I was startled out of my thoughts by a loud, pounding knock on my door. I furrowed my brow. Who the heck knocked like that?

I got up, leaving the blanket behind me on the couch, walking to the door in my cotton p.j. pants and white tank top.

I didn't have a peephole on my door so I called, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Grace," I heard a deep voice say. Crap! Carson.

I stood on the other side of the door biting my thumbnail for a minute, thinking about what I should do.

"Grace, open the door," he finally said from the other side. "Please," he added after a couple seconds.

I sighed and pulled the door open, the cool, December night air hitting me.

Carson stood there in all his masculine perfection, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket. He was so damn good-looking, I hated it. I really did. It would be a lot easier to dismiss him if he was a fugly troll. Life was cruel that way.

Carson's eyes moved down my body and stopped at my chest. I realized I wasn't wearing a bra and that I was sure the cold had made my nipples harden. I crossed my arms.

"What do you want, Carson?" I asked. I was tired.

"Can I come in? I just want to talk for a minute and then I'll leave." He looked at me beseechingly.

I paused but stepped back, letting him in. I supposed we did need to put this to rest, since I hadn't exactly done a very good job the day before.

He walked past me and then stood waiting as I closed the door. I didn't lock it though. He'd be leaving soon.

I walked past him and parked myself back on the couch, bringing the blanket back up around me. He followed me in and sat on the opposite side of the couch, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs.

"Josh Garner made bail this morning," he said. "I guess you know that."

"Yes," I said back. "A bail bondsman posted it." I frowned. The bail was too much for a bondsman. I thought someone else had to have posted it. I didn't know who. But I wasn't going to talk to Carson about that now. If he'd even know.

He nodded, looking at me, but not saying a word. It looked like he was struggling with whether to say something. Finally, he shook his head slightly and looked away. When he looked back, he said, "We should talk about yesterday morning. I owe you an apology."

I let out a breath. "Carson…" I leaned back, bringing my hands up over my face. I ran them back through my hair and looked over at him. He was staring at me intently.

I laughed slightly and shook my head.

"What?" he asked.

"You don't owe me an apology. I let you do what you… did. I wanted what you did." I looked away. "That was probably obvious." I felt my cheeks heat.

"But," I went on, "it wasn't right. On my part. Not on yours. You're not the one who made promises to someone and broke them." With my words, sadness washed through me. I was a terrible person.

He was silent for a second, his forehead creased, seeming to be working out a puzzle.

"What I was trying to say with my apology," he said softly, "is that I'm sorry for coming on so strong." He paused, squinting very slightly as if he wasn't exactly sure if he really was sorry for that. After a couple seconds he went on, "But I meant every word I said. Every word. No games on my part."

I shook my head slowly. "Carson, you had just been messing around with a cocktail waitress in your office before I walked in!" I yelled out.

He jolted slightly and then looked at me for a beat before he burst out laughing.

"I wasn't doing anything with Kira. Yeah, she throws herself at me every day of the week, but I've never touched her." He paused studying me for a second. "You didn't realize that after what we did?" he asked, pursing his lips.

"How would I know that?" I shot back. "I barely know you."

"You know me better than anyone, Buttercup," he clipped out, his eyes flaring. And then more gently, "And I know you better than anyone. Even after all this time."

My mouth fell open. "Well, that's presumptuous. I think my fiancé knows me better than anyone."

As he stared at me, I saw a small tick in his jaw. "Really Grace?" he raised an eyebrow.

I narrowed my eyes. I knew exactly what he was referring to. "I should have never told you that. It's none of your business and I refuse to speak about it with you again. Look at us! We can't even spend three minutes together without fighting or kissing!"

He laughed. "Is that such a bad thing?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but didn't say anything. "Yes! Yes it is. I need to focus… I need to… stop cheating on my fiancé!" I blurted out.

Carson's face went completely serious. "You're not in love with him, Grace. I don't want you to cheat on your fiancé either. Break it off." He looked into my eyes. "Please."

I stared at him, emotions rushing through my body too quickly and too numerous to investigate.

