She watched him for a second before calling his name.
Rick straightened the instant he realized she was there. Pulling himself to his full height, he stood up, the heavy thud of his boot hitting the wooden slats on the wraparound porch echoing in the early morning quiet.
He started for her. Within three or four steps, he stumbled. Cursing under his breath, shoving his hair out of his face, he continued to head toward her.
Wait a second—
Rick never tripped. He had much better control of his body like that, even when they were sparring and she got him down. Half the time she only got him down because he allowed her to.
That… that was stumbling.
“Are you… are you drunk?”
His smile was boyish, and also a little bit impish. “I was. I’m not sure it’s all worn off yet, but I’m sober enough for this.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. I know. And that’s all my fault. It’s why I’m here. I’m about to change all that. Because I should’ve told you last night. I thought you didn’t mean it… I mean, why would you? I don’t have much to offer you. But what I do have? It’s yours. I want to give you everything I have, as broken and as worthless as it might be. Because I want this. I want you.”
She scowled. “You are drunk.”
“Trust me, I’m not. Georgie wouldn’t have let me leave the bar if I was, and Sly stopped me this morning to do a sobriety test. I know what I’m saying. I like you, Grace. I like you a lot. And maybe I should’ve told you this already, but I’ve liked you since you first came here. It’s why I keep on adding classes. Making them longer. Buying you fucking books. I can’t get enough of you. And I never wanted to take advantage.”
“Rick.” She didn’t know what to say. She almost wanted to pinch herself and make sure that this was really happening. “I’m a grown woman. I know what I want. You can’t take advantage of me. I’d never let you.”
“That’s right.” Pride flashed across his face. “‘Cause you’re my Tiger.”
For the first time since last night, thinking of his nickname for her didn’t hurt. Her breath caught in her throat. “Rick, I—”
He didn’t give her the chance to finish her thought. That was a good thing since Grace still didn’t know what she was about to say. Didn’t matter. The next second, Rick took her gently by the shoulders and drew her up so that they were closer in height. Years of training kicked in and Grace went up on her toes as soon as she understood what Rick’s intentions were.
Tilting his head just so, he pressed his lips against hers. Softly at first, then with a little more urgency. She opened her mouth, inviting him in, and that was the last choice she had in the matter. Rick kissed like he fought: without apology, without regards to fairness, and as if his life depended on it.
She tasted the whiskey on his breath. It was warm and spicy, almost like cinnamon.
Grace loved cinnamon.
In the back of her consciousness, the tiniest part that wasn’t all consumed by Rick’s taste noticed the hum of a vehicle as it went past Ophe
lia. It only stuck out to her because, in the time since she’d been in Hamlet, she rarely ever saw a car go by Maria’s bed and breakfast and never this early in the morning. The hum was familiar, though. Not as loud as a vehicle, or the soft purr of the Jaguar. Phil’s golf cart?
Maybe.
Who cared?
She didn’t. For once, Grace didn’t care as Rick hefted her up in his arms, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He only broke the kiss long enough to open Ophelia’s door and ask which way to her room.
“She’s staying in the Sunflower Room, Ricky. Take a right in the hall, it’s the second door on the left.”
Her cheeks heating up, Grace glanced around for Maria. The couch was empty; not even the book was there. Though her voice rang out from somewhere nearby, Grace didn’t see her. She tucked her face along the side of Rick’s neck as he started purposely for the hallway.
He didn’t seem too bothered by her friend’s interruption. With a grunt, he called back, “Thanks.”
The sounds of Maria’s husky laugh followed them all the way to her room.
Despite his protests, Grace put Rick right to bed. Alone. Then, because it was too tempting to lay down next to him, she curled up in her armchair and watched him.
The bed in the Sunflower Room was a queen and it usually swallowed Grace up in its luxuriously soft mattress. It amused her to see a man of Rick’s size take up more than half of the space as he sprawled out, lying on his back. She removed his boots the second he knocked out—which, as she expected, didn’t take long at all—and chuckled at how his feet nearly hung over the edge of the bed.