CHAPTER SIX

WES

Satisfaction, warm and triumphant, settles in my gut. Grace wants me to stay despite the judgment of her so-called friends.

It's not surprising they left her out—they're selfish bitches. And while I don't like that Grace is hurt, I can't help but appreciate getting to spend time together, since our paths haven't crossed in a week.

Refusing to waste more of the night talking about Kayla and her posse, I ask, "How's your head?"

"Good, thanks. I had a small headache later that night, but nothing too terrible."

That's a relief.

I'd never admit this aloud, but my phone remained on the highest volume setting all week in case Grace needed help. The damn ringtone was a constant nuisance as it blasted through Dusty's with each and every call that wasn't from the woman I waited for.

Max would have a field day if he knew. He'd be pretty smug if he could see me now, too. Thankfully, he's too busy helping Kendra run the Miss Patty's Orchard booth, since Kendra is their marketing guru, and this carnival is their biggest event of the year.

That's why I'm here—they needed extra hands hauling in crates of apples. Once we finished, I was about to leave when I spotted Grace.

"I'm glad to hear your stubborn refusal to see a doctor didn't turn out badly."

"Like I knew it wouldn't."

We reach the front of the line as she finishes, and I wave off her money as a funnel cake large enough to share appears along with two frozen lemonades.

It may be a little chilly for the icy drink, but you can't go to the Apple Fest without splurging on Miss Patty's Rose Lemonades. They're a carnival staple that look and taste like strawberry lemonade but are made with the orchard's Hidden Rose Apples.

Grace grabs the warm funnel cake while I carry our drinks to an empty picnic table in a quieter corner of the grassy lot where the festival is held.

"Thanks for this, by the way." Grace holds up a bite of funnel cake. "This is our second of the night, but I'm not mad about it."

"Happy to help you exceed your sugar quota for the day." Besides, if it keeps her by my side, I'll buy as many funnel cakes as she wants. "So, what's your story?"

"What do you mean?" The words are guarded as her shoulders stiffen.

Her immediate apprehension is a surprise, and I'm not exactly the most forthcoming guy when it comes to talking about myself.

But that's me—a man used to being judged for my family and my youthful mistakes. What does Grace have to worry about?

"You don't have to share anything you're uncomfortable with," I say, hoping to put her at ease. "I just meant why did you move here? What do you do? The usual questions when getting to know someone."

"Oh, right… Of course." A scarlet blush blooms with her self-conscious laugh. "Things were stagnant back home, so I made a change. My friend Avery lives here and hooked me up with a job interview. Now, I work at Casey & Sons as a paralegal."

Fuck Casey.

That explains how she got tangled up with Kayla.

"Your turn. Tell me about Wes Gallagher, since I'm not sure how much truth was in Kayla's description," she mumbles around the straw of her lemonade.

"Absolutely zero, I bet." Dropping my hand below the table top, I let Shadow sniff my fingers before licking away the powdered sugar.

I need this guy on my side when it comes to Grace, and bribing him seems like a wise move. It's definitely better than having him growl at me like he did at the park.

"I'm a local. My mom lives in Arizona with her third husband, and my dad lives alone in the house I grew up in. I worked at Dusty's for years before the previous owner agreed to sell it to me." This is where I pause, contemplating how much to share before deciding to bite the bullet. In this town, it's impossible to keep secrets anyway.

"You've probably heard that I've been to jail."

She nods, sitting straighter on the picnic bench. Wariness enters her eyes..

I get it but still fucking hate it.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I sigh. "Contrary to the rumors, I've only been there once. For a night. The sheriff locked me up for underaged drinking and was trying to teach me a lesson…" And boy did I learn one. A sly grin loosens the straight line of my mouth as I recall that time in my life. "I learned to be more careful and not get caught."

Grace chuckles and shakes her head in mock disapproval. "Why do they act like you're a violent ex-convict that will act out at any moment?"

