Page 33 of Saving Grace

Now I feel guilty on top of stupid.

Own it, Mackinlay.I can hear Ruby’s words. Thank heavens Ruby is not the one running my recovery, or I’d be outside halfway through a ten-mile run right now. I love my sister-in-law to bits, but that girl has bigger balls than Harry.

Life wouldn’t be the same without her. She will always have my love and respect for how she turned my brother’s life around. Period.

“You’re doing an awful lot of thinking.” Grace’s smile is still as beautiful as it was moments ago when it appeared, only now it has a hint of cheek to it.

“I don’t?—”

I shift on the seat and clear my throat.

The apology I rustled up before she walked in is stuck, wedged behind my Adam’s apple like a damn stone. She tilts her head and drops to the seat of the abdominal machine. Now her smile slips, and she presses her hands over her denim shorts, chasing away non-existent creases.

“Grace, I don’t want you to go. I’m sorry about what I said. How I said it.”

She looks up from staring at her hands, now clasped in her lap. “Okay. Are you still going to fight me on every single thing? The housework, your recovery?”

“Well, noteverysingle thing...” I smile at her.

Her eyes soften and she runs a hand through her hair by her ear, tucking it away. It’s thick and slips back around as she dips her head. “I should make a start on lunch.” She stands and walks toward the door.

“Grace?”

She turns back, a hand on the doorframe. Her tank top rides up, and between her short denim shorts and the soft material of her top, a small sliver of her stomach shows. I force my gaze to stay on hers.

“Mackinlay?”

“It’s just Mack.”

Her face bursts with a grin, lighting up her eyes. A second later, the air that was inflating my lungs is nowhere to be found. My heart rate elevates like it’s mid-rep on the leg press and every ounce of blood sinks south.

Sweet Jesus.

No, Mackinlay, she’s ten years younger than you.

An employee.

Don’t even go there.

I rub my hand over my face, and when I look back up, the doorway is empty. Me and Grace, being nice to each other, is a dangerous place to be.

For her.

I start on the leg machine, aiming for maximum discomfort. Anything to tamp down the hard-on that’s fighting its way to life from a single interaction with her.

No, if anything, we can be friends. Nothing else would be fair to her. How can half a man be anything a woman like Grace would ever want, let alone need?

I push up and let the burn swallow my muscles whole.

Thankful for the punishment to replace the thoughts running my body into a frenzy like I’ve never experienced over a woman before.

One Mississippi.

I groan against the weight as the muscles in my thighs bulge to life.

Two Mississippi.

I exhale, trying to shake those blue eyes and that beaming smile from my mind.

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