Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I leaned across the desk and picked up the receiver. “Leland, it’s taken care of.”
“Uh, okay, man. The detective already left?”
“Yeah. Nothing much to update. We’ll talk later.”
“Oka—”
I hung up, relaxing back in the seat. I was restraining myself from scooping her up and hugging her. I knew there were things I should be addressing here—first and foremost the fact that she was the prosecutor on my friend’s case, a case that had more to do with me than she could know. We needed to discuss that. Or maybe we shouldn’t discuss that. Shit.
Her hands moved in her lap and that ring caught my eye again. “You’re engaged,” I said. My voice sounded kind of flat, even to my own ears. It didn’t surprise me, but I could admit—to myself at least—that I didn’t like it. I hadn’t seen her in so many years and yet that ring on her finger made my guts churn.
She looked down at her hand, a confused expression on her face, almost as if she didn’t know what I was talking about for a second. “Oh. Yes.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“The wedding?”
I tilted my head. “I assume an engagement means there’ll be a wedding at some point?”
“Oh, um, well, we haven’t set a date yet.” She fiddled with her ring for a second before clasping her hands together and clearing her throat. Then her gaze shot quickly to my hand as if it had suddenly occurred to her I might be wearing one too. Her gaze was lowered. I couldn’t see her eyes in order to discern her reaction to my bare finger. But her gaze lingered there and after a moment she asked, “And what about you Carson? Anyone special in your life?” She seemed to go even more still than she already was—or maybe even brace—as though my answer was going to cause her an emotional response and she wasn’t sure what it would be. I dragged the moment out, watching her, noting her body language. Finally, I shook my head. “No. No one special.”
We stared at each other for a few beats before she broke eye contact and started to stand. “I should go,” she said suddenly, her words tumbling over each other, the notepad on her lap falling to the floor. I stood as she did and then bent to scoop up the paper. When I straightened, I was closer to her, and we stood staring at each other again for several seconds. A feeling of déjà vu hit me and it took me momentarily off balance. “Grace—” I started.
“I have to go,” she said before she pivoted and began walking to the door.
Stay. Don’t go.
“Grace, wait, have dinner with me,” I blurted.
She halted in her tracks.
“Just to catch up,” I said.
She turned slowly to face me. “Catch up?” she asked. God, her expression almost looked… fearful.
“Yeah. Just catch up. A lot has happened for both of us. I’d love to hear a little more about your life.”
She stared at me and I could see the internal battle she was waging. “Just dinner,” I said.
After a moment, she bobbed her head. “Dinner. Okay. Yes. Dinner would be fine.”
Fine. “Great. I can pick you up. If you’ll write down your address. I mean, do you live with your fiancé?” I asked. Goddamn, I was feeling so many emotions at once, I felt all tangled and out of whack.
“No, I live alone.”
That knot untangled just enough that I could pull in a full breath. I reached behind me to grab a pad and a pen off my desk. As she started to write, her hand paused as though she was having second thoughts. But then her hand began moving again and finally she handed the pad and pen back to me. I had this insane urge to run over to the safe in the closet and put her address in there in case she tried to take it back. Dial it down, Stinger.
“Carson, I—”
“Seven o’clock?”
She hesitated but then nodded. “Okay, seven.”
“Okay.”
We stood there awkwardly for a second before she turned and opened the door, glancing at me one more time before walking out. Holy shit. I sagged down against my desk.
Grace. Prosecutor Grace. Engaged Grace. Grace.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or throw something. I did neither. After a few minutes, I opened my office door and got back to work, because despite the jittery state of my emotions, people were depending on me.
CHAPTER 22
Grace
Somehow, on shaky, unstable legs, I made it back to my car in the garage. Emotions were dipping and soaring strangely. My body felt like I had just drunk seven pots of coffee in a row and then gotten slapped across the face repeatedly. I sank down in my seat, closed the door, and let out a long, trembling breath. Carson Stinger. Holy hell! I felt like a bomb had just gone off in front of me and I should check myself for shrapnel.