laughter and curses rose above the roar of racing street cars. Hand drying a plate, Grace peeked out of the kitchen at the two formidable men perched on the edge of the couch, hunkered over the game controllers gripped in their tight-fisted hands.
The big-screen TV anchored to the wall in the Walkers’ den flashed images of a high-speed street race. One car tapped the other, knocking it into a tailspin.
“What the fuck?” Brice’s arm swung out, punching Rafe’s shoulder with enough force to knock an ordinary man clean off the couch. Rafe’s body absorbed the shock with barely a ripple. However, his virtual car careened off course, crashed into a building and exploded.
“Keep your paws in the game, Walker, and off me,” Rafe snapped, although Grace saw no true menace in the narrowed gaze he speared at his friend.
“All’s fair in love and war and my toys,” Brice chuckled.
Grace returned to the sink. “Do men ever grow up?”
“Depends on the man. A good one knows how and when to step up, and will.” Cassie absently rubbed her belly. “It’s good to see Rafe having fun.”
“At least, he is now.” Grace placed the freshly dried plate in the cabinet and laid the damp towel across the empty dish drainer. “He was so tense during supper.”
Sitting beside him at the table, Grace had felt his tension in palpable waves. His muscles had been primed and pumped, as if he’d been waiting for the chance to dart out the door.
“He’s never accepted a dinner invitation from us until tonight. Maybe he wasn’t sure what to expect.” Cassie waddled to the kitchen archway. Her head tilted as she watched the men play their game.
When she turned to Grace, a smile twitched her lips. “Maybe Rafe is here because he wants to get to know you.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Grace grabbed her glass of iced tea from the counter and chugged a big gulp.
“You batted your eyes to get him to stay for supper.” Cassie made a sympathy face, dramatically exaggerating the opening and closing of her eyes.
Grace tossed the dish towel at her. “I did not.”
They both laughed.
Cassie carried the nearly forgotten condiments to the refrigerator. “I think he liked your travel stories.”
Grace had more than a few about the Swiss Alps, Mt. Fuji, Pompeii, Madrid, the rain forest, the Luxor—the real one, not the one in Vegas. Other places such as Beaufort, San Diego, Arlington, Jacksonville, Okinawa, Guam and Germany had been “home” during her father’s military career.
Brice and Cassie had peppered her with curious questions during dinner. Rafe had remained silent.
“He seemed bored to me.”
Cassie wiggled in her seat to get comfortable. “If Rafe was bored, he would’ve left once he finished eating.”
“He kept his head down and his eyes on his plate.” Grace eased into the chair across the table from Cassie. “Not a great endorsement for interest.”
“Eating is serious business for men like Rafe, but it doesn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention,” Cassie said. “Remember when your napkin fell off the table? Rafe caught it midair, folded it, and placed it next to your plate.”
“He has quick reflexes.”
“The point is that he noticed.” Cassie’s face lit up with a wide grin. “He’s probably observed more about you than you realize.”
Come to think of it, Rafe had handed Grace the mustard before Grace asked for it. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary at the time because they were eating burgers. But, he’d only passed her the mustard. Not the ketchup. Not the mayo. Neither of which she liked.
“And if he’s tuned into you it’s possible you’ve piqued his interest.” Cassie held up her hands to show Grace her crossed fingers.
“I hope it’s just a casual interest. You know I’m not looking for anything more.”
“Not all men are jerks. Some can be trusted not to break your heart, Grace.”
In her experience, they always did.
Her dad had been the first. Strict, unemotional and mostly absent, he’d broken promise after promise. Birthdays, holidays, award presentations, he’d sworn to attend them all. She only needed one hand to count the number of times he had attended anything.
Derek, her college sweetheart turned ex-husband, swore he loved her, but after the miscarriage he couldn’t get out of their marriage fast enough.
Even Matt had crushed her heart, joining the military after he promised he wouldn’t. Now he was paralyzed.
“Hey, Goldilocks.” Rafe strolled into the kitchen. “If you’re ready to go, I’ll walk you to your room.”
Grace regarded his outstretched palm.
Though his voice had sounded indifferent, his eyes dared her to take his steady, open hand.
So she did.
As he pulled her to her feet, electricity sparked in his fingertips and zipped through her neural pathways. The jolt flushed her skin, a flutter disrupted the rhythm of her heart. Her eyes, mouth and throat immediately turned dry as all the moisture in her body pooled between her legs.
Something dark and primal flickered in Rafe’s eyes.
She jerked back her hand.
They said their goodbyes to Cassie and Brice, then walked down the corridor to the hidden entrance to the resort lobby.
“How did you know I was ready to leave, or was it a lucky guess?”
“When I came into the kitchen for another bottle of water, I saw you rub the tattoo on your wrist.” Rafe reached around her to open the heavy mahogany doors.
“Lucky guess it is.”
“You touch it when you’re anxious.”
“I do not.”
“You rubbed it while we waited for the emergency responders after the accident, again at the hospital, before you fell asleep, at the diner when we ate breakfast.”
“Oh,” Grace said softly.
So Cassie hadn’t been off the mark about Rafe’s observation skills.
Strange that he would watch Grace so carefully after he confessed no interest in becoming friends. She bit back a smile. Maybe he was warming to the idea.
Music filtered over the chatter of people spilling from the lounge into the lobby. Rafe cupped the back of her arm, navigating them through the masses.
He stabbed his finger at the elevator call button and mumbled something about the damned crowd.
