Page 66 of Saving Grace

“Painfully aware.”

I think back to all the stupid second, third, tenth chances I gave Joel. Too naive, more like it. Mack shifts on his feet, glancing at the time. Shifty is an excellent word to describe this man today. He has me intrigued, to say the least.

He claps his hands. “I’m gonna go change. Wear somethin’ nice, okay?”

“Sure.” I place the cut veggies I prepped earlier around the bird in the roasting pan and cover it with plastic wrap before sliding Cheryl into her spot in the fridge until we go. Passing the yoga room, I hesitate, running an eye over my painting set up. It’s lame. I need to get organized. I would love to paint and maybe one day sell some.

Grabbing a quick shower, I wash my hair and towel it off before slipping on the blue dress I found last week at the charity store. It’s pale blue with small peach floral clusters. It starts with a deep V-neck silhouette that’s centered with a waist band, and three-quarter sleeves that end in a gathered trim. A full A-lineskirt that ends at my knees and sways when I move. This dress makes me feel pretty. I decide on light makeup this time. I blow out my hair and leave it to hang around my shoulders in light waves. A small, silent celebration of my own.

Twenty-one-and-a-half years old.

I feel younger, sometimes. On the bad days.

It hits me as I stare at my reflection—aged since the day I arrived here—that it’s been a long while since a bad day has found me. Emotion flares again, and I blink the tears back, not wanting to spoil my face, no matter how simple it is.

After I’m dressed and done up, I wander toward Mack’s room. I can smell his cologne. The scent flips my gut over in an instant. He appears, clean-shaven, wearing a navy dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark jeans. Something like nerves roots me to the spot. My mouth gapes.

He leans sideways, his top half disappearing for a moment. Reappearing, he wears a black cowboy hat. My heart is wedged tight in my throat a second later.

Holy hurling heavens.

“Mackinlay...” The word is more like a breathy moan. Heat flushes my face.

“You look stunning, gorgeous girl.” He dots a kiss to the crown of my head and grabs my hand, pulling me down the hallway. His shiny boots clack on the wood floor. My silver flats scuff behind, and I am grateful I chose to do my makeup and hair after seeing him all dressed up.

I grab my bag and phone from the small front table as Mack collects Cheryl and two six-packs of beer. I hold the door for him, and we head for the barn. I grab the back driver’s side door, pulling it open as he places the chicken and beer in safely.

The passenger door opens from the inside. Mack is leaning over, corded arms flexing as he waits for me to open it further and climb on up into the truck. I slide into my seat. But I don’tput my seat belt on; instead I turn to face him as he starts the engine. I can’t take my eyes from his jaw, those dark blue eyes, the goddamn hat. My breaths shallow out in no time.

The Chevy rumbles to life.

Mack slides his chair back before rubbing a hand over his clean-shaven face. “Come here, Gracie.”

“Okay . . .” I don’t move.

“I’m not askin’, gorgeous.” His eyes burn. He plucks the hat from his head and plants it onto mine. “Here, now.”

Bunching up my skirt, I maneuver over the center console and sink onto his lap. He’s hard already. The second I’m settled in place, his hands are on my face. “You’re killin’ me in that dress.”

A smile grows over my face. “Can’t have that.” I pull one side of the top aside. One of the perks of the design—at least, I thought so when I found it in the shop.

The light yellow lace bra pops out and Mack drops his head back onto the headrest, slamming his eyes shut. “Sweet Jesus.”

“They are all yours, Mackinlay.”

“Fuck, Grace. We won’t even make it to Rosewood at this rate.”

“Maybe we don’t have to?—”

“Nope, we’re going alright. Just have one thing to do before we go.”

“Oh?” I ask, breathless.

“I wanna see your beautiful face fall apart as you come on mine.”

If I had words, which I don’t, I would screamyes pleaseto the heavens. But they’re stuck somewhere deep, because nothing comes when I open my mouth to respond. Mack grabs the hold bar above us and flips us over, depositing me on the driver’s seat. I can’t help the giggle that huffs from my lips. He shufflesbackward, sliding one leg out the door and planting his foot on the ground.

“You sure this is okay with your hip?” I protest with breathy words.

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