Page 35 of Saving Grace

He huffs a strangled laugh and swallows. “I guess I deserve that.”

“Yep, you do.”

He dips his head, muttering something that sounds like “Sweet Jesus.”

“Well?”

His dark blue eyes meet mine, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “The county fair is on. Thought you might like to go.”

“Sure, I’ll make a point to ask my ass of a boss for the night off.”

He tilts his head, and for a second, I think he’s going to stalk off. But he leans on the crutch and studies my face. “We can take my truck.”

“I told you, Mackinlay, I’m not driving that thing.”

“I know.” He smiles and walks around me, his strides lighter than before.

With my best clothes on—the best of slim pickings, that is—I sit in the white Chevy pickup and wait for Mack to climb into the driver’s seat. He leans over the driver’s seat and hands me his lone crutch. Our fingers brush as I lean over and take it from his hold. He hauls himself into the seat and closes the door. Within a heartbeat, his cologne fills the cab.

He shaved.

Wow.

I shake my head and snap my gaze forward, waiting for the Chevy to start. The loud engine roars to life, and I swear he moans. Running his hands over the steering wheel, he takes a look around, as if it’s been a lifetime since he was last here. Emotion floods his face.

“Been a while, Mackie-boy?” I can’t help myself.

The second the words register on his face, I wish like hell I’d kept my mouth shut. Or chosen my words more wisely. I open my mouth to take them back but his gaze flicks down the driveway, and his jaw feathers.

He growls at me and slams the pickup into drive. I squeal as he floors it, and we thunder down the driveway. Hot and cold, this man. Or maybe we haven’t had the chance to get to know each other well enough yet. The first month or so of being here, it was him wishing I wasn’t. Me avoiding him and praying he didn’t get his way and have me shipped off like the last three carers.

He says not a word on the hour drive into town, and I busy myself with looking out the window. Bag and phone in my lap, I’m comfortable sitting here in silence. Like being in Mack’s orbit is some sort of safety net. I haven’t had that since I lived at home with my parents.

The sun is setting when we reach Lewistown and Mack pulls into the fairgrounds. His parking is a little uncontrolled, and I’m guessing he’s not supposed to be driving yet. Unlike an hour ago, I keep my thoughts to myself. In front of us, the fair is in full swing. Rides lit up with rainbow lights, more pickup trucks than I have ever seen in my life, and gazebos, stalls, and so many people.

“Ready?” Mack asks.

I nod, and he pushes his door open as I hand him his crutch. I turn to push my door open and the end of the crutch lands on my forearm. “Wait.”

I can’t take my eyes off him as he walks around the front of the vehicle and pulls my door open. Chuckles bubble up my throat, blush filling my cheeks. “You don’t—don’t need to do that, Mackinlay.”

“It wouldn’t be taking you to the fair if I didn’t. Let me be useful this once, please.”

That does it. My face falls. All he wants to do is get back his normal.

I can do that for him.

“Sure, go for it,” I say softly.

He doesn’t move from the doorway, and I study his face. He holds out a hand and I rest mine inside it. Warmth folds around my hand as I step down from the truck. Emotion clogs my throat when I clear the door, and he closes it for me.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Where do you want to go first?”

I look around the fair. It’s overwhelming, there is so much to look at and do. “I don’t know, what’s your favorite part?”

He thinks for a moment, scanning the fair. “Shootin’ ducks.”

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