CHAPTER FOUR

WES

The Ole Aces is crowded for another wild Friday night. Most of the men and women just got paid, so everyone's itching to blow it all on a good time—except for me. I take another long drink from my beer as I survey the familiar faces, consciously avoiding the table of women to my far left.

Max bumps my shoulder with a wolfish grin. "What's it gonna be: blonde, brunette, ginger?"

Shaking my head, I refuse to answer. Max always tries to guess who I'll be taking home for the night. The problem is that none of the women here interest me. Most of them I've already fucked, while the rest are too damn annoying or bitchy.

Except for her.

My gaze wanders around the room again, allowing myself to briefly study Grace before moving on as if her curvy little body and shy demeanor haven't completely captured my attention.

"There's Lyssa. An oldie but a goodie?"

"Shut the fuck up." He damn well knows I'm done with Lyssa. We fucked a few times, but she kept desperately grasping for more. Acted like she owned me when no one did or ever would.

Max grins, flips me off, then returns to dance with his wife, Kendra.

I still can't believe he got married. And to a gem like Kendra Thurman.

Max used to be like me—a fuck'em and leave'em kind of guy. We loved our freedom, vowing to never chain ourselves to one woman for life.

Until Kendra moved back to Suitor's Crossing.

All of a sudden, the myths surrounding Suitor's Crossing about heart sparks and soulmates came true, because Max fell quickly, and he fell hard. Not that I begrudge his happiness, but sometimes I miss the way things used to be.

Damn, I'm fucking maudlin tonight.

I should be out on the floor locking down a woman to relieve the stress of another work week, but my mind and body refuse to rally any interest in what they'll find there.

Because of Grace.

When that cocky fuck reached out to touch her a second time, I'd instinctively stepped forward to stop him, a rush of fury filling my veins, and it confused the hell out of me.

I don't get overprotective or possessive of women.

I don't get jealous.

But all of those emotions rose to the forefront in an unprecedented crash, and I found myself defending Grace before I really had a moment to question why. I mean, I don't care to watch women get harassed, but this was more than a simple leave her alone .

Grace wasn't some nameless woman; I wasn't an objective bystander.

Far from it.

Then she'd immediately jerked away from my touch afterward, and that fucking stung. Nothing good can come from this damn fixation of mine. Hell, she couldn't even spend five minutes alone with me to clean up.

Women like Grace don't sully themselves with men like me—rough and uncouth.

Especially not after my comment about taking shots off her delectable body. That mistake sent her scampering back to the bitch squad led by Kayla. I can imagine the tales she's sharing with Grace.

Max and Kendra return to the bartop, and he follows my line of sight. "So… brunette?"

Not in this lifetime.

***

My alarm goes off at 6:15 AM the next morning for my daily run. Tossing on a pair of jogging shorts and a hoodie, I start stretching while mentally reviewing the list of errands for today—a roadmap to completing much-needed repairs on my house.

Due to its age and bad condition, I bought it for cheap a few months ago because I was tired of living in the small apartment above Dusty's. Always reeking of motor oil and tiny enough to be called a sardine box by Max, a change was necessary.

Purchasing a fixer-upper wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but I'm not afraid of hard work or learning new skills. Aware of my limits, I hired a crew to replace the roof first, then Max, a couple of Reaper's Wolves guys, and I worked on my bedroom and bathroom. Now we're on to the kitchen, where hopefully I'll finish the backsplash today.

The agenda set in my mind, I jog down the road, following my usual route. I love running at this time of day because it's quiet and empty of people, allowing me space to actually think.

Turning the corner towards Oak Park, my thoughts wander like the winding trails that lead through dense tree cover and over streams. The famous Suitor's Crossing bridge appears on my right, and like always, I avoid crossing it. Call me superstitious, but I don't need any chance of heart sparks sinking their claws into me.

I've evaded their clutches for three damn decades, so clearly I've gotten pretty good at dodging fate or whatever the hell is at work in this town.

An outcropping of rocks leads to a blind curve, which is when a cyclist rams into me from the other direction. My back hits the ground as an expletive echoes through the peaceful forest.

"Goddamn! Ever hear of watching for pedestrians?"

