Page 18 of On the Chase
“Yeah. He is.” Although she wanted to talk more about Jorge’s poor life choices, Grace went quiet so she could watch the show. As the soap continued, she found herself leaning forward, fascinated despite herself.
“Oh. My. God.” Grace clapped a hand over her mouth in shocked glee as a commercial filled the small screen. “Did Tatiana actually tell Jorge about the secret baby?”
“I know, right? Natasha knew all along, too.” Hugh shook his head and tsked.“Just wait. Javier—”
“Stop! No spoilers!” Lunging toward him and laughing, Grace clapped a hand over his mouth. As soon as she made contact, she froze. His skin was warm—almost hot—and his cheeks as stubbly as his lips were smooth. Grace stared at him. What was she doing? This was Hugh, a cop who was so suspicious of her that he’d broken into her house to dig through her things. Why was she flirting with him?
Realizing that she was still touching him, Grace started to yank her arm back, but he caught her hand before she could pull it away. He gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
“What—”
“The show’s on,” Hugh interrupted. “Hush, or you’ll miss it.”
WatchingTattered Heartswas more important than smacking him down forshushingher, so Grace settled against the sofa cushions and tried to ignore the annoying, muscle-bound cop sharing the couch with her. She couldn’t deny how nice it was to have him there, though. It made her feel a little less alone.
Grace felt herself relaxing for the first time in over a week. With a relieved sigh, she let herself enjoy the warmth of Hugh’s shoulder so close to hers and the comfort of his presence. She got caught up in the drama of Tatiana, Jorge, and Natasha, and forgot about anyone with the name Jovanovic for a little while.
* * *
“What are you guys up to?” Grace asked, flipping through one of the recipe books that Tio had picked up for her at the library. The kids had just gotten home from school, and there was tons of time before dinner, but Grace had been at a loss after Hugh had left a few hours earlier. Meal planning gave her something to focus on, something that wasn’t a burly, soap-opera-loving cop.
Dee paused in her rush to beat the twins to the back door. “We’re going to play footer.”
“Footer?” Grace echoed.
“You can play, if you like.” Dee looked at her with hopeful eyes, even as Grace’s chest tightened at the thought of leaving the house.
She cleared her throat, hoping that her voice would come out sounding normal. “Thanks, but I should do…uh, something in here.” Gesturing at the cookbook, Grace gave her a weak smile.
Dee studied her for a moment, her expression too serious for a little girl. “That’s okay,” she finally said, patting Grace’s arm before following her brothers outside. Grace stared at the door, feeling like the biggest scaredy-cat alive.
“Y-you sh-sh-should c-come outside.”
Grace jumped, twisting in her chair to see Sam. “Oh! You startled me.” She cocked her head, watching him curiously. Usually, he did his best to avoid her, only speaking to her when it was absolutely unavoidable. This was the first time he’d actually initiated conversation.
He looked at her in a way that was uncomfortably close to how his sister had eyed her, as if they knew exactly what she was scared of. “You sh-should p-play.”
Grace’s laugh came out sounding strangled. “I don’t even know whatfooteris, much less how to play it.”
“It’s a m-m-mix of f-footb-ball and soccer. We d-don’t know the rules, either. W-we j-j-just make them up as w-we g-g-go.”
That time, her smile was real, although short-lived. She looked down at the cookbook. “I don’t know…” She didn’t want to admit her silly fear that Martin Jovanovic and his flunkies might be hiding in the woods, waiting for her to leave the safety of the house. It was irrational, and she knew it. She shouldn’t be hiding as children tried to coax her to do simple, normal things, but that seemed to be her life now.Thanks, Martin, you asshole.
“It’s ok-kay.” Her gaze flew to his face. It was like he’d read her thoughts. “If whoever’s af-fter you knows wh-where you l-live, it’s t-t-too l-late anyw-way.”
She stared at him in horror. If he was trying to encourage her, then he kind of sucked at it.
“Th-they’re n-not g-g-going to f-find you j-just bec-c-cause you g-go outside.”
It was her turn to study him as she considered what he’d said. “You’re right.” Shutting the cookbook with a slap, she stood abruptly. Even though he was several feet away, Sam still took a step back, looking alarmed. Grace wondered what had happened to him, what he and his brothers and sisters had gone through that had driven them out of their lives and into hiding. His expression became guarded, and she shook off her thoughts. “I’m going to play sockball or whatever you call it.”
Her attempt at a bad joke was rewarded by a tiny smile from Sam. “F-footer.”
“Footer. Right. I’m going to play footer. No, I’m going toruleat footer. Watch out, footer world, because I’m about to dominate!”
His smile grew, and Grace felt like she’d already won. Taking a deep breath, she shoved all thoughts of Martin Jovanovic from her mind and followed Sam out the door. Screw being scared. It was time to play footer.
* * *
