CHAPTER 3
Grace unabashedly kissed Graham’s cheeks. His forehead. She was beyond thrilled that he was all right, talking and moving. Her lips hovered over his, and she caught herself at the last moment—what was she doing? Whoa! She’d almost really kissed him! Smooched him right on those beautiful, full lips. When she drew back, he was staring at her.
Not just staring. His gaze held more than a you are crazy, woman expression. It held a look she knew all too well. His gypsy-brown eyes darkened and threw heat that shot straight through to her abdomen and radiated everywhere despite the penetrating cold. A gaze that told her in no uncertain terms that he wanted to cover her lips with his and kiss her until she was boneless and panting.
Grace’s breath caught. His gaze slid down to her lips, and her insides turned into a warm, melty puddle. The car suddenly felt stifling, claustrophobic. She sat up, struggling to get some space between them. A big wave of strong, heady emotion always seemed to cloud her reason and her judgment when she was around him. One thing about Graham Walker was certain—he did not elicit halfway feelings, good or bad.
“Are you all right?” she asked, trying to keep her focus. Now that he was conscious and talking, they had other things to worry about. The car was freezing, getting buried under snow, and no one was around for miles. Plus, the engine wouldn’t start when she tried the key, and her toes were already starting to feel like tiny little ice blocks.
“I have a whopping headache.” He brought his hand up to his forehead, but she caught it before he could touch his wound, which had mostly stopped bleeding but still looked nasty.
“You have a gash. It looks like it needs a couple of stitches.”
She had to get them some help. But how? “I’m going to start walking. I’ll flag down the first person I see.” She opened the door and saw for the first time the massive body on their hood, which was dented like an accordion, the engine still hissing loudly. The hazard lights reflected off a sign, half covered with snow. “Welcome to Mirror Lake…Population 1000.” Wherever that was.
Grace got back in and shut the door.
“I don’t want you to leave the car.” Graham struggled to get up.
“Don’t move until help comes.” She paused. “Please don’t move,” she rephrased. “Maybe you hurt your neck or back.”
“I’m fine, Grace,” he said through gritted teeth. He sighed. “What I mean is, I’m not helpless. It’s going to take both of us to get us out of here.”
She put a hand on the center of his chest. “I’m just so damn happy you’re alive. Please don’t ruin it by going back to your obstinate self. And it’s not safe to move. You need an ambulance.”
He raised a brow. “You’re happy I’m alive?” For once, he didn’t sound sarcastic.
“Yes, I’m thrilled, okay? You scared the bejesus out of me!”
He grinned, full on, and wouldn’t you know it, out popped that damn dimple.
The intense flashlight beam that suddenly shone inside the car prevented Grace from thinking too much about that.
Grace looked up to see a cop on the driver’s side, knocking on the window.
Oh, thank God. Alive and saved, all in the same day.
“Officer!” she said.
A tall, dark-haired man assessed the situation with a calm and steady gaze. “I’m Chief Tom Rushford of the Mirror Lake Police Department,” he said. “I suppose you two didn’t get the memo that there’s a blizzard out here.” He had kind eyes. That alone was enough for relief to cascade through her.
They would live to tell this tale. More importantly, something between them had shifted, something that could finally throw open the possibility of understanding each other. And that was suddenly massively important to her.
Tom took in the windshield, the punctured air bag, and the gash on Graham’s head. “I see you seemed to do a little better than the deer. How are you feeling?”
“Great, Officer,” Graham said.
Typical male. “He hit his head on the steering wheel, and he was out for about five minutes.” Grace felt a little like she was back in the third grade, tattling without hesitation. Graham tossed her a dirty look, but she shot him one right back.
In the distance, red lights flashed. The officer squinted into the driving snow. “We’ve got an ambulance coming.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” Graham said, trying to sit up, but Grace pushed against his chest again.
“Just sit tight,” Officer Tom said. “We’re going to take you to our community hospital. They’re going to have to backboard you until your neck checks out.” He looked at Grace. “You keep him still, okay?” He turned to Graham and patted his shoulder. “Listen to your wife. She obviously loves you.”
“She’s not…” He started to explain, but the officer was already gone, trudging through the snow to greet the ambulance crew. His gaze met Grace’s.
“Are you all right?” he asked when they were alone.
“Me?” she said. “My airbag went off, remember?” She took a breath. This time, she was going to be honest. “The worst part was being afraid you—I was afraid something happened to you.” She couldn’t bring herself to say died.
