Too Close to Resist

CHAPTER FOUR

GRACE STOOD IN front of her easel, frowning. Somehow the idea of painting the river below on a sunny day had morphed into something dark and violent.

She’d had another nightmare last night. Was it a nightmare when you were replaying an actual moment in your life? When it was just reliving a night that was supposed to be a simple third date but had turned into the culminating moment of the next seven years?

Grace squeezed her eyes shut. Seven years. This wasn’t supposed to keep happening. At this rate, she’d have to go back to therapy, and she really didn’t want to do that. Therapy had been great for her. It had helped her leave the house again and trust people again. Well, mostly. It had worked.

If she went back, it would be admitting defeat. Barry would win. If she had to have someone help her out of this pit of fear again, seven years were wasted.

She didn’t want to remember, but the dream, the actual memory, crept back into her mind, infiltrated all those defenses she worked so hard at. Even the paintbrush in her hand and desperate pleas of her mind couldn’t shake it away.

You think you can break up with me?

She could still remember, dream or no dream, the exact sound of Barry’s voice when he’d said those words. Cold. Detached. Creepy because he’d been so absolutely incredulous. As if it were so unheard of. He was in disbelief.

And then he’d gotten angry. Quickly. His expression had gone from wide-eyed incredulity to squinty-eyed fury.

You don’t get to break up with me, Grace. I’m in charge here.

The first blow had hit her face before she could even brace for it. It had been so unexpected, so out of the realm of her expectations she couldn’t even flinch away. His fist had just plowed into her face.

Pain and shock and fear. So much damn fear. Maybe she’d held up her arms trying to protect herself. Maybe she’d tried to fight back. The rest was really a blur. His fists. Pain. Crying. Yes, she’d definitely started crying because she didn’t know what to do, or how to stop it.

Then blackness descended. She couldn’t see, she could barely breathe. Every inch of her body was on fire with a sharp, blinding pain. Something connected with her rib cage, sending another shock wave of agony through her body.

Nausea coated her stomach and she could feel the sickness rising, but she couldn’t move her head, couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry. Both in the memory and in the present, she was paralyzed with the fear and pain.

Suddenly the pain left, replaced by a shocking cold nothing. You’re dead, her mind said matter-of-factly, and for a moment she was glad. So glad the pain was over. What did it matter if she was dead?

But other people’s voices began to silence her own. Don’t leave us, Gracie. Mom’s voice. We love you, Gracie. Dad’s voice. Fight. Fight for it. We need you. Jacob’s voice.

The pain rushed back, so quickly she couldn’t breathe, but when she did manage a strangled breath the pain was soothed by their words of love. It was what had brought her back, those words. She knew that for sure. And there was a slight comfort in that, but it was a kind of comfort that had her sobbing in the here and now.

She could hear the fear in their voices, and she hated being part of the reason they’d been afraid. Hated that Barry had given them this kind of gut clenching pain that seven years hadn’t erased.

Those years between then and now had not dulled the intensity of the dream/memory, only its frequency. It made sense she’d have it again knowing Barry was free. Free to do whatever he liked. But she hated that they were all living with this again.

She wiped at the tears on her cheeks, looking at the painting, now dark and dreary. She wouldn’t let him have this, too. He had her dreams, her memories, her fear. But not this.

“Leak into my art all you want,” she muttered. “You will not win.” Grace carefully cleaned her brushes and put everything away. She’d break for lunch, call Mom for the daily check-in and come back ready to paint something different. Jacob’s interior decorator and administrative assistant were adopting a baby soon. She’d paint them something bright and cheerful as a gift.

Grace headed down the stairs to the kitchen, but the ebb and flow of conversation stopped her at the bottom. When she peeked around the corner, Kyle and Jacob and a handful of their employees were sitting at the table.

It was odd to feel so out of place. She’d met everyone at the table many times, but it was rarely during business hours. She’d never walked in on what appeared to be a meeting.

And maybe she was too raw, too beaten down by the things that plagued her to force the kind of confidence she didn’t really have.

To face Kyle after he’d been so decent and comforted her. Let her cry on his shoulder. Kyle. Of all people.

Grace looked down at her faded jeans and paint-splattered henley. The group at the table were all dressed in business casual, looking pretty and put together. Leah, the electrician, was wearing jeans and work boots, but even she looked more like a businesswoman than Grace with her hair pulled back into a perfect ponytail and silver hoop earrings.

Grace swallowed down the unwelcome wave of intimidation. Men with big fists and muscles were intimidating. People with college degrees and business savvy and elegant wardrobes were not.

Her feet didn’t listen, because they refused to move.

“Gracie, don’t be shy. We’re just having a working lunch. Come on in and help yourself to whatever.”