A growling dog jumps into view, teeth bared, black and tan hackles raised and oddly familiar.

"Shadow, komm !" Although the German command comes through labored breathing, the dog retreats to its owner's side. Grace's side. Her legs are tangled with a purple bike on the mulched path. "Sorry… Didn't see you." Shallow breaths puff from her chest as she remains flat on her back.

Anger forgotten, I crawl over to her, careful to seem non-threatening to Shadow as I disengage her from the fallen bike.

"Are you okay?" I survey her prone body and note the cuts on her palms and forearms, along with one long gash slicing up her calf.

"I'm f-fine… Just need… to catch my breath." Grace slowly pushes herself into a sitting position. We stare at each other in silence before she licks her lips and asks, "Do you always respond to accidents by yelling?"

I duck my head in embarrassment. "Unfortunately, yes. Sorry."

The apology feels foreign on my tongue. I don't apologize for my actions. I do what I want and fuck you if you have a problem with it.

Grace grimaces then gently pats along the back of her head. When she pulls her fingers away from her scalp, they're covered in blood.

"Oh, look, I'm bleeding…"

"Shit!" I rip off my hoodie and tee.

"W-what are you doing?" Her curious gaze roams over my bare chest and shoulders. She seems more concerned with my undressing than the blood gushing from her head, which can't be good.

How hard did she hit her head?

"Trying to help you."

"Getting naked is considered help?"

A reluctant chuckle rolls out of me. "When I need something to bandage an injured woman? Yes. Now, hold still." I tear a few strips off my shirt and wrap it around her head. The light fabric quickly darkens from the incessant bleeding. "Damn, this isn't working. We need to get you to the hospital."

"No!" The outburst shocks me with its vehemence. "No doctors. I just need to go home." She tries to stand, but I stop her.

"You can't go home yet. You probably need stitches."

Grace rolls her eyes. "You didn't even check to see how deep the cut is. Head wounds always bleed a lot. It seems worse than it is."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Can you grab my bike, please?"

"Hell, no. So, you can injure yourself even more?" Ignoring me, she stubbornly staggers to her feet, and I brace myself, ready to catch her as she lifts the bike with a groan.

"See, I'm fine. I didn't lose consciousness after the fall, so there's nothing to worry about." She bites her lip as if she's trying to convince herself as much as me. "I'll just walk home."

"You're really going to try and walk this off?" I study her pale complexion and the tight grip she has on the handlebars. She's trying to put up a good front but failing miserably. "You look like you're about to keel over any moment." Pulling out my phone, I call Max. He should be up by now since he's opening the shop.

"If you're calling 911, you're wasting your time."

"Relax, I'm calling us a ride." Once Max answers, I explain the situation and ask him to pick us up at the park. "Okay, my friend Max will be here in about ten minutes, which means you can sit now."

Grace hesitates like she's going to disobey the order then sinks down on a bench a few feet down the path.

"Finally, you listen. Was that so hard?" I grouse, lowering to a seat beside her, while Shadow stands sentinel between us until Max shows up. He shoots Grace a questioning look, her bandaged headdress dyed to different shades of pink and red at this point, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Wise man.

The two of us help Grace to his truck at the end of the trail—Max rolling her bike while I keep an arm wrapped around her soft waist. Shadow trots beside us, keeping a steady eye on the strangers near his mom.

"Alright, where am I going?"

Grace gives directions once we're in the truck cab. It's a five-minute drive to her apartment, and Max chatters the entire way. A barrage of questions are waiting for me at the end of this, since there's no way he doesn't recognize her as the woman from The Ole Aces last night.

But hell if I know how to answer them beyond laying out the facts of our accidental meeting this morning.

Grace smiles as Max cracks another joke, the first positive expression from her today, and it bugs the hell out of me that I'm not the one earning her favor.

Don't be an idiot. What's it matter?

After we're parked, I reach up to help Grace from the tall truck cab, but as my hands settle on her hips, she rears back. "What are you doing?"

The anxiety in her tone gives me pause. "Helping you down. You're short, and with a head injury, I don't think you should be jumping anytime soon."

