Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
White walls like the rest of the house, clean, and modern too, yes. From the upcycled bed frame, a family heirloom, to the accent wall mirrors that had come from her grandmother’s beloved childhood home still standing at the far end of town.
All things Gracen loved.
So why did it feel full of ghosts when she was alone?
Maybe the real reason Gracen couldn’t bring herself to go to bed alone instead of chasing a beautiful distraction came from a fear she wasn’t ready to admit outside of the safety of her mind. If nothing else about her life had changed since her ex left, did that mean it was just a reflection of her, too?
Was she just the same?
Unchanged.
Stuck there. Back where Sonny left her, holding her entire world together like Gracen had needed to do for her entire life. No, nothing really changed, did it?
That was terrifying.
Gracen didn’t bother to text Malachi like he’d requested. The number was a cell—if he was like everybody else, the phone wasn’t far from his reach. To get as far out of her head and away from those silently screaming questions, Gracen chased the distraction she had available to her—would it be one more thing for the universe to laugh about later?
Malachi answered on the second ring. “I wasn’t expecting a call.”
His easy tone made Gracen grin.
“At all, or just this late?” she asked back.
“Honestly? I figured tonight was a wash. I was gonna take you out to eat somewhere, talk maybe. Except nothing’s open now but this fucking pizza shop and you’ve probably already ate, so—”
“I did eat,” she interjected smoothly.
“See?”
Gracen laughed, adding, “But I don’t refuse pizza.”
Suddenly, the man on the other end of the line perked up. “Is that so?”
“Even cold.”
“Cold pizza,” he deadpanned.
“In the bath is my favorite,” Gracen tacked on.
Just for good measure.
A low whistle cut through the phone’s speakers before Malachi muttered, “Girl, I was trying to be a fucking gentleman over here, but you’re making that hard.”
“What if that’s the plan?” she asked back.
“You should be warned,” he told her, “I’m elbow deep in grease at the moment. I gotta keep my end of the bargain and earn my spot to sleep by taking an old engine apart. I really did think the night was a wash, but—”
“You said the pizza place, right?”
What were the freaking odds?
“Did I?” Malachi asked.
“Yeah, is that where you’re renting?”
“Staying for a bit,” he corrected. “It’s a friend’s place. Why?”
Gracen put the phone on speaker as she headed out of the front of the house. That would make things easier when she explained, “Are you working on the old Mustang in the alley beside—”
“Checkered & Cheese—stupid name,” Malachi interrupted, his tinkering noise in the background quieting quickly. “Why?”
“Just a lucky guess. I’ll be over in thirty.”
“Minutes?” he asked as she stepped outside of the house on Mainstreet next door to the pizzeria with an alley that connected to a rear apartment with a garage. Gracen stopped more than once to admire the vintage car that was far from its former glory—the body was poorly but the open hood displayed an engine inside the Mustang on blocks beyond the mouth of the garage, but she’d never been nosy enough to ask anyone about it. “I can work with that.”
“Seconds, actually.” It was funny how some things just made more sense after the fact. “Apparently, it’s been your bike waking me up at six every morning. You’re five minutes earlier than my alarm clock every day. Let me guess—you’ve been in town a week, huh?”
“Let me be clear. I am not interested in crazy, Gracen.”
Did he think she was stalking him?
Cute.
Well ...
“What are you doing that early in the morning, anyway?” she asked.
“I like black coffee. My friend doesn’t keep anything that his mother hasn’t cooked or bought in his kitchen. Are you going to explain—”
“Yep, I’m almost there.”
“What?”
Gracen lied. Only a little white one.
It took maybe sixty seconds to get from her front doorstep to the pizzeria’s. She walked past the glowing windows, waving at the familiar waitress bussing a table close to the doors, and then rounded the corner into the private alley on the other side of the building. She hadn’t even stopped to check both ways on the street that ran down the west side of their rental house before crossing over to the pizzeria’s small parking lot.
She found Malachi at the end of the alley, inside the garage, still leaning over the hood of the car while he squinted at his phone sitting on a mechanic’s table he’d rolled within his reach. He hadn’t been exaggerating about the grease, but he could have mentioned the fact he was shirtless so Gracen could at least prepare.
She was such a sucker for a good back on a man. Strong, muscled, with shoulders wide enough to wrap her up and swallow her whole—the very sight of his fit, toned form was enough to make her shiver. The attraction took Gracen off guard. She hadn’t felt that for somebody else in a long time.