Sticks and Stones (6 page)

          He shook his
head and noticed a book on the pine coffee table. A slow grin spread across his
face. “Light reading?” he asked when he picked up the well worn copy of
Fifty
Shades
.

          Color filled her
cheeks before she lifted her chin haughtily. “It’s for research purposes.”

          “Um hm,” he
murmured, paging through the book, stopping to read the dog-eared pages. His
eyebrows lifted and his mouth formed a perfect circle.

          Grace reached
out to snatch the book away, but he lifted the book high over his head and
stood. When she tried to get up from the couch Rick tore his eyes from the
pages momentarily. “Watch that ankle,” he mumbled then continued to read.

          “Give me my
book!”

          He waved the
book in the air. “How many times have you read this?”

          “Only a few,”
she snapped.

          “Have you
learned anything interesting?”

          “If you must
know, I have a client who wants her bedroom designed like the one in that
book.” She held her hand out. “Now, if you’re finished being a jerk, I’d like
it back.”

          Rick sat on the
edge of the couch and placed the book into her waiting hand. His elbows rested
on his knees as he tossed a glance her way. “Are you into that kind of stuff?”

          “Are you?” she
countered.

          He waved his
forefinger. “Ah, ah, ah. I asked you first.”

          Grace shifted
uncomfortably and shrugged. “Some of it.”

          “Such as?” he
leered, wiggling his eyebrows.

          The doorbell
rang and for the longest moment they stared at each other.

          “Guess I’d
better get that,” Rick mumbled, not wanting to break the connection with her.

          Grace released
a breath when he strode to the door.

          She heard
several voices all talking over each other. Then she heard the shrilly peal of
Aunt Tilda’s laugh. “It’s you!” she giggled as she walked into the house.

          “Gracie! It’s
him!”

          Max and Blake
followed her in with puzzled expressions. “Him, who?” Blake asked, rubbing his
jaw.

          Tilda shuffled
over to the couch and sat next to Grace. Pointing to Rick she stated loudly,
“He’s the brick shithouse I saw in my gazing ball!”

*        *        *

          “What the hell,
dude!” Rick complained from the back seat of Max’s Mercedes.

          Blake turned in
the passenger seat and huffed, “I don’t care if you wanted to give Grace a kiss
goodbye. You two aren’t a good fit!”

          “Why? And who the
hell are you to tell me who I can date?” Rick growled.

          “First of all,
you
don’t
date!
You
have one night stands! Secondly, Grace is not
only my business partner, but she’s also my friend!”

          Rick harrumphed
and crossed his arms over his chest. “I
like
her!”

          “But only for a
night, right?” Blake snorted.

          Rick shot back,
“No, asshat!
Not
for a night.” He gazed out the window and rubbed the
back of his neck. “I don’t know how to explain it. She’s…unusual and quirky.
She seems confident and then not so confident.” He pushed and pulled on the
passenger seat. “Tell me about her.”

          Max glanced
over at Blake and sighed. Blake sat with his arms crossed over his chest and
his lips pursed. “Rick,” Max began. “Grace is in a fragile state right now. She
was living with her boyfriend for four years and found him sleeping with her
assistant, slash, best friend. Just recently he married the woman.”

          “Whoa. That
must’ve been the guy in the lobby today,” Rick surmised.

          Blake twisted
in the seat and gaped at Rick. “Ben? She saw Ben today?”

          Rick shrugged,
“Yeah, that’s what she called him. We were in the lobby arguing about me
carrying her and this guy walked up with flowers. Said it was a peace offering
and wanted to talk to her.”

          Blake lifted
his eyebrows, urging Rick to finish the story.

          “She told him
to give the flowers to his wife, that she wasn’t interested,” Rick grinned.
“Then I carried her to the elevator and planted a kiss on her.”

          “You didn’t!”
Blake yelped.

          Rick nodded
slyly. “Yep and she totally dug it, too.”

*        *        *

          Tilda gazed at
Grace’s ankle and tsked. “First things first. Let’s get that ankle in better
spirits!”  While Tilda busied herself in the kitchen Grace stretched out on the
couch and replayed the day in her head.

          When Tilda
appeared with two buckets she laughed heartily. “What are you thinking about to
turn your face so red?”

          Grace
stammered, “Um, nearly falling on my face in a lobby full of people.”

          Tilda placed
the buckets on the floor near Grace and lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Um hum.
C’mon, sit up. This bucket has cold water and this one has hot water. Both have
Epsom salts. Cold for twenty minutes then hot for twenty. Start with the hot
since you’ve had ice on it.”

