Grace (The Family Simon Book 5) (16 page)

She finished her coffee and was just about to grab some wood from the pile beside the fireplace when Rosie barked and struggled to stand.

“Hey, there,” Grace murmured, helping the dog up. “Do you need me to take you outside?” She scratched behind her ears. “Is that what’s wrong?” Rosie’s ears pointed forward and she growled softly and barked once more.

Another gust of wind slammed against the window and, feeling a bit cagey, Grace glanced around the room. Okay. She was alone in a farm house way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. And if by chance some degenerate decided to break in, there was no one to help her. Only a dog with two broken legs and damaged ribs.

Goose bumps broke out along her forearms and when the doorbell rang, Grace nearly jumped out of her skin. Sweat broke out across her body and, shivering, she got to her feet. Should she answer it?

She hesitated and then feeling silly took a few steps toward the hall that led to the front of the house. But still she was reluctant to answer the door. She didn’t live here—not technically anyway—and she was just about to turn back thinking she shouldn’t open the door to a stranger—when the bell rang out again, this time accompanied by a banging fist.

Obviously, someone wanted to see Matt.

With no choice and feeling more than a little foolish, she jogged down the hallway and opened the door. She wasn’t exactly sure what she expected, but the woman who stood there sure wasn’t it.

She was older than Matt—maybe early fifties—with long hair dyed a little too dark, and makeup that was a little too harsh for this time of day. On second thought, it was a little too harsh for this decade. Grace had heard somewhere that the lines on a person’s face told the story of their life, and if that was true, then this woman had lived hard and fast.

The woman frowned as she looked at Grace, her penciled-in eyebrows reminding Grace of the nasty caterpillars that clung to the trees in Florida. Overly dark, they stood out starkly against her pasty white skin. She looked confused and glanced back at her large SUV before turning to Grace. When she spoke her voice was rough—like two packs a day rough.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

And on top of that she was rude.

“Grace.”

The woman’s frown deepened. “This
is
Matt Hawkins’ place, right?”

Grace nodded. “Yes. He’s just not here right now.”

She swore, something unintelligible and then sighed. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“I’m not sure. Who are you exactly? I can give him a message if you like.”

She snorted. Or maybe it was some weird kind of laugh. But then the woman was silent for a few awkward seconds. She seemed to be struggling with something and caught Grace off guard when she took a step forward. “I need to use the washroom.”

If Grace hadn’t gotten out of the way, she was pretty sure the woman would have knocked her over. And probably not cared. What the hell? The whole thing was strange.

Grace closed the door and pointed to the left. “Powder room’s in there.”

She didn’t bother removing her boots and Grace ran to the utility room to grab a towel. Seriously. Who was this woman?

She’d just finished cleaning up the mess in the foyer when the woman came out of the bathroom, patting her hair back, eyes shrewd and intense.

“You Matt’s girlfriend?” she asked sharply. There was something in her tone that Grace didn’t like. It kind of went along with the look in her eyes as she studied Grace.

Clutching the now wet towel to her chest (she’d not bothered with a bra) Grace squared her shoulders. Maybe her answer was out of line since she really had no right to call herself girlfriend, but she was going to go with it anyway. “I am, and you are?”

The lady’s mouth thinned and for that one moment, she didn’t bother hiding her dislike. That startled Grace. She wasn’t used to being hated on sight for reasons unknown.

“I need to speak with Matt.” The woman was agitated now, and ran bony fingers through the dull, thinning waves at her neck.

“I understand that,” Grace replied. “But like I said, he’s out at the moment and I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

The woman glared at Grace as if she’d done something wrong and cranked her neck to peer around her, toward the back of the house. For whatever reason, Grace didn’t want her back there. That space was Matt’s. It wasn’t meant for this crazy lady’s eyes.

The woman sidestepped and headed for the kitchen.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Grace said, hurrying to catch up to her.

But the woman didn’t care. Heck, she acted as if Grace wasn’t there, and she whistled when she stepped into the great room.

