around all this guilt, but it’s not your fault. You didn’t make your mother sick and you didn’t know you had to come back.”

So Gracie wanted to make it all right for him. Didn’t she know that wasn’t possible?

“I did after she told me,” he said flatly.

“But she could have made it more clear. You’re not psychic. Okay, yes, you’re guilty of not hurrying, but that’s all. The rest of it… How could your uncle have done that? How could he have turned his back on her? I might not like Alexis and Vivian very much right now, but I would never turn them away. Especially with something like that.”

Riley doubted Gracie would turn away a rabid dog if it needed help.

“You need to understand I’m long past saving,” he said. “I’ve made my peace with the past.” Although “peace” might be the wrong word. He’d accepted what had happened and decided how he was going to make it right.

She cupped his face in her hands. “You haven’t found peace. You’re still angry.”

He liked that she could read him so well. “I’ll get over it.”

Gracie wasn’t sure that was possible. How was Riley supposed to accept all that had happened and move on? She could feel the pain inside of him. It radiated from him and made her ache inside. She wanted to surround him and hold him until he began to heal.

She wanted to return to the past and prevent it all from happening.

He was good and strong and decent. He didn’t deserve all this.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, still cupping his face. “I hate that Mayor Yardley took a very personal, painful piece of your past and used it to make himself look better. It’s slimy and horrible.”

“Is he a big old poop head, too?”

“He’s on the poop head management team.” She wiped her tears. “How could he do that? It’s so horrible. And now people are going to think badly of you. It’s not right.”

“I’ll survive,” he said.

“What you need is to win the election. Can I do anything to help?”

“I’ll let you know if we come up with a plan that includes you.”

“I don’t mind knocking on doors and telling people I’m not pregnant.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “That would get their attention. Why don’t we wait until we’re sure you’re not pregnant before heading in that direction.”

“Oh. Right. Good point.” She slumped down next to him. She didn’t want to think about a baby right now. “I don’t think I could handle one more thing.”

“You mean between your sister who’s getting married, the one freaking out about her husband, the cakes you have to bake, Pam, the mayor telling everyone we’ve had sex and the fact that you might be pregnant?” he asked.

She groaned. “Gee, when you put it like that, I barely have anything going on anymore. Is your list better or worse?”

“It’s different. My father showed up today.”

She didn’t think there was anything else that could shock her, but she was wrong.

“Your father? Here?”

“At the bank,” he said as he slid his hand into her hair and finger combed it to the ends. “It’s been twenty-two years and I still recognized him. I guess that says something.”

She didn’t know what to think. “He wanted to see you?”

Riley gave a laugh that had nothing to do with humor. “No. He wanted money. There was no ‘Hey, son, how’s it going.’ He just asked me to write him a check because he’s running a little short this month.”

She felt as if someone had drop-kicked her heart. Riley spoke as if it didn’t matter, but she knew the pain of being abandoned by a parent. Maybe her situation was a little different, but the loss was very similar.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It happened. I threw him out but he’ll be back. Hell, I’ll probably give him the money just to get rid of him.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated and wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t know how to make this all better.”

“Not your job.”

“I know, but I still want to fix it. Make things better.” She reached up and touched his face. “Come home with me.”

Nothing about his expression changed. “That’s a short-term solution.”

“It’s the best I have right now.”

“I’m not complaining.”

GRACIE WONDERED if she would fight second thoughts on the drive back to his house. The night was dark, the car silent. Their only communication came from his hand holding hers, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand.

Her body was an odd combination of tension and relaxation. While the thought of them making love again had her quivering from the inside out, she also felt completely calm. As if this decision had been made a millennia ago and she was simply fulfilling her destiny.

“Want to stay at my place?” he asked quietly as they got close to the large mansion. “You could pull your car into the garage.”

“That sounds good,” she said.

He drove into the driveway and hit the remote control button. As the large double garage door opened, she slid out and walked around the corner to her car.

Five minutes later, she’d parked next to him and followed him into the massive kitchen. As it had before, the sight of the large, open space made her cake-baker heart beat faster.

“Kitchen envy,” she said with a sigh. “I need a twelve-step program to recover.”

“Can we take care of that later?”

“Sure.”

He crossed to the refrigerator. “Hungry?”

She followed him and tried to peer over his shoulder. “You have food?”

“I have take-out leftovers.” He grabbed a chilling bottle of champagne, then stepped back. “See anything you like?”

She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the champagne long enough to make a menu selection.

“Did you just happen to have that chilling in anticipation of the three F’s or…”

He coiled his free hand in her hair, tugged her head back, then pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was hot, quick and full of promise.

“I bought it yesterday.”

Passion flooded her brain, making it difficult to concentrate. “You mean after we…”

His dark gaze locked with hers. “After we made love. Yes. This isn’t generic, I-hope-I-get-lucky champagne. I bought it for you, Gracie.”

Her bare toes curled. She didn’t remember a man buying champagne for her before. Certainly not-she glanced at the label-Dom Perignon.

She closed the refrigerator door with a bump of her hip. “I’m not very hungry. For food.”

He smiled. “Good.”

He walked to a cabinet and removed two champagne glasses, then jerked his head toward the hallway.

“Shall we?”

“Absolutely.”

She followed him to the wide, curving staircase. On her last visit to his house, the tour hadn’t gotten this far. She noted several portraits on the walls. Previous generations of Whitefields, she wondered. But she didn’t want to spoil the mood by asking.

The staircase continued up to a third floor, but Riley stopped on the second and made a left turn. They passed four or five other rooms before he pushed open the door of one and stepped inside.

Gracie wasn’t sure what to expect. She didn’t know if Riley wanted to sleep in his grandfather’s bed to prove that he could or if he would choose another space. As she glanced around she saw that he’d apparently picked a more neutral space-what looked like a simply furnished guest room with a large bed, two nightstands and a dresser. The light from the hall spilled onto a pale carpet. The walls looked either blue or green-she couldn’t tell.

Riley set the champagne on the dresser and unwrapped the foil. Seconds later, he popped the cork and poured them each a glass.

“I’ve never had champagne this fancy,” she said as she took the slender flute he offered and then sipped.

The bubbles bounced off her tongue-the flavor was light, delicious, almost sweet and addictive.

“Do you like it?” he asked when she’d swallowed.

“Very much. Unfortunately, it’s not going to fit in my budget.”

“Save it for special occasions,” he said as he took a sip, then set his glass on the dresser and moved close.

She started to say there was no point-that for the rest of her life whenever she saw the distinctive shape of a bottle of Dom Perignon, she would always think of him. Instead she moved over so she could put her glass on the nightstand, then watched as he stepped close and took her in his arms.

The first time they’d made love, there had been a frantic quality about the joining. She’d wanted with a desperation that hadn’t allowed her to do much more than feel. This time she was able to think as well as experience and she tried to pay attention to every detail so she could relive it later.