Page 107 of Grace on the Rocks

“Maybe not.Ormaybe he should be the judge of what’s fair to him.Besides,Idon’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s this amazing new invention called the telephone.Iteven works overWi-Finow!”

“I came here to finish my book,”Gracemuttered. “Ihave a few days left to actually do it, and then we go home.”

But she didn’t write that night.SheandWesleywatched a movie, and thenWeswent out to a party on the beach, andGracetried out the bottle that said not for use with toys.Ithad the most exquisite, satiny feel she could have ever imagined and a small part of her mourned the years she’d lost by not realizing synthetic lube existed and was created byGodHimself, because she was stillGrace, and heaven forbid she just enjoy a thing totally guilt-free.

Still, shewasstarting to get the hang of it.Theearth didn’t move this time, either.She’dbeen right to assume the teen movies had massively oversold the sensation, and it still wasn’t completely painless, but there were nice feelings too.Hermind was sort of reeling at the possibilities.

Grace’s first college boyfriend had been so annoyed when she couldn’t get wet, he insisted on giving her excruciating oral in what she had perceived as punishment.Afterseveral failed attempts with her second boyfriend, he had suggested fingering her and then penetrated her with three of them like some kind of exploratory mission in search of water onMars.Whenthat approach inexplicably didn’t work, he said she must be a lesbian, because he’d never had trouble making a girl wet before.

NowGracewas beginning to realizeBryanmight have been right about at least one thing—her doctor and those boys were bullshit.Shewasn’t completely broken.Maybethere was hope for her yet.

After another round, she fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

ChapterTwenty-Eight

Rather than let the new tub go to waste,Bryaneventually dragged himself out of bed and ran the hottest bath he could stand to soak his wounded pride until long after the water went cold.

When the picketers got too loud with their chanting, he stood up, rivulets streaming down his chest, and shoved the brand-new double-hung window open, yelling, “S-s-say it to my face, if you’re going to.”

They gawped at his bare chest and the tops of his hips, and then they started protesting again, so he slammed the window shut, drained the tub, and turned on theTVas loud as it would go.

He could drown out the real-time shouts, but he couldn’t drown their voices out of his head.

He barely got out of bed the next day, as though all the work and stress and sleepless nights were finally catching up and his body was shutting down.Lùcascame and pounded on the door, but he covered his head with a pillow, drifting in and out of fitful sleep.Thiswasn’t wallowing, it was self-care, he reasoned.Heobviously needed the rest.

His cousin finally went away, only to come back later withEòghann, who yelled through the bedroom window, threatening to break it.Bryanthrew his pillow at the curtains and they both left again without making good on the threat.

On the third day, however,Caitproved herself the ultimate traitor, letting his cousins in with yet another spare key, whileBryansat in his underwear staring into the soggy depths of a bowl of muesli.

“Didn’t she like the tub?”Lùcasasked with big grey-green eyes like a kicked puppy.

“No.Butthat wasn’t really the issue in the end,” he assured the lad when his face fell.

“What was, then?”

“Me.Isaid the wrong thing, like always.”

Which was fine, honestly, because he’d never wanted to fall for her.Thesister of his old friend?Nevera good idea.Anda tourist, as well?Properlycliché for a reason.Bryanhad known better from the moment he saw her on the beach, but somehow she’d wormed her way into his heart the same way she’d wormed her way into his home.

“The place looks grand,Bry,”Eòghannsaid, looking around in breathless wonder.

“Bollocks.WishI’dnever started this mess.”

“Why not?”Lùcasasked with that same hang-dog expression.

“Seen the picketers?They’llnever accept me—or my distillery, either.Oughtto have left well enough alone, leftCaitto run her inn,” he added with a nod to his sister.

“Bollocks yourself,”Caitsaid. “YouthinkGrandadwould’ve rested easy knowing strangers were trashing his house week in and week out?EverytimeIdropped off a new one,Iwas half-afraid he’d come back and haunt me for it.Heleft the place to you because he knew it would bring you home.”

Bryan scoffed and shook his head.Hedidn’t know whyGrandadMachad left the place to him, but he doubted it was to lure him back to the island.

“I’m not at all sureIshould say it, butIcan’t believe how much nicer you’ve made this old house.AndGrandadwould agree.”

His cousins nodded, and the knot inBryan’sthroat tightened.PraisefromCaitwas rare and usually couched in insult.Heought to savor it, bottle it up and store it for the open house, when kindness would surely be in short supply, but today he was in no place to hear soft words of affirmation.

“Don’t be daft.Thishouse isn’t whyIcame home,” he told them.

“Why did you, then?”Lùcasasked.

---