“Damn. Mattie’s done well for himself.” She turned in a full circle, eyes darting here and there, touching all of his things with a greedy glint lighting up their pale depths. “Who’d of thought?”

“Excuse me. I really don’t feel comfortable letting a stranger in this house when Matt’s—“

The woman’s head whipped around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t snap her neck. “I am
not
a stranger,” she said, enunciating the words as if she was making some kind of political speech.

Okay. Grace was just about done with her, and more than a little concerned that she’d allowed a certifiable crazy person into Matt’s home.

“I’m Delilah.”

The seconds ticked by and
Delilah
looked as if she were waiting for Grace to say something. But what did she say?

“Um, okay, Delilah. I’ll tell Matt you came by and, uh, does he have your contact information?”

The woman,
Delilah,
laughed at Grace and then wandered over to the island where she picked up the note Matt had left for Grace.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” She glanced down at the note and laughed. “Bluebell? What the hell kind of name is that?”

That was it. Grace was done. She marched across the room and snatched the note out of the woman’s hand.

“I don’t know who you and I don’t care. You need to leave and you need to leave now. When Matt gets back, I’ll let him know that you stopped by.”

Delilah smiled. She made a smacking noise with her lips and then cocked her head to the side. “I can see why he likes you.” She dug in her coat pocket and popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “He’s always had a thing for brunettes.”

At her wits end, Grace could do nothing but stare at this woman who’d basically forced her way into Matt’s house. Her cellphone was upstairs and she had no idea where the landline was. Front room?

“It’s all right, darlin,” Delilah said with a wink. “I’m leaving.”

She took one last look around and then headed toward the front door, with Grace trailing behind her. She opened it and paused. “Tell Matt I was here and it’s real important he come see me. I’m staying in town at the hotel. Tell him I’m not leaving until he does.”

The woman slammed the door shut and Grace hurriedly locked it. She leaned back, clutching her note and the wet towel she’d used on the floor to her chest.

What the hell had just happened?

“Shit,” she said out loud. Because of the
no-talking thing,
she had no idea who this Delilah was, or what her relationship was to Matt. She stood there for a few more moments pondering that before heading back to the great room to help Rosie outside.

She knew what she had to do. It was time for her to put an end to the no talking-thing. If Grace and Matt were going to last, if they were ever going to be a thing, then it was time for her to dig deeper into the life of Matt Hawkins.

No more skirting the issue. They needed to talk. Really talk.

And dammit, she needed to know who the hell Delilah was.

20

^“
Y
ou are an absolute gem, Mathew.” Dory grinned and thanked him again for driving to town to pick her up at the train station. Hell, he would have driven to the airport if she’d called him earlier, but as it was when she did contact him she’d already been on her way back to New Waterford.

It had been seven in the morning when her SOS came through, and it had taken everything in him to get out of bed and not stay snuggled up to a very sleepy, very warm, and extremely cuddly Grace Simon.

But Matt couldn’t ignore Dory, her damn kids weren’t answering their phones. So he’d kissed his slumbering woman and crawled out of bed. Within half an hour, he was at Dory’s. He opened up her place—made sure the heat and water was turned on, and then plowed out her driveway which was full of snow again. Then he’d driven to town to fetch her from the station and was just now carrying her suitcases into her house.

“So what’d she do?” he asked, setting down one very large zebra print bag. “Your sister.”

Dory made a face and swept by him, her legs surprisingly nimble for such a small, old woman. “She’s carrying on with the neighbor, that’s what she’s doing.”

Matt tried not to smile. “Is that so?”

“That
is
so. Her neighbor, Mathew. A man nearly fifteen years younger than her.”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, Dory, but if that was a guy, we’d all be high-fiving him.”

She looked at him over the top of her glasses and frowned. “Would you be high-fiving him if his neighbor was married?”

Matt dropped the bags of groceries they’d stopped for and closed the door. “Okay, now I see the problem.”

“That’s right. My sister the harlot.”

He laughed. “Come on, she’s family. You can’t go around calling her names like that.”

“I certainly can. If not my family than who else?” Dory headed to her kitchen. “That’s the thing about families, Mathew. We sure can’t pick them. We get what we get and we have to muddle through.”