Strong fingers wrapped around hers, squeezing firmly. A burst of warmth torched through her despite the bitter cold.
“Thank you, Grace. For worrying about me.”
She nodded, pretending to straighten her coat, anything to look somewhere else besides into his warm, sincere eyes that were making her feel very strange inside.
He spoke again, sounding a little resolved, a little amused. “Guess we’re going to be spending some time in—what’s this place called again? Mirror Lake?”
She had no idea what Mirror Lake, Population 1000, was like. But she had a feeling they were probably going to find out. Graham was in no condition to go anywhere, plus the entire front end of the car looked like it had been run through a giant trash compactor.
She flicked her gaze back at him and smiled. “All right, then. Mirror Lake it is.”
* * *
It was after midnight when Graham and Grace walked into the lobby of the Grand Victorian hotel. Graham could hardly believe the final twist of events of this weird day that had led them straight from the CT scan at the Community Hospital to a room at Mirror Lake’s best (and only) hotel.
Of course the ER doctor, Ben Rushford, who was around their age, was the cop’s brother. “Your head scan is normal,” the very tall, bearded doc had said. “You’re good to go. Actually, my wife and I are happy to put you up at our place for the next night or two. We’ve got plenty of room. Five bedrooms, and with the kids, we only use four of them. Except I hope you don’t mind dogs, because I can’t promise one of them won’t accidentally wander in.”
Grace had been quick to thank him for his kindness, but she’d already gotten them a room at the hotel down the street.
Graham didn’t protest, because such small-town hospitality, while genuinely kind, made him a little uncomfortable. He also hoped a room was actually two, and that Grace was just playing along about the couple thing because it was easier.
So now they were standing inside a beautiful high-ceilinged lobby flanked on one side by a giant Christmas tree covered with the big old-fashioned kind of colored lights. He made out the festive scents of pine and maybe vanilla and cinnamon—except the tree and the pine smell were real.
Grace insisted on dragging her rolling suitcase and his duffel bag through the lobby, because the doctor said he shouldn’t lift things due to his concussion. Nevertheless, he attempted to take the duffel from her. “Please,” he said. “You’re emasculating me.”
She rolled her eyes and tugged it back. “You heard what the doctor said.”
Yeah. “Dr. Ben” had also said no reading, driving, TV, or sex for the next few days. Which meant they had to find some other way besides a car to get Grace to Philly. And as far as the no-sex rule…well, that was a good thing. Just in case he happened to be tempted. Which he had been—in the car, the hospital, and, come to think of it, right now, despite the throbbing in his head, twelve stitches, and the fact that he was exhausted.
He looked around at the looped garlands and the massive wreath hung over a big carved fireplace with a burning, crackling fire. “Nice place,” he said.
Grace turned to him and smiled. “Are you angry I did this? I know it’s a little high-end, but I felt a little uncomfortable accepting the invitation to the doctor’s house.”
“Yeah, I did too. And I don’t care how much the rooms cost.”
“One room. I have to wake you up for neuro checks every two hours, remember?”
“Grace, that’s really not nec—”
“The last I knew, you weren’t an MD, so since we survived our near-death experience, I’d rather just play by the rules, okay?”
He knew by the familiar set of her chin and the way she narrowed her eyes that she was digging in for the long haul. Fine. He was too tired to fight her on this one.
At the desk, a man in an immaculate suit with a close-cut beard introduced himself as the manager, Hector, and gave the usual spiel. “Caroling’s tomorrow evening, if you’re feeling up to it. Everyone meets at the Irish pub around the corner at six. Folks start out at the senior center, hit the hospital, circle around to downtown, and end up at the square.”
“Sounds lovely,” Grace said. “Nice to meet you, Hector.”
They’d be gone long before caroling, which ordinarily would give Graham a sense of relief, since he couldn’t carry a tune if his life were on the line. But the fact that their time together would be coming to a fast end threw him a little. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and they both had places to be.
As soon as they walked through the doorway of their room, Grace released a big breath and pulled off her boots. Graham placed the key on a tray on the antique chest near the door and shrugged off his coat.
His eyes were drawn instantly to the big bed. A four-poster with spiral carvings up and down the heavy, dark wood posts and a velvet canopy overhead.
“You take the bed,” Grace said. “I’ll take the couch.”
“The bed is huge. Surely we can be civilized and each take a side. May as well sleep in a comfortable bed if you insist on waking me up every two hours.”
While she considered that, he walked up to her and held her by the shoulders. “It’s been a long day,” he said. “I’m sorry for this.”
