“Glad things went well today,” Logan said. “The girls and the committee did good. Raised a lot of money and I know that it made Herschel proud. Would have made their father proud too.”
“You been up to see Trent lately?” Betty’s father had never been a fan of Matt’s. Not that he could blame the man. Up until a few years ago, he had been nothing but trouble. Still, it killed Matt to see the sadness in Betty’s eyes when she talked about her father.
Alzheimer’s or dementia or whatever the hell you wanted to call it, sucked.
“Billie and I took Abel to see him a few days ago. He has no idea who we are and his health is failing.”
Logan fingered the label on his beer. “Whatever happened to your old man? Last I heard, he moved to
Arizona? He still alive?”
Matt’s face darkened at the mention of his father. He was someone he didn’t talk much about. “That son-of-a-bitch will probably outlive us all.”
He knew that Logan didn’t get the hostility. No one did. To the community at large, Dale Benjamin Hawkins—known as Ben to everyone—had been a salt-of-the-earth type. A standout cop. A guy who volunteered his time to coach hockey and baseball—and a man whose wife left him saddled with a young son when she’d taken off for parts unknown.
None of them knew the truth, because Matt had never told a soul.
“You want another?” he asked Logan, pointing to his beer.
“Nah, I’m good.” Logan smiled. “Here come the girls.”
Grace was laughing at something Betty said as they came up to the men. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair still a wild mess around her shoulders, and that delectable mouth of hers tempted him like no tomorrow.
He was done here. They had things to do.
“Bluebell.” He didn’t say it loud, but she sure as hell heard it.
Her laughter slowly faded and he saw her catch her breath when she met his gaze. Something about that, and the small sound she made, was enough to make him crazy, and his jeans more than a little uncomfortable.
She pushed a big chunk of hair from her neck and tucked it behind her ears. “Guys, I’m just going to say goodbye to my brothers.”
“Goodbye?” Betty looked confused. “You’re going already? But it’s early and the band hasn’t even played their best set.” Her voice trailed off and then she made a face. “Oh. Okay. I get it.” She leveled a look at Grace. “I take it you’re not sleeping in my old bed?”
“Betty!” Her sister Bobbi looked painfully embarrassed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Grace replied, taking a step back. “I’ve known Betty for a few years now, and I know her filter gets clogged sometimes.”
Matt had to agree with her there.
It took Grace all of five minutes to say goodbye to her brothers and, surprisingly, Tucker walked them both to the door and shook Matt’s hand.
“Drive safe and take care of her,” Tucker said gruffly. Matt knew the guy was just looking out for his sister—that’s what families did—so he took no offence when Tucker asked Grace to call him when she got to Matt’s place.
She snuggled up alongside him in the truck. And man, it felt as if she belonged there—as if she’d always belonged there. His mood was light and he whistled to whatever song was on the radio, something from the eighties, and that led to an intense conversation about whistling.
Turned out Grace couldn’t get the knack of it, no matter how hard she tried, and by the time they reached his place, she was laughing uncontrollably while trying to whistle along to the radio.
She stumbled getting out of the truck, but Matt was there and he grabbed her up close. “I think you’ve had more than your fair share to drink tonight, Bluebell.”
She nodded. “Yep. I’m drunk.” And then she giggled. “I’m drunk on you, Matt Hawkins.”
He stared down into her eyes and swept that stubborn long curl that was always falling over her forehead. She was so damn sweet. So damn soft.
He groaned and slid his mouth along her jawline, smiling to himself when she sagged against him.
Snowflakes fell from above, little intricate pieces of art that drifted onto their heads, and tickled their skin. He kissed several large flakes from her cheek and then captured her mouth again, this time settling her between his legs and holding her head steady with his hands.
She tasted like peppermint and felt like heaven in his arms, and as he kissed her there underneath a perfect winter night, something inside him broke open and filled his chest with heat. Everything inside him tightened and he froze for a moment, unsure of what exactly it was he was feeling.