Page 43 of Saving Grace

Moving into my space, he dips his head, closing his eyes. “You have no idea how much I needed you.”

Needed.

Past tense.

Is this a thank you for helping him back onto his feet?

“You’re welcome,” I choke out.

Rain falls even harder. He straightens, standing tall. “Come on, we should get inside before lightning finds us.”

Right now, that doesn’t sound so bad. For a second, I thought something else was going to happen. To my surprise, I wanted it to. Iwantit to.

I follow behind, picking my way around the more slippery looking parts of the driveway. The driveway is turning muddier by the second. I hold my arms out to steady myself on cautious steps. My sneakers are slipping. Mack’s more sturdy footwear is proving to be a better choice. I glance up at his back. The tight shirt, now soaked, highlights his muscles moving to steady his own footwork.

My foot slips and I gasp as my ass hits the ground with a splash. “Ah shit!”

I scramble to get back up, feet slipping. Mack is over to me a second later, laughter spilling from his stupid, handsome face.

“Not funny, Mackinlay, these are my only other jeans.”

I tug on his arm. He winces.

Fuck. I slap a hand over my mouth. God no. Why did I do that? “I’m so sor?—”

He swipes up my hand playfully, trying to haul me to my feet. His grip on the muddy earth slips. He flails, arms windmilling. Mack hits the ground beside me. He groans and lies flat out. Muddy water seeps into his hair. Splashes cover his shirt. I sit beside him, waiting for some sign I didn’t cause any more damage.

The smile blooming over his face is followed by those dark blue eyes narrowing in on me. He grabs my waist and pulls me down to the muddy ground. “Down here with me, Gracie.”

We lie in the driveway, looking up into the falling rain. The cool water soaks my shirt, jeans, and underwear. The sky sways with falling droplets. I lie, mesmerized as much by the leaking sky as by the man lying in the mud beside me.

“Are you alright?” I finally breathe.

“Better than alright. I’m alive.”

“Have been for a while.”

His hand slips around mine by my side. I turn my head, and he’s staring at me. “I have you to thank for that.”

Not really true, but I get what he’s trying to say. I turn my face back to the sky. “Just doing my job.”

“Right.” His voice is sharper than a heartbeat ago. A million tiny droplets fall around us. Looking up into them as they fall is nothing short of tranquility. The grey clouds cover every inch of the sky, pelting drops down over us. It’s humbling.

We lie in the pouring rain until lightning chases us onto the porch. Dripping with muddy water, we stand, both hesitating.

“I don’t want to drip mud through the house,” I say, looking at the front door, still closed.

“Same.” His chest heaves where he stands, and he runs a hand through his wet hair. “Or I can clean it up, if you wanna go inside.” His gaze dips to my mouth.

I don’t want to move from this spot. I’m sure the desperate, strung-out look that just claimed his face is not because he’s scared of the lightning or staving off pain. I step up to him and tilt my head up. He studies my face before running the ends of my hair between his fingers by my arm. I wrap my own hand around his wrist, not wanting him to leave when he realizes how close we are.

“There’s mud in your hair.” His voice is gravel.

“I know. I need a shower. And so do you.”

His hand drops away. He turns and opens the door, gesturing for me to go on in. With a shallow nod, I do. Every step toward my room, I have the heat of his stare on my back. As if something just shifted and we’re both stunned. Spectators blinded by headlights.

I tiptoe into my room, like that will minimize the mud that hits the floor. Not bothering to shut my door, I pad to the en suite and turn on the shower. I rip my T-shirt off my body, the sucking noise it makes sending a giggle up my throat. It’s ridiculous.

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