          Grace did what
she was told and squeaked when her foot hit the scalding water. “Are ya tryin’
to hurt me?”

          “It’ll bring
down the swelling and speed the healing process. Now behave while I get the
pain reliever.”

          “Can you also
bring me a candy bar? They’re in drawer next to the phone.” She spotted
Reginald from the corner of her eye. “She’s a pushy old woman.” 

          “That she is,
but she means well, dear,” he soothed.

          Tilda returned
with a glass of water and two small white pills, along with a candy bar. “Here,
take these,” she commanded, placing the pills on Grace’s palm. “So…tell me
about him! How did you meet?”

          Grace swallowed
the pills and placed the empty glass on the side table. She rolled her eyes as
she tore the paper wrap from the chocolate bar. “I’ll tell you everything but
you have to keep quiet until I’m finished. Deal?”

          Tilda sat up
straighter and grinned. “Deal!”

*        *        *

          Blake pinched
the bridge of his nose at the barrage of questions Rick threw at him from the
back seat. “I’m getting a migraine!” he mumbled.

          “Don’t be such
a douche bag and answer my questions,” Rick taunted.

          Max breathed a
sigh of relief when he pulled up to the parking garage. He’d heard enough of
the two brothers bitching at each other.

When he
slowly pulled away he noticed Blake giving Rick the finger. He shook his head.
“Nice, Blake.”

          Blake shot him
a glare. “Do you or don’t you agree that he shouldn’t hook-up with Grace?”

          “There are
worse people than Rick. Hell, he’s a nice guy and I happen to think he’s
sincere,” Max replied, easing into traffic.

          “I know he’s a
nice guy! But he’s the
wrong
guy for her. He’s young and not ready to
settle down.”

          “Ben called me
today,” Max said softly.

          Blake twisted
in his seat and frowned. “And?” he prompted.

          “He told me he
made a mistake and wants Grace back. Wants me to file divorce papers.”

*        *        *

          “How romantic!”
sighed Tilda.

          Grace snorted,
“Romantic? That I’m a klutz?”

          “Heaven’s no,
child. But the kiss on the elevator?”

          Grace dipped
her foot in the cold bucket and hissed. “Are you sure this is supposed to make
me feel better?”

          “Yes, yes. Why
are you so hesitant?”

          “Aunt Tilda,
he’s
young
! It’d be my luck to fall for him and have him dump me for
someone his own age or younger.”

          “Age is just a
state of mind, Grace,” Reginald stated. “Look at me! I’m over eighty years old
and still feel like I’m sixty!”

          Grace rubbed her eyes,
exasperated. “I don’t need heartache, okay?”

Chapter Four

          Rick drove home
and pondered driving back to the south suburbs to see Grace. He didn’t want to
be a pest, but damn, he wanted to spend time with her. To find out why the hell
he was so infatuated with her.

          He hadn’t felt
this strongly about a woman since Taylor. He frowned momentarily. As much as he
wanted to put her in the past, he couldn’t. The pain on her face when he ended
things haunted him still.

          He’d just been
drafted by the New York Rangers and was going places. He knew it.
Felt it
.
But Taylor still had two years before she finished school. He was only being
realistic. Was it easy? Fuck no! But he also knew he wouldn’t be monogamous. It
was hockey, baby!

          And after all
these years, he still felt like a shithead.

*        *        *

          Reginald
watched as Tilda lit candles around her pad. She nodded to him and recited a
spell from her Book of Shadows. Afterwards she glanced up at him, her lips
thinned in determination. “Grace’s pain will be erased.”

*        *        *

          Grace thrashed
around the bed causing Chewy to jump to the floor. When she finally awoke she
brushed the hair from her face with a shaky hand. “Ben’s in trouble,” she
whispered.

*        *        *

          Janice was in
her office when Ben entered the kitchen. He wanted to confront her last night
about the weird shit in her room, but needed to talk to Grace first. He closed
his eyes and moaned. He was suave in the courtroom and could easily sway a
jury. Grace, not so much.

          After speaking
with Max the day before, he told him to continue as if everything was status
quo, to not give Janice any reason to worry. Max never liked the condescending
bitch and was only too happy to represent Ben in his divorce case.

          “Hon? I’m
leaving for work now,” Ben said cheerily, through clenched teeth.

          “Whatever,” she
hissed from behind the office door.