"It's a small town. Everything gets blown out of proportion. Add the fact that I was born poor white trash and started a lot of brawls growing up, you end up with me being a dangerous felon. But all of those fights were against assholes who thought they could insult me without consequence because mommy and daddy were members of the country club."

Exhibit A: Kayla Casey, formerly Kayla Rhodes.

Exhibit B: Andrew and Brandon Casey.

"I'm sorry for how they treat you." She reaches across the table to squeeze my forearm, and I wish like hell we were skin to skin rather than my stupid long-sleeved tee blocking contact.

"No need to apologize. Their behavior only matters when it affects what I want." I stare into her blue eyes, the pretty color full of empathy. Flipping my arm over, my fingertips brush along her exposed wrist. "And right now, I want to know what you're thinking. Am I an irredeemable bastard?"

Grace fidgets in her seat, her chest rising and falling with each quick breath. She wraps a curl around her finger and tugs as her teeth nibble on her bottom lip.

"No, I would never think that." The words are soft but firm. "You're a good man, Wes. You helped me out of a jam with my car, and tonight you rescued me from what was about to turn into a pity party."

" Good may be pushing it, considering the thoughts I've had about you, but I'll take it." Reading the question on her face, I wink. "Trust me, they're not appropriate for a family-friendly carnival."

Grace shyly ducks her head, but it's the truth, and I don't see the point in hiding the erotic dreams she's starred in. She's an attractive woman. Short. Curvy. A perfect handful.

"Um, I'll take your word for it. Do you want to walk around some more?"

"Hell, yeah. How about we swing by Miss Patty's booth? I can introduce you to Max's wife, Kendra."

We head in that direction, and at one point, Kayla sees us, her mouth gaping open like a beached fish, but Grace doesn't comment, so neither do I.

Our destination clears of guests when the family of five Kendra was talking to waves goodbye, leaving an opening for us to step up to the table.

"Well, look who decided to return. Are you planning on helping us pack up tonight, too?" Kendra asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Nope, I just wanted to introduce Grace and her dog, Shadow. They're new in town, but they're friends with Elsie Hawkins from the elementary school."

Max jumps to his feet and offers Grace a hand to shake. "We've already met, but since you had a head injury at the time…" He shrugs sheepishly. "Max Linfield, Wes's best friend since kindergarten, and this beautiful woman is my wife, Kendra. How do you know Wes? I don't think you mentioned it before."

No one could ever accuse Max of being subtle. He cuts right to the chase.

"We met on my first day in town. One of my tires blew on the drive in, and he was kind enough to take care of it for me."

"Was he now?" Max turns to me with a sly expression. The puzzle pieces are coming together for him. My fixation at The Ole Aces. Our run-in at Dusty's. The bike accident. And now meeting at the carnival.

Kendra elbows him in the gut. "Welcome to Suitor's Crossing. Have you been to the bridge yet?" The conversation continues from there as the women launch into the charm of the town's legend.

Another hour passes before Grace yawns and bows out for the evening with a promise to plan a coffee date with Kendra. We walk to the edge of the park, away from the gravel parking lot of cars, so I ask, "Did you drive?"

"No, I biked. It's locked up over there." She points to a metal rack. Hers is the lone bicycle left.

"I'm gonna have to get you on a real bike soon."

"I d-don't know… I've never been on a motorcycle."

That doesn't surprise me.

Grace is a good girl.

Riding on the back of a Harley, clinging to a man with those soft hands of hers doesn't fit that image.

"We need to change that," I rasp, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, my hand lingering on her skin. Grace's breathing hitches in her chest as her lashes flutter against her cheeks.

I'm going to kiss this woman.

I need to kiss this woman.

Swooping forward, our lips press together in a simple yet electric touch.

And my whole world is changed.

Because Grace is shy yet giving and so damn sweet it fucking hurts. My tongue teases her bottom lip until she allows me entry, and I groan at the slick heat of her mouth.

There's a crack in my chest. A fissure opening beneath the weight of a thousand different emotions. It's momentous. Terrifying.

All because of a kiss.

And I know I'm fucking screwed.