Grace tried not to wince at Jacob’s words or Kyle’s brief glance. A glance that seemed to scoff at the idea of her being shy. Which was right. She wasn’t shy in the least.

Forced into action, Grace entered the kitchen. “Just going to grab a sandwich, then I’ll go back to my room.”

“Don’t be silly.” Susan, MC’s administrative assistant, smiled. “We’re just talking.”

“Yeah. We only call it a working lunch to lure Kyle out of his office,” Leah added, grinning wider when Kyle sent her a disapproving look.

“Yes, well, we were discussing the Martin house, if you forgot. I call that a working lunch.”

“We can take a break,” Jacob replied, patting Kyle on the shoulder. Even Grace knew it was a sign for Kyle to lay off.

It didn’t make her want to stay as it usually did. In the shadow of all of these people—successful people—Grace didn’t feel much like yanking Kyle’s chain.

Grace went to the fridge and made quick work of putting together a sandwich. She opened her mouth to excuse herself, but Jacob requested a Coke. When she brought it to him, he nudged her into the chair next to him.

“Sit. Eat. Relax.”

Before Grace could retort, Kelly leaned closer. “I love your hair.” Kelly touched the ends of a pink strand and Grace gave Kyle a triumphant look. He looked down at his bowl of vegetables.

Was he really sitting there eating a bowl of vegetables for lunch? Of course he was.

“Me, too.” Susan patted her short black bob. “I wish I had the guts to do something different. I want to go platinum blond. Or maybe just shave it all off.”

“You are not shaving your head. Our baby will not have a mother with a shaved head.”

“Speaking of babies, I was thinking about painting something for your nursery, if you like. Have you picked a theme?”

“What a great idea! We haven’t picked a theme yet. I want to do unisex and Susan wants to know the gender first.” Kelly rolled her eyes.

“I guess if they’re talking about hair and babies, that means we have to talk about sports,” Jacob interrupted, leaning back in his chair. “How ’bout them Cubbies.”

Leah booed and tossed a napkin at Jacob.

Instead of Kyle’s joining the conversation, his mouth pressed into a firm line. “I think the business portion of this meal is over,” he said stiffly. “I’ll be in my office should anyone need me.”

Though he didn’t look at her, Grace felt admonished. As though somehow the conversation’s devolving into something besides business was her fault. She looked helplessly at Jacob. “I’m sorry if I ruined your meeting.”

“Don’t be crazy,” Leah said with the wave of a hand. “That’s just Kyle.”

“He has this condition. It’s very serious.” Susan shook her head and clucked her tongue. “The minute anyone starts having fun, his brain starts ticking like a bomb. Too much exposure to normal human interaction will give him an aneurysm.”

Jacob patted her shoulder. “You know how he is, Gracie. Don’t take it personally.”

Right. It wasn’t personal.

It sure as hell felt personal.

* * *

WHEN SOMEONE KNOCKED on the door frame of his office, the last person Kyle expected to see standing in the opening was Grace. Especially a frowning Grace.

“Are you busy?”

Yes. Very busy. Very busy trying to stop thinking about you. When she kept popping up, it was hard to manage. “Well, I—”

“It’ll only take a minute.” Since she didn’t advance farther into the room, he felt safe enough to be gracious and nod.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted your business lunch. It wasn’t my intention.”

The formal words and the detached way she spoke shocked him enough to be rendered momentarily speechless. He opened his mouth and no sound came out.

“I only wanted to get some lunch. Next time, I’ll be sure to avoid anything that might intrude on business. No matter what you think, I’m not here to interfere. So I’m sorry. I don’t want to mess anything up or distract anyone or ruin your—”

“Stop.”

“Stop?” Grace walked closer, confusion etched across her face.

“Stop...apologizing.” Kyle shoved out of the chair. When he was sitting, she could stand too close. Standing, he could keep some physical distance.

“But I—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Kyle was at a loss as to what to do with his hands. He always knew what to do with his hands. They rested stiffly at his sides, but they seemed to have their own mind when Grace was around, so he shoved them into his pockets. “If I gave you the impression you were intruding, I apologize.”

She cocked her head. “If I wasn’t intruding, why did you get all weird? You were sitting and eating lunch until I came along.”

“It’s just...” Kyle cleared his throat. He felt oddly panicked. In the midst of panic, truth could escape. He did his best to lock it up.

“It’s just what?”

“I just...” Shut up! his brain screamed.

“You just what?”

Kyle glared at her. “This is nothing new. We have a working lunch. They start talking about...things. Kelly and Susan talk about the surrogate or the baby. Jacob talks about whomever he’s dating at the moment. Leah has something snide to say about Jacob’s woman du jour and I...I leave.”

