Page 34 of Saving Grace

Three Mississippi.

They don’t budge.

Fuck.

Chapter Nine

GRACE

Istand in front of the biggest animal I’ve ever been up close to. He rubs his muzzle into my palm, plucking the sugar cube up with his teeth. With Lawson gone, I make sure to get out of the house a few times a day and out of Mack’s way. He may have apologized, but he is still awkward and short when we are in close quarters.

I’m well aware I’m in his space, in his home. If the shoe were on the other foot, I’m sure I would be surly about a stranger being holed up in my place, too. I rub a hand up the gelding’s face.

“He likes you,” a low voice says from behind me.

I spin back to find Mack in jeans and a polo, leaning on his crutch.

“I was getting some air—thought he might like a treat.”

He walks to his horse and places his hand on his cheek. “Hey there, buddy.”

“What’s his name?” I ask.

“Trigger.”

I chuckle. “Of course it is.”

The horse nickers and nods his head up and down, as if responding. Mack is gentle and sweet with the gelding. Anotherglimpse of the real Mackinlay. A smile tugs over his lips as he rubs the horse and chats away to him.

I stand, one hand on the stall door, the other raised up to the gelding’s neck. The butterflies taking flight with Mack’s soft words have me stunned. The horse nudges his hand, and he chuckles. My mouth gapes, sending my heart into my throat.

I stagger back, shoving my hands in my back pockets. “Excuse me.”

I march over the hay-littered ground toward the doorway. Outside, sunshine hits me, and I suck much-needed air into my burning lungs. The too familiar burn behind my eyes starts. The kindness, the effect he has on me when we are too close...

Joel never elicited any such physical reaction. I was head over heels for him purely on his charisma. His too-casual, freedom-chasing personality was a breath of fresh air after my strict parents. Maybe I was desperate for change. But that change had me just as desperate in the end.

Shaking my head at my stupid choices since the day I met Joel, I walk over the gravel driveway toward the house.

“Grace, wait up!”

I stop and stare at the gate to the front yard, bottom lip worrying through my teeth. The hurried scuffle of his lone crutch closes in behind me. A hand touches my shoulder, and I turn back. His worried face is still gorgeous under a week’s worth of stubble.

“What do you need?” I ask.

He stands taller on the crutch and swallows. “Nothin’—I just...”

I turn back and walk toward the house.

“Dammit, Grace, slow down.”

“Why?” I say, not slowing one iota.

“I wanted to ask you something.” His voice is soft, vulnerable.

That’s a first.

I sigh and walk back to where he stands, folding my arms across my chest.

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