Matt had to agree with Dory on that score.

“My sister is a harlot and shame on her for carrying on with a married man. I don’t care if his wife is in a coma.”

Again, Matt tried to hide a grin. “How long’s she been in a coma?”

“It’s been five years, but that doesn’t make it right. Not at all. Harlot. That’s what she is.” Dory pulled out a pink glazed teapot shaped like a pig’s head and glanced over to Matt. “Are you in a hurry?”

He thought of Grace tangled in his sheets. All that hair. Those lips. That body. The little noises she made when he touched her in the special spots, the spots that made her quiver with desire.

“You’ll have a spot of tea with me before you go?”

Dory looked so damn hopeful that he couldn’t say no. He unpacked the groceries while Dory put them away, and ten minutes later he sat at her kitchen table with a hot cup of tea and a plate of shortbread cookies in front of him.

“So, tell me about Grace.”

He nearly choked on a cookie and once he swallowed it, he took a sip of tea to wash it down.

“She’s at my place. Kind of never left.”

Dory was surprised. He could tell.

“I like her. She’s good for you.” Dory dunked her cookie into her tea. “Where does she normally live? When she’s not staying with you?”

“Nashville, I think.” He frowned, unsure. “Or maybe Florida.”

Dory’s eyebrows rose and she made a ‘tsk’ sound. “You don’t know where her home is?”

“We haven’t really talked about any of that stuff.”

“And why not? Aren’t you interested in her story? I sure am. I’d love to know more about the only woman I’ve met who’s managed to finagle her way—“

“Finagle?”

“Don’t interrupt me, Mathew. Yes. Finagle.” She frowned. “No. Not finagle. That’s not the right word. She’s not devious. She didn’t trick you.” Dory smiled, her faded blue eyes soft. “Sometimes my brain doesn’t work the way I’d like it to. What I mean to say is that she’s the only woman who’s managed to crack that tough exterior of yours. She must be special is all. You know, for you to let her in.”

Matt nodded slowly. “She is special,” he said after a few moments. “But…”

“Oh, Mathew. There’s always a but, isn’t there?” Dory patted his hand. “Let yourself be happy. It’s time don’t you think?”

He didn’t know what to say to that and even if he did, Matt wasn’t so sure he could have answered. Not out loud anyway. He wasn’t used to his personal shit being discussed by Dory or anyone.

“If you don’t allow yourself some kind of happiness, you’ll wake up one day, alone with no family, and find yourself as old as me. I don’t want that for you, Mathew. You’re a good man. I think it’s taken you a long time to realize that you’ve always been a good man. It’s just sometimes the goodness gets buried beneath hurt and pain and circumstance. It becomes dark and loses its light. Sometimes it takes something or someone real special to shine it up again.”

Dory got up from the table and grabbed his empty teacup. “Now. That’s my two cents and I’m not going to say anything more on the subject.” She squeezed his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Other than you should get back to your special someone and spend the day in bed.”

“Is that an order?” Matt smiled and stood when Dory moved back.

“Damn right it is. It’s cold and crappy outside.” She winked. “On days like this when my Gilbert was still alive, we wouldn’t leave the bedroom.”

He leaned down and she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Don’t worry about me, Mathew. I’m sure Luke will run out here if I need anything.”

Matt highly doubted it, but he wasn’t about to talk smack about her son. “I’m just a phone call away.”

“I know. Bless your heart.”

Matt cranked the tunes, his spirits high as he drove home. Thumping his hands on the steering wheel, he sang along to an old Johnny Cash tune and was still singing when he cut the engine and slid from his truck.

He whistled the tune all the way into his house and once he chucked his boots and coat, he headed to the kitchen where he expected to find Grace. She wasn’t there, but neither was Rosie. Matt moved to the window and leaned against the frame.

He chuckled when he spied them over near the fire pit. Grace was flat on her back, and Rosie was on top of her, licking and barking excitedly. The dog’s tail wagged crazily and the dog wouldn’t let up with the licking until eventually Grace rolled over and got to her feet.