Up close, she smelled good. She was soft in his arms, and her lips were pink and full, and suddenly, he didn’t care about his head or his exhaustion or the wrecked car. He wanted to kiss her until they forgot about everything and all that remained was the feel of her mouth on his. He wanted to use his mouth and his hands to roam all over her, remembering all her curves and the special places he’d once known better than his own.
Graham dropped his hands before he did something foolish. His brain might have taken a hit, but his dick was functioning just fine, and that was, of course, a problem. Suddenly, the relief he’d felt moments before about finally resting did not feel like relief. At all.
Grace smiled, but he still saw the fatigue in her eyes, the dark circles. “Hey, you took the antler hit,” she said. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
“I haven’t given up on finding an alternative for you to get to Philly. If we get you on an early bus or train—”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I talked to the hospital publicist in Philly. She canceled the event because they’re expecting eight to ten more inches. So whenever I get there, I’ll go visit all the kids who are stuck on the wards over Christmas and pass out books. It’s not quite the same, but it works.”
He still felt bad about detaining her, but he nodded and moved to unzip his duffel. A wave of dizziness nearly bowled him over, causing him to lean on the bed. He didn’t want to appear weak, so he quickly righted himself and attempted to get his toothbrush again. Suddenly, she was at his side, slipping off his shoes, pulling the covers down. Then she finished opening his bag. He gave in to the room’s swaying and his pounding head and lay down on the bed, which felt like heaven.
“Amid all this precision packing,” she said, rifling through his neatly rolled shirts and underwear, “I’m not seeing any jammies.”
From the pillow, he raised a single brow. The corner of his mouth quirked up a little.
“Oh God. You still don’t wear any, do you?”
“No, but there’s a pair of black sweats in there. And a T-shirt.”
She handed him his clothes and his toothbrush and helped him sit up. After he used the bathroom and collapsed back into bed, she was next to him, holding out her hand, which held two red pills.
He looked up at her. “What are those?”
“Midol.”
“I’m not taking—”
“The ER instructions say take ibuprofen, but this is all I’ve got.”
She stared him down, palm outstretched. Finally, he caved. “Fine.” Anything to take the anvil out of his head. He swallowed the pills and handed her back the water glass, but didn’t release his grip right away. “Thank you,” he said, looking straight at her. “I mean it. For everything.”
Her smile warmed him like a shot of Crown Royal, smooth and shooting straight through his gut.
“Well, I’m going to use the bathroom,” she said, averting her gaze and busily unzipping her suitcase, pulling out clothes and cosmetic cases and even a pair of fur-lined slippers. The suitcase, which was stuffed to the brim, looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Graham couldn’t help chuckling to himself. He couldn’t believe it, but somehow, he missed the chaos.
She, of course, took twenty minutes in the bathroom, even if it was one in the morning, and came out wearing her glasses and a flannel nightgown with red and green fuzzy socks. Her hair was loose and wavy, and seeing her like that brought back a thousand memories. Of that hair wild and flowing around his face as she kissed him. Of him trawling his hands through that luxurious mass of silk.
He’d taken for granted all those regular, run-of-the-mill nights where they’d gone to bed chatting and talking, just their regular bedtime routine. He missed their conversation. And the way he always curved his body around hers and kissed her on the neck before they both drifted off to sleep.
How had he let it all go? How had he let her go?
She set her phone alarm and crawled under the covers, being careful to keep a good distance between them.
“Grace,” he said, turning off the light.
“What is it?” came from the other side of the bed.
“I’m sorry I never took you to a place like this when we were married.”
“We couldn’t afford a place like this when we were married.”
“I know, but I was always worried about money. Too much. I wish we would’ve had a little more fun.”
He felt her hand squeeze his arm. “Go to sleep, Graham. Everything’s good, you know? So the Christmas program is canceled and you have a concussion. We’re alive and safe and out of the storm. And it’s Christmastime in a pretty little town. Life could be a lot worse, you know.”
“I’m glad I’m stuck here with you.”
She laughed. “You’re not going to be saying that in two hours when I blast a light into your eyes.”
He smiled. Despite everything that had happened, he felt a strange sense of…well, he hated to say it but…contentment. And that was the last thing he remembered before he fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
It was very dark when the light drilled Graham in the eyes, startling him from a sound sleep. Instinctively, he lifted his arm to shield himself, but Grace leaned over, pulling his arm away and blinding him with the flashlight app on her iPhone.
“What time is it?” Graham asked, squinting against the torture.