A light knock sounded. I jumped slightly and Carson's eyes flew to the door. "Expecting someone?" he asked.

"Oh my God, Alex said he might come by with dinner. I thought it had gotten too late. That's probably him," I hissed out.

Carson stood up and I jumped up next to him. "Break it off with him, Grace," he said, starting to go toward the door.

"Wait!" I whispered. "You can't open that door!"

He turned and walked back to me in just a couple steps, taking my face in his hands. His expression was tight. "I haven't been with anyone else either," he said, his eyes studying my face. "Not since you." My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. "What?" I laughed out nervously. I was caught off guard, shocked. How could that possibly be true? In almost five years, Carson Stinger, sex-on-a-stick, man-whore, sex-God hadn't been with anyone else? I opened my mouth to speak and then snapped it closed. He continued to study my face, and I continued to study his. Finally, I breathed out, "Why?"

He opened his mouth to speak when a second knock sounded, this time louder.

"This won't look good. Please, you need to go out the back door, Carson," I whispered. "Can you do it quietly?"

He kept looking at me for a few beats and then his face broke into a slow grin, that magical dimple doing its worst. God, he was… breathtaking. My heart sped up at the sheer beauty of him. "I might have some expertise in stealthy getaways, Buttercup," he said, letting go of my face and moving toward the sliding glass door that led to the small patio at the back of my house.

My mouth fell open, words stuck in my throat and he was gone.

* * *

Carson

As I moved around the side of Grace's house, I heard her front door open and a male voice say, "Dinner delivery! What took you so long to answer?"

He sounded like a fucking dickwad. I shook my head slightly. That wasn't really fair. If Grace liked him, he was probably a decent guy. And that was the part that fucked with me even more. I really wanted to hate him.

"Oh, I was getting out of the shower!" I heard Grace lie.

I clenched my jaw and walked to my truck, parked in front of her neighbor's house. I hated sneaking out like I was some kind of thief. But I had made it very clear what I wanted. Now I just had to hope she figured out that she wanted the same thing.

I clenched my jaw. Maybe Grace and Alex weren't fucking, but I still bet he was in there holding her and kissing her. Yeah, I really wanted to hate him.

I got up into my truck and sat there for a minute. I had told her that I hadn't been with anyone either. She had laughed as if that was the most unbelievable thing in the world. I guess I would have thought so too if the last "me" I knew was from five years ago. I wanted to explain why. I wanted to tell her what I'd gone through. I longed to open up to Grace. I hadn't opened up to anyone since her–not in any true sense. Jesus, I just wanted her in every way possible. She was aggravating as all hell, but what did I expect? We had run into each other three days ago and I was asking her to change her whole life for me. But I was willing to make concessions for her too. She just didn't realize the extent of it yet.

I started my truck up and drove the five minutes home. All these years, I had thought of her and not known where she was, what was going on in her life. Now I knew she was five minutes from me. And it hurt worse than knowing she was a continent away.

CHAPTER 27

Grace

Christmas was in a week. I immersed myself in last minute shopping and work, including the Garner case. The trial was set for the end of January and so I had time to prepare my case, not that there was very much new evidence. The autopsy on the victim had come back and other than the obvious cause of death, a gunshot wound to her head, there was no physical trauma, no health issues, and no drugs in her system. Even more interesting, from what the M.E. could tell, was that she was a virgin. That put a kink in the whole, prostitution-pick-up-gone-wrong motive theory. Still, the DNA evidence was inscrutable. The accused's blood was at the scene on the rock, and the victim's blood was found on clothing at his apartment. Not to mention that the bullet removed from the victim was from Josh Garner's gun. I didn't think we'd need to provide a motive with evidence like that.

There were no witnesses to prepare other than the M.E. and a DNA expert, so I felt like I was on top of the case. Which was good because I had taken a week of vacation time to go home for Christmas. Alex was coming with me and I couldn't wait to spend family time, basking in the comfort of home and tradition. I needed it for the mental health it would bring. I was in dire need of mental health.