Maria, as ever the gracious host, served breakfast to Grace in her room, promising to keep something warm for when Rick woke up again. Which, as it turned out, was so much later that the day was creeping well on toward dinner by the time Rick began to stir.
To her amusement, he rolled over in the bed and nearly fell out when he didn’t realize that it was an unfamiliar one. He caught himself in time, flopping on his back like a fish as she giggled from across the room. Propping his upper body up on his elbows, he searched for her, a scowl on his hard face.
She stopped giggling in an instant. The expression he wore? It all but stole her breath away.
For one terrible moment, she wondered if he knew where he was. He claimed he already slept off the worst of his bender on a small, cramped cot in the backroom of the bar. Once he was sober enough to drive, he came right to see her the next morning—but he was still tired enough to knock out for another eight hours straight.
Did he remember everything he said? The promises he made? Their kiss?
“If you keep looking at me like that,” he grumbled, “I’m gonna jump out of this bed and drag you into it. Since I need a damn shower and you don’t want to know what my mouth tastes like right now, I’m doing you a service by staying here. But it’s tempting, Grace, like waving a red flag in front of a bull.”
Okay. So maybe he did remember.
“I’m sure Maria has an extra toothbrush you can borrow,” she said, rising up from the armchair until she was standing at the foot of the bed. Biting down on her lower lip, she savored the taste of cinnamon and whiskey she imagined still lingered there. “This room has a shower, too. We can share it if you want.”
He eyed her up and down, taking in her freshly blow-dried hair, the jeans and blouse she changed into earlier after she had her own shower. “But you’re already dressed.”
“So?”
Rick groaned, leaning his head back against the pillows. “Am I still dreaming? There’s no way I’m awake. This is too good to be true.”
Grace had to agree. She’d been waiting weeks for this and now that he wasn’t fighting it? Neither was she. No one was going to accuse her of not going after something she wanted. Life was too short. Tommy could find her tomorrow.
She wanted Rick now.
“Okay. There’s no way I can pass that up. If you mean it—”
“Haven’t you learned that I always mean what I say?”
“Then let’s shower. But only if you let me take you out afterward.”
“For a drink?”
Rick closed his eyes. She could’ve sworn he turned the faintest shade of green. Her Marine might be able to hold his liquor, but the reminder of last night would take a while to fade.
“To the coffeehouse. Let me buy you dinner.”
“Dinner? Sure. But I better make sure I work up an appetite first.”
16
Two hours later, with Grace leaning cozily into the embrace of Rick’s arm as he strutted around like a proud peacock, the two of them walked into the coffeehouse.
It was late enough that Gus would be serving his supper menu, though not so late that it was too dark out. Rick told her that he wanted to do more than feed her after the workout he put her through. He wanted to take her out into Hamlet himself, show her the spots that made the small town home for him.
She was looking forward to it. But, first? Food. She was starving.
Rick led her to an empty booth, nodding at some of the locals who called out a greeting. She was pleased to see that more than a few shouted hellos for her, too, and she offered a wave even if she didn’t recognize who was saying hi.
Addy bustled over to them as soon as they sat down, a menu in hand for each of them. The way she beamed let Grace know that Maria had been very busy on her radio.
“Here’s a list of my husband’s specials for the evening. Rick, here you go. And one for you, Grace. Now, can I get you two lovebirds anything to start?”
Rick choked at the term, recovering a few seconds later. “Coffee, please.”
“Me, too,” added Grace, unable to hide her grin. “And don’t forget—”
“The skim milk. I got you.”