Page 20 of Grace on the Rocks

One sideways glance atWesleyand her friend nodded in agreement, so they shoved their way to the exit.

After the darkness of the bar,Gracewas surprised by how bright it still was outside, and she stood blinking into the evening sun, the hands of her internal clock spinning helplessly out of control.

“I’ll walk you,” a familiar brogue rumbled as their landlord fell into step beside her.

“You don’t have to,” she protested.

“And let you accuse me of negligence when you wander into the ocean and drown?” he asked, raising that one cocky eyebrow.

“Well, we’d be dead, so…”

“Your song was very good,”Wescut in.

“Aye, you too,LadiesGaga,” he said, teasing, despite still sounding serious—and seriously put out.

“Really, we found our own way here just fine,”Gracegrumbled, but whenWesleyelbowed her, she added, “Imean, in case you’re not ready to go.”

“I am,” was all he replied.

“Then thanks,” she acquiesced.

They walked in silence, far too close together, and there it was again, that whiff of fresh sandalwood.Orwas it cedarwood?Orsome other kind of manly wood—she choked.

“All right?” he asked, both he andWesturning to her in concern.

“Fine!Myspit went down wrong,” she said, oh so smoothly, and when his brows lifted, she added, “Allergies.Idon’t thinkI’mused to it here.Allthe fresh air.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Where’reyou from?Tennesseeis it?”

Had she told him that?Shedidn’t think so. “Howdid you know that?”

“Cait said, didn’t she?” he answered quickly, turning away from her and starting down the road again.

“I don’t think so…?”God, was it her accent?Gracehad often been told she didn’t soundSouthern.Shepridedherself on not soundingSouthern.But, born and raised inKnoxville, maybe there really was no taking theTennesseeout of the girl.

A gentle rain began to patter as they strolled down the high street, andMr.Beehanded her a small umbrella after casting them both an irritated look for not having brought their own.

“Do you want to crowd in?”Wesoffered.

“Nah,” he said, staring straight ahead with his mouth set in a line as the rain beaded up and rolled off his leather jacket.

They walked on in silence, thoughGracekept getting the sense he was about to speak only to pull himself back.Whenthey arrived at the tiny stone cottage,Weswent off to shower, leavingGraceand their host standing awkwardly in the kitchen once more.

“Night cap?” he finally grunted.

“Sure, why not?” she said, just to end the awkwardness.

“Let me guess.Ginand tonic?”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Andwhy is that your guess?Becauseit’s boring?”

Putting his hands up in surrender he said, “Nothingdull about gin,Rios.It’sversatile and… junipery...”

“AndIstrike you as… junipery?”

She didn’t know why she was being so combative.Just, he put her on the defensive, and she didn’t like being there.

He studied her, his jaw working back and forth like he had a lot to say but kept deciding not to say it. “Whatdo you like then?”

---