Page 87 of Saving Grace

“Hmmm, I might take you up on that, Mack. But first, take me somewhere to eat. Now the nerves have worn off, I am starving.”

“How about Italian?”

I scan the street up and down. His truck isn’t here. “Pasta and you? Sign me up! Hey, how did you get here?”

“Reed dropped me off.”

He swipes the flowers from the roof and places them in my hands and folds me into a warm hug, soft words caressing the shell of my ear. “Congratulations, my girl.”

I turn my head and catch his mouth with mine. Dragging his bottom lip through my teeth, a hand pressed to his chest. “We could skip the entrée, have a quick bite and grab dessert at home...”

“You read my mind.”

The pasta at Mama’s Place was almost as good as Louisa’s. Her cooking is outstanding. I wonder if she would show me how to make that chocolate cake...

“What you thinkin’ about?” Mack says, mischief in his eyes as we drive the long dirt road home. His black hat sits on the back seat. He can’t fit in the Beetle with it on. It was hilarious to watch him try.

“Your mom’s chocolate cake, actually,” I say with a laugh.

“Yeah, that one makes my top three. So damn fine.”

“Agreed. You know what would make it even better?”

“No, what?”

“If I could smear it all over you and lick it off.”

He veers to the side of the road, pulling the car back to the center a second later. “Sweet Jesus, Grace. Make a man go cross-eyed with that talk, why don’t ya?”

I let out a laugh so hearty, so life-affirming, it kind of hits me as the sound falls from my lips. How free, how happy I am. I know I did the hardest part by myself, but this man in front of me brought me the last mile. “Mack, pull over.” The words are breathy, strained.

“What, what is it?” He slows Blue and pulls over on the side of the gravel road.

I undo my seatbelt and crawl over onto his lap. It’s cramped, but I don’t care. “I need to tell you something...”

My heart bangs against my sternum.It’s now or never, Weston.

His eyes search my face. “Whatever it is, Gracie, you can tell me.” Warm hands hug my face.

And the feeling is cemented.

“Mackinlay, I—I think I’m falling. I mean, for you.”

His face slackens. His chest caves like it took a hit. “Gorgeo?—”

He slams his eyes shut, breaths coming too quick. His hands grip my hips. I plant kisses over his jaw. Tracing the angles of his cheekbones with my fingertips. My favorite thing to do with Mackinlay Rawlins. Touch. Kiss. Hold. Drown in.

Possibly . . .

Love.

Swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobs. “I have—I’m fond of you too, Grace.” Face twisting for a second, his eyes light and the biggest grin erupts. I laugh at him, and he frowns as he leans in and nips my earlobe.

“Mack, Hallmark called. You’re fired. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

He growls, low and soft. “Gorgeous girl.” Dark eyes find mine. “I already fell.”

He pushes me back and forth on his lap. Grinding me over his erection. We oscillate from amused to aroused. It seems to be our constant cycle the past week or so. Right now, I’m not amused. Nipples hard and warmth pooling in my belly at an alarming rate, I cup his jaw and kiss his lips briefly. “I wonder how fast Blue can go...”

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