“Why?”

Kyle swallowed. “Because that’s what I do.” It was bad enough he’d explained that much. If he explained she only made it worse, only made it harder to shut down and back away, chaos would break loose. The kind of chaos that always came with emotion and feelings and...life.

“Why?”

Kyle inhaled, trying to find some balance, some clarity. How had something so detached suddenly become about him and his many issues? “No apology is necessary for lunch. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“If you’re trying to make me not want to get to know you, you’re really, really failing.” She gave him a sympathetic pat on the elbow. “Get back to work, Kyle. We’ll talk later.” She grinned, and it felt like a threat.

CHAPTER FIVE

A KNOCK SOUNDED at the door, three precise raps. Definitely not Jacob. He usually pounded once and barged right in. Only Kyle would knock as though he was concentrating on the action.

When Grace opened the door, instead of finding Stuffy Kyle, she found Runner Kyle. Man, she really liked the way Runner Kyle looked. It made the man underneath, whoever that might be, even more appealing.

She leaned against the doorjamb and smiled brightly. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I thought your mother was coming over this evening.”

“Her meeting went late. We rescheduled for later in the week.” Which had made the decision to stay with Jacob seem like a genius move on her part. If she’d stayed home, alone, in Carvelle, Mom never would have let a late meeting stop her from hovering. Things were better already. A few more weeks and Grace was sure she could go back home without devolving into a psychotic mess.

“Oh.” Kyle frowned. “Well, Jacob is out with Candy.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “I know. She practically strong-armed the little wimp into taking her to a movie. I have to say it’s nice, though. Hovering is kind of what I moved out here to avoid. Jacob sure as hell isn’t hovering.”

Kyle looked around her room at the handful of canvases she’d propped against the walls. Usually, Grace was all for people looking at her art, but something about Kyle’s scrutiny made her stomach clench. “Is there something you wanted?” she asked, hoping to get him on his way before she felt compelled to ask him what he thought.

“I’m headed to the gym. I’ll set the alarm before I go, but I’ll be gone longer than I usually am when I just run around the neighborhood.”

Grace tried to act nonchalant. This was no different from when he ran in the early evening. Just because it was dark and she’d be alone for a few hours was no reason for this wiggle of fear to work through her chest.

“Grace?”

“Right, yeah. Go. I’ll be fine.” She tried to smile and failed while the wiggle intensified to a flop. “Can I come?” she blurted. She managed a casual smile instead of a wince of embarrassment. “I’ve been using Jacob’s weights, but he’s got sissy ones.”

Kyle’s mouth actually twitched into an almost smile. “If you’d like.”

“Great. Give me ten minutes.” She closed the door before he could change his mind. As she changed, she refused to dwell on the fact that her heart was still racing and her palms were still sweating from the idea of being alone at night. Even after spending seven long years making sure no one could ever hurt her the way Barry had again, even with a loaded gun in her dresser drawer. Barry’s being free sucked all the power from the things that once made her feel safe.

She’d deal with that later. When Barry’s being free became normal and inconsequential. Oh, please, God, let that happen.

Dressed, Grace stood in front of the nightstand drawer, contemplating the gun. Usually she took it with her if she left the house, but with Kyle around she wasn’t sure that’d be such a great idea. And she didn’t know what kind of lockers his gym had. No, it was best to leave it behind.

And the idea shouldn’t make her vaguely nauseous.

Pushing that away with the rest of her worries, Grace hurried downstairs to where Kyle was waiting. He leaned casually against the counter, checking something on his phone.

“You should ditch the khakis more often.” Maybe if she goaded him into his typical disdainful eye rolls, she could ditch the panic and the insecurity in one fell swoop.

He gave her that condescendingly patient look. “I’ll keep it under advisement. Are you ready?”

Grace nodded, feeling jittery and amped. Her body practically vibrated with it as she followed Kyle out to the car. She couldn’t stand the silence. In silence, she could think far too much.

“So what do you do at the gym?”

She watched as he went through a precise routine of buckling his seat belt, turning on the ignition, adjusting the radio to a lower level, checking the street behind him. Was he precise in everything he did?

Grace had to fight back a giggle as her mind immediately jumped to sex. Well, at least her nerves weren’t making her a total wreck.

“I swim Wednesday and Friday nights.”

Grace took in the broad shoulders and thought of the muscled arms she’d seen when he’d peeled off his shirt the other day. Yes, she could definitely picture him as a swimmer.

“Are you one of those guys who do those run, swim, bike things? What’s it called? A triathlon?”

“I have done them in the past, yes.”

“Do you have the cute little bike shorts?”

He gave her a disapproving look. “No, I do not.”