Explanation tossed out, I take her in my arms, however unwillingly, and her nails find purchase in my shoulders as I gently lower her to the ground. The addicting scent of honey tickles my nose, tempting me to search out its source. Her hair? Her skin?

As soon as Grace's feet touch the graveled lot, she attempts to escape my hold, slamming me back to reality—a reality that's reinforced when she sways into the side of the truck.

"Whoa! I knew we should've taken you to the hospital." My arm curls protectively around her waist to steady her. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

Shadow trails us, keeping a close eye on me. I thank Max for the ride and send him back to work without a backward glance. I can jog home from here, and his inquisition can wait.

Once we enter the tiny apartment, I guide Grace to a beige and green couch before figuring out where the first aid kit is and gathering supplies for her wound.

"Moment of truth," I say as I sit next to her. "Let's see how bad this cut really is."

"You don't have to stay. I can take it from here."

"Nice try, but I'm not leaving until it's clear you're okay." The cut is underneath her ponytail, and I have her hold it to the side so I can see better. "Do you have a headache or anything?"

I remove the makeshift bandage, carefully separating the thin cloth from the riot of curls stuck to it.

"Not really. I'm a little tired, but that's probably because it's still early."

She's right. It's only 7:30. Everything happened so quickly.

"Or you have a concussion." I dab at the dried blood with a wet cloth from the kitchen until the wound becomes visible. "You'll probably have a scar, but I don't think it needs stitches since it stopped bleeding."

"That's a relief."

I hum in agreement, cleaning her up a little better. Red stains her neck and shirt—a little more blood and she could give Carrie a run for her money. "I'm no doctor, but I think we should leave this open to heal since I can't exactly put a bandage over your hair… Unless you'd consider shaving?" I tease before moving on to her other scrapes.

Grace snorts. "I'm not the one who needs a haircut."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I glance up to find her cheeks flushed.

"Nevermind. Thanks for… this." The last is hissed out as she flinches from the sting of alcohol.

"Sorry," I murmur, blowing gently over the spot. "Come on, tell me. You don't approve of my look?"

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to imply…" she stammers, shrugging her shoulders. "Your look kind of says… um… mountain man? But not in a bad way. I shouldn't have said anything. Kayla's diatribe must've gotten in my head."

"Kayla Casey? What else did she say about me?" No surprise that bitch is still trying to fuck with me.

"Nothing, really… I'm sorry I brought it up. It's your body. You can do what you want."

"Did she tell you how I refused her when she showed up at my home, naked beneath a trenchcoat? Like a cringey scene out of the movies." Grace's expression reflects her shock. "And that was just last month. She's been panting after me since high school."

"Last month? But she's married." Confusion laces her words, and a harsh bark of laughter rumbles from my chest.

"Married? Who fucking cares? Vows mean nothing to her. I'm pretty sure she and Brandon have fucked around on each other for years now."

Judging by the stunned look on her face, the news doesn't sit well, but if Kayla is going to slander my name, the least I can do in return is share the truth.

"I think you should go now," Grace whispers.

"Why? Because I shattered your illusion of perfect fucking Kayla?"

"No." She shifts to a single chair across from the couch. Shadow sits in front of her and rests his head on her lap. "Because I suffered a head injury and want to be alone."

Fuck. Thinking about that bitch Kayla had me completely forgetting the whole reason I'm here. Another apology falls from my lips, and I can't help but wonder what it is about this girl that's had me issue two apologies within the hour.

"Are you sure you should be alone? I can stay." I don't know why I'm offering. I know she'll turn me down, especially after my frustration with Kayla's lies got the best of me. But an idiotic part of my brain hopes Grace won't make me leave. That she'll see I'm not the loser Kayla and her posse painted me to be.

"I'm sure. I've got Shadow if anything happens, which it won't. Plus, my roommate Elsie should be home soon from this breakfast thing she had to attend. Thanks again for everything, and I'm sorry for hitting you with my bike."

Dismissed.

It's obvious I'm no longer welcome.

Hell, that's the story of my life.

Doesn't stop me from making one last promise, though. "If you need anything, call Dusty's and ask for me. I'll be here." Then I finally leave.