Grace (The Family Simon 5)

“And by relationship, I don’t mean when’s the last time you screwed the same girl for more than a week. I mean, when were you in a relationship? You know, the grown-up kind.”

His eyes widened and then narrowed. And that generous mouth of his thinned. He grabbed his hat from his head and tossed it onto the countertop, regarding her warily.

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” He practically barked the words.

“You don’t need to. This is my time, Matt. You owe me.” She took a step toward him. “When was the last time you were in a grown-up, serious relationship?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” His voice was rough, his breaths falling faster. This dance they were doing, it was strange and exhilarating.

“Answer the question.” There was command in her voice. His eyes darkened, their glittery depths electric. The waters were rippling and she knew she’d hit a nerve.

Matt regarded her in silence for a good, long while without saying a word. He stared at her for so long that someone banged on the door earning a shout from Grace to use the men’s washroom. He stared at her for so long that Grace began to doubt herself. She was just about to throw up her hands and say to hell with it, when he spoke.

“Never.”

She blinked. Never? That was more than a little unexpected. Mouth dry, she paused, suddenly unsure of what to say or where to go from here.

“You look surprised,” Matt said.

“I am.”

He shrugged. Maybe to someone else he would have appeared nonchalant—as if he didn’t care. But she knew better. She saw it in his eyes.

“Why?” she asked, inching closer to him. “Why have you never let yourself get close to someone?”

He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, running his hands through his hair as he slowly shook his head. He was pulling away from her.

“You and Betty are close.” Her chest was tight and she clawed at the zipper of her jacket, undoing it a bit to ease the tension.

“Betty knows me.”

“I want to know you.” Had she just said that with her outside voice?

“Trust me, you don’t.” His response was curt with a hint of frost. He took a step sideways and Grace moved to block him. No way was he getting past her. Not now.

He glared at her, and she knew he was angry. Whatever. She was angry as well, and there was no way in hell he was going to dismiss her. Grace had grown up with four brothers and she’d learned early on to fight if she wanted to be heard.

“I told you in Nashville that I was no good for you.” A dangerous glint lit his eyes and instead of pulling back, he took a step toward her. “I wasn’t lying about that Grace. If you had any sense of self-preservation you’d hightail it the hell out of here right now and never look back.”

A thrill shot through her. He was so close she could smell that subtle scent that was all him. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled him and her heart ramped up again. She wavered a bit, a little dizzy, and put her hand on the wall to steady herself.

“I can look after myself,” she managed to say. (Whi

ch was a bloody miracle considering she felt as if she was falling.)

He took another step, his warm breath rolling over her. Into her. God, she was drowning in him. He had a lone freckle over his right eye and Grace focused on it, trying to keep her composure and failing miserably.

“You have no idea about anything. You’re just a little girl. How old are you anyway?” His voice was rough, the edge cutting and cold.

“Old enough to know bullshit when I hear it.”

That surprised him, but he recovered just as quick. “Look, darlin’. We had great sex. Not gonna lie. Great fucking sex. But that’s all it was. So don’t try to make it into anything more. I’m not wired that way. I’m not the guy you bring home to meet your parents. I’m the guy you brought back from the bar because you needed an itch scratched. I’m the guy you had sex with.” He paused. “And I’m the guy who left as soon as I got off because I had no interest in staying. It was just sex. So get over it.”

Grace had to take a moment, because there was a big old lump in the back of her throat and she couldn’t speak. His words hurt—that she couldn’t deny—and as she stood there staring up at him, Matt moved in for the kill.

“I know what you’re doing, Grace. You’re not the first woman to think she could figure me out or fix me and I’m sure you won’t be the last. Most of the time, I just let them think they can. I take what I want before moving on.”

She swallowed that lump in her throat, hoping like hell the tears that stung the corner of her eyes didn’t spill over. No way was she going to cry in front of him.