“Bummer.” She grinned when he shook his head, his knuckles going white as he pulled into the lot of the gym. “You’re so easy, Kyle.”

“Great. Here.” He handed her a little piece of paper. “This is a guest pass.”

“You sure do think of everything, don’t you?” she muttered. Even if she belonged to a gym and got guest passes, she was pretty sure she’d lose them before she ever had a chance to use them. Not Kyle, of course.

Grace followed Kyle into the Bluff City Fitness Center, impressed by the big, bright lobby. She usually worked out at the Carvelle High School weight room or track thanks to Dad’s being the baseball coach. This place was twice as clean and smelled ten times better. No doubt the equipment would be superior, as well.

What had been a rash decision to avoid being alone wasn’t turning out half-bad. Maybe if she worked out hard enough, she’d manage a dreamless sleep tonight. Kyle gave her the basic layout of the place before disappearing into the men’s locker room.

Grace spent the next hour quite happily busting her butt on the weight machines. If after that she wandered over to the big windows overlooking the pool, it was only because the free weights were right there and she needed to check out if they were the brand she liked. If her eyes happened to scan the pool below and pick out Kyle’s long, impressive arms slicing through the water, well, who the hell could blame her? Watching him do stuff might be a little on the creepy side, but jeez, it was better than the alternative. Thinking about Barry.

Instinctively, Grace scanned the people around the pool. Her blood turned to ice at the sight of a large man with black hair standing off to the side. Her stomach pitched, fear paralyzing her breath.

And then a little girl ran across the wet concrete with open arms and the man smiled, hoisting her up.

Not Barry.

Grace stumbled back into someone running the track around the weight machines. She mumbled an apology. Not Barry. Not Barry. Stupid, stupid mistake.

She closed her eyes, sucked in a breath. Well, seeing Barry where he wasn’t hadn’t happened since the trial. Grace opened her eyes, squinted at her shoes. She let out her breath, took another, easier this time.

Regression. Plain and simple. Unacceptable.

Grace took to the track and began to run. Hard. Eventually she would exhaust herself enough so the panic and fear and worry that this feeling would always be a part of her life would disappear.

Or at least hide away for a while.

Her lungs burned, her already tired muscles screamed, but Grace kept running. She wasn’t going to stop until the pain drowned out everything.

* * *

KYLE CRESTED THE STAIRS, hoping Grace would want to stick around at least another thirty minutes so he could get some spinning in. He was toying with the idea of doing a Half Ironman in October, and he’d need to pick up the pace of his training.

Which wouldn’t be all that hard with Grace underfoot. Exercise was far more appealing than enduring any more alone time with her. Somehow, it always ended up with him flustered, revealing too much. And worse was when she showed a hint of vulnerability. He didn’t like what it brought out in him, this strange need to help and commiserate and smile. Worst of all, smile.

Kyle didn’t commiserate and he didn’t let people into the dark places of his mind, so it was best to avoid Grace as much as possible.

He scanned the machines, looking for Grace’s rainbow-streaked ponytail and that ridiculously yellow, ridiculously tight exercise shirt she’d been wearing. He didn’t see her on any of the machines, but he caught a bullet of yellow out of the corner of his eye.

She was running the track. Hard. His stomach did a sickening slow roll when he saw her expression. When he recognized it as panic and fear.

He should know. He saw that expression enough in the mirror. Not knowing what he was going to say, Kyle still found himself taking to the track and running until he caught up with her.

When he fell into step next to her, she actually flinched, stumbling over her feet a little. He reached out to steady her, but she jerked away.

“What are you doing?” she huffed out, not bothering to slow down once she’d regained her footing. Her face was red, her words barely audible through the gusts of breath she was sucking in and letting out.

“Take a break, Grace.” Good Lord, how long had she been going at this pace? The breakneck speed was enough to have even a seasoned runner like him exert a lot of effort.

“Nope.” But she began to slow. It took a while, another two laps, and then she was down to a normal pace. “What are you doing?” she repeated, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down her temples, and her chest heaved with the effort to breathe.

“Hoping to keep you from having a heart attack.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, a shot of temper so unlike her.

She looked so close to breaking down he was afraid sympathy might lead to the possibility of tears, and he was not at all comfortable with that. So he went for a different reaction instead. “Don’t be obnoxious.”

She stopped dead in her tracks so quickly he almost toppled over trying to stop with her.

The outrage on her face was short-lived, morphing into eyes filling with tears and a quivering lip.

Crap. Wrong tactic.

“I’m not done yet.” She put her hands on her hips and took a deep hitching breath. “I’m not done yet.”

He took a step away from her. Just leave her alone, his mind instructed. “All right.” But his feet didn’t listen to his mind, because he didn’t take any more steps away.