          Ben’s face
snarled at her reply, but he closed the front door gently when he left. No need
to give her fodder.

          Janice watched
as he backed the BMW from driveway. He was working her last nerve! And once she
had Grace’s clients in her back pocket, she’d divorce him and take every last
cent that he owned.

          She tugged on
her ponytail and cackled. Life was good.

*        *        *

          Grace bit her
lip while she pressed several numbers into her phone.

          “Hello?”

          “Ben, we need
to talk.”

*        *        *

          It was a lovely
day in the city of Chicago. Would’ve been lovlier if Blake wasn’t such an
asshat and gave him Grace’s phone number.

          So, the only
thing to do was to drive to her home to see how she was feeling. Right?

*        *        *

          Graced hobbled
to the door. But before opening it, she checked her image in the antique mirror
that hung on the foyer wall. After smoothing a few wayward strands she opened
the door.

          “Ben thanks for
coming,” she murmured. “Please, come in.”

          He nodded; glad
she wanted to see him. “Grace, I don’t know where to begin,” he stammered.

          Chewy flew down
the stairs and hissed when she saw Ben.

          Ben snorted,
“Nice to see you, too, Chewy.”

          Grace led him
to the couch and sat. Chewy leapt onto the back of the couch and kept her eyes
on Ben. He sat a comfortable distance away. “Ben,” she began. “What’s happened
is in the past. We can’t change that, but something is very wrong.”

          He nodded in
agreement. “I made a huge mistake Gracie, but I’m going to fix it. I’ve retained
Max to represent me in my divorce.”

          Grace’s eyes
widened. “Divorce? You just married her!”

          “I know, but
everything about our relationship is wrong!” He rubbed the back of his neck and
paced in the small living room. “I don’t think she’s what she appears.”

          Grace swallowed
hard, nodding. “I don’t think so either. Last night I dreamt she was practicing
black magic.” She shook her head. “Look, as much as you think my beliefs are
odd, you have to trust me and let me help you.”

          He sat next to
her and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I took pictures of her office
yesterday when she was gone. For fuck’s sake Gracie, she has clippings of my
hair and nails! What the fuck does that mean?”

          She gaped at
the photos and frowned. “When did she take an interest in the occult?”

          Ben shrugged,
“I have no idea.”

*        *        *

          What would
normally be a thirty minute drive turned into an hour and thirty minutes on the
expressway. Morning rush hour sucked on a good day, but an accident in the
opposite lanes caused a huge gapers block. Rick cursed under his breath.
“Morbid mother fuckers.”

          When he finally
made it to her street he glanced at the clock. Breakfast was out of the
question, but there was always brunch!

          A  BMW sat in
her driveway so he parked on the street. A motion from the corner of his eye
caught his attention. Her front door opened and Three Piece stepped onto the
cement step. Rick’s stomach flipped when he saw him kiss Grace on the lips. His
stomach tightened even more when it turned into more than a casual goodbye
kiss.

          He shook his head
dejectedly as he pulled away. So much for the guy being a memory for her.

*        *        *

          Rick stomped
into
Play It Again Sam
, Emily’s antique store.

          “Rick! It’s so
good to see you!” Emily Storm smiled. Her smile faltered when she noticed
Rick’s demeanor. She came around the glass counter. “Hey, are you okay?”

          “Yes,” he spat.
“No. Oh hell, I don’t know!”

          “Hey, c’mon
into the back room. We can talk there,” Emily said softly.

          She perched on
a long mahogany table and her legs dangled back and forth. His fists clenched
at his sides and he brought them up to his head. “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

          Her eyes
widened. The only time she’d ever seen Rick this upset was when some guy sent
him into the boards during a hockey game last season. Rick beat the shit out of
the guy in the next period.

          “Um, can’t help
if I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said softly.

          He grinned
slightly. “Can’t tell ya if I don’t even know myself.” She giggled and patted
the empty space next to her. He groaned and sat down. “Oh Emily. I met a
woman.”

          “Do tell,” she
whispered conspiratorially, nudging his arm.

          He shook his
head. “It’s crazy! I don’t even know where to begin.”

          Emily smirked.
“Crazy? You’re
talking
to crazy! I’m the one who talks to ghosts. You’ve
got nothin’ on me.”

*        *        *

          Grace sat on
the couch, hugging a pillow against her chest. Her fingertips brushed against
her lips. Ben kissed her and she felt nothing. Not want. Not need. But more
importantly, not love.  Not anymore.