“Three a.m. I’m seeing if this works to check your pupils.”
“It does. It fries my retinas quite nicely.”
“Okay, you’re fine. You can roll over and go back to sleep.”
“Who can go back to sleep once they’ve been blinded?”
“As I recall, you have the ability to sleep just about anywhere at any time.”
“Not when it feels like someone’s about to stick a pencil in your eye.”
“You’re so ungrateful,” she said, her tone teasing.
“Besides, I think you might enjoy waking me up.” He found himself trying to come up with something silly to continue their banter. Concussion or no, he wanted to reach out and tug her to him until she was in his arms, soft and wonderful. He fisted his hands and crossed them over his chest and tried to count sheep. Do inventory on the Christmas polar fleece quarter-zip orders, which was the item currently selling like hotcakes. Anything to distract himself from the fact that she was a mere foot away.
They fell into silence again. There was a faint ticking—it might have been her watch—counting out each endless second.
“Graham,” she said.
“Yes?”
“I’d really appreciate it if you’d be okay the rest of the night.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Why don’t we skip the rest of the neuro checks?”
“The hospital said it was important to do it every two hours. I’m just not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing. I mean, if your pupils are unequal or unreactive, doesn’t that usually mean you’re dead?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Saying that doesn’t make me stop worrying.”
He chuckled a little. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Because I’m worried?”
“No, it’s just that you—care. You haven’t got an apathetic bone in your body.” He’d always loved and admired that about her. She cared more than anyone he ever knew. About everything and everyone. She answered every fan letter personally, thanked each kid for every piece of artwork and every drawing they sent. Mailed books to kids who couldn’t afford to buy them. She was even kind to Blakely, who didn’t seem to have a clue how to be decent back.
“Why, Graham, did you just pay me a compliment?”
“Yes. And considering that I’m blind, that’s a big deal.”
She chuckled softly, and for a moment, he felt like he had long ago, when they used to laugh and joke, and conversation came as easily and simply as sunshine on a warm spring day.
They stopped talking, but it took forever to fall asleep again. Graham didn’t really remember the five a.m. check. Come to think of it, he might have mumbled something like Get that effing light out of my eyes, Grace.
But the seven o’clock check was different. Maybe he’d heard her rustling around, turning off her phone alarm before it went off. Maybe he felt the warmth of her breath as she leaned over him, and felt the mattress dent as her weight shifted closer.
“Graham,” she whispered. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
“My head feels better.” The bowling-ball feeling had lifted, and for the first time since the accident, he felt pretty normal.
“I have to turn the light on again.”
“As you wish.”
She did, and burned a hole through his retinas again, after which he politely thanked her. But then something weird happened.
She started to laugh. Not a ladylike chuckle, or a little giggle, but a loud, snorty laugh. She always laughed like that when she was a little out of control, when she didn’t care who heard her or what she sounded like.
“What is it?” he asked, wondering if he was missing the joke. Or worse, that he was the joke. Booger in his nose? He ran a hand through his hair to try to assess how badly it was sticking up. Between the stitches and rolling around trying to sleep between torture sessions, he guessed pretty badly.
She touched his arm. Her fingers were ice cold.
“It’s just, if I had to describe this situation to someone, I’m not sure I could. The reindeer antlers, the concussion, the iPhone neuro checks. It’s a little…ridiculous.”
He raised a brow. “A little?”
“Oh well.” She left the bed and put a thick, dark gray cowl neck wool sweater over her nightgown. “I’m freezing.”
“Turn up the heat.”
“It’s already on seventy-five, but it feels like sixty in here.”
“It’s the high ceilings and the big windows that you love so much.”
“I’d take character over heat efficiency any day.” Of course she would. She crawled back into bed, tossing her coat on top of the bedspread. “Since it’s technically morning, I’m not waking you up anymore. You’ve officially made it through the night. Now I’m going to get some sleep.”
It would be so easy to make her warm. Plus, there was no way he was going to be able to fall back to sleep. His head felt way better, and that was letting all kinds of other thoughts flood through. About how she’d blinded him, all right. With her phone light and her smile. She made him laugh, just like the old days.
All it would take was one of them reaching out to the other, to tear down the barriers between them. Everything that had happened to them since he’d walked into the bookstore yesterday—maybe it had all happened for a reason. Graham was not a romantic, but he realized he wanted to believe that was so.
His heart was thudding so loud, he could hear it in his ears. “Grace,” he whispered.
But all he heard in return was the soft, deep sound of her breathing.