*        *        *

          Emily took a
deep breath. “Okay, here’s how you play it.” Rick lifted a curious eyebrow and
she continued. “Be her friend.”

          Rick slid off
the table and rubbed the back of his neck. “Have you not heard a word I said? 
I don’t want to be her
friend
!” He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter anyway.
She’s probably going to go back to that ass hat.”

          “Wow! Are you
trying to make excuses to not go after her? You’re sending mixed messages
here,” Emily huffed.

          “How can I
compete with a guy she was with for four years?” he growled. “Never mind the
fact that she’s got a problem with our age difference.”

          Emily tucked a strand of
hair behind her ear. “Look, most women don’t go back to guys who hurt them. At
least, not smart ones. The suit isn’t an issue, so don’t worry about him. Use
reverse psychology on her. Make her think you’re not interested in her, that
you’re only looking for a platonic relationship. She needs to see how wonderful
you are until she realizes age doesn’t matter.” Emily hopped from the table and
crossed the room to him. “Besides, you need to figure out if what you’re
feeling is real. She’s already been through one heartache, Rick. Be her friend
first. The rest will fall into place…if it’s meant to.”

*        *        *

          Grace walked
into her home office and pulled her Book of Shadows down from a heavy oak
bookcase. She licked her lips and tried to concentrate as she paged through the
book looking for a protection spell.

          “Grace! Come
quick! Matilda has fallen and I can’t wake her!” Reginald begged as he suddenly
appeared next to her.

          The book fell
from Grace’s hands as she raced to the back door.

          She sped across
the back yards of her neighbors, ignoring the dull pain in her ankle.

          Aunt Tilda
never locked her door during the day so Grace pushed the door open and heard
Reginald calling to her. “She’s in the dining room!”

          She found Tilda
lying on her stomach with a pink feather duster clutched in her hand. Gingerly
she rolled her aunt onto her back and placed her ear over her heart.

          “Oh God, oh
God! I can’t hear anything!” she whimpered.

          “Grace, she’s
not dead. I’d know if she was. You need to calm down,” Reginald said softly.

          Grace’s pulse was rapid and
her breathing heavy with fear. She jumped up, ran into the kitchen and grabbed
the phone from its cradle. Her hands shook as she dialed 9-1-1.

*        *        *

          When Rick
pulled up to Grace’s house he saw several emergency vehicles a few houses down.
Then he spotted Grace. He remembered her saying that her aunt lived four houses
away. He quickly got out of his car and ran towards her.

          “Reginald, you
need to be with her. I’ll be okay. I’ll meet you at the hospital,” she said
low, crossing her arms over her chest.

          “You’re in no
shape to drive alone young lady! I’ll not have you get into an accident because
you’re upset. I’ll ride with you,” Reginald replied sternly.

          When Rick got
closer he heard Grace having a conversation with herself. A rather heated one,
too, by her tone. “Grace?” he said cautiously.

          Grace dummied
up and turned to him. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

          A female EMT
approached. “Miss Ryan? We’ve got her stabilized and are heading to Community
Hospital.”

          “Thank you,”
Grace sniffled. “I’ll be there shortly.”

          When the EMT
got into the vehicle, Grace pointed her finger at the ambulance and hissed into
the air. “Go! I’ll be fine!”

          Rick cocked his
head. He’d seen Emily talk to air, too.

          Reginald’s lips
thinned. “You’re as insufferable as Matilda!”     

          Grace glanced
at Rick and rubbed her eyes. “Aunt Tilda had a stroke. She hit her head on the
tiled floor and was unconscious.”

          “C’mon, I’ll
drive you to the hospital,” Rick said softly, wrapping an arm around her
shoulders.

*        *        *

          After Grace
gave Rick directions to the hospital she laid her head against the seat and
stared out the passenger window and sobbed softly.

          He placed his
hand over hers. “Hey, she’s going to be okay.”

          Tears shimmered
in her eyes and she gave him a half-hearted smile. “I don’t know what I’d do
without her,” her voice cracked.

          He gripped her
hand tightly and glanced at her leg. “How’s that ankle doing?”

          She shrugged,
“Fine. Aunt Tilda worked her magic last night. It’s only a little sore now.”

          Rick’s eyebrows
furrowed. “Really? Magic?”      

          A smile formed
on her lips. “Not really magic. She’s just a wiz at healing.”

*        *        *

          Grace held her
aunt’s hand. “I’m not leaving!” she replied hotly. “Aunt Tilda, you suffered a
stroke and have a huge lump on the side of your head!”