Written in the Stars (13 page)

“This isn't a game to me.”

Mason knew that this was where he should apologize, but he remained silent. Getting involved with someone likely to leave once she was bored would be plain stupid. Kissing her had been insane, because ever since he'd held her in his arms, it was all he could think about as soon as she walked into the room. He was thinking about it now and it pissed him off even more.

Gracie gave him a lift of her chin. “I'm not one bit intimated by your crossed arms or your icy glare. Your whole broody thing rolls right off my back. I've worked with diva fashion models and bullheaded businessmen who wrote me off as a dumb blonde. My mother dealt with the same thing. Your little pout means nothing. Zero.” She curved her finger to touch her thumb. “Nada.”

“I don't pout,” Mason insisted, and then realized that was exactly what it sounded like he was doing. “Look, when we first discussed your investment, I hoped you were going to be more of a silent partner. I thought that this was going to be an investment, something you needed as a tax write-­off or something, and you would go on about your merry way. I shouldn't have agreed to having you take over marketing. At least not in such a big way. I just didn't think you would get this involved or do this much research.”

Grace raised her arms above her head. “Why would you think...,” she began, and then her eyes widened. “Oh...right, the dumb blonde thing raised its ugly head. I guess you thought that I made my money riding on my mother's coattails. Played around with makeup like I was playing around with Barbie dolls. Or maybe Daddy funded the whole thing for me.” She shook her head really hard. “Well, for your information, I created Girl Code with my own hard-­earned money. My mother made it clear to all of us that we needed to work our tails off and create our own success, just like she did. My father, who loved money more than his family, had a prenup that left her with virtually nothing after she finally left. Of course, it's hard to leave someone who was never there to begin with.”

“Gracie...” Damn, he felt like such an ass. He knew it was his plan to piss her off so she would back off, but still, this was too much. He hated seeing Gracie this upset.

“In fact, Garret had to
overcome
living in the shadow of Rick Ruleman and finally prove how talented he truly is after all these years. Having famous parents isn't always what it's cracked up to be.”

“Gracie, I—”

“You have a lot of bloody nerve.”

“You put words into my mouth.”

“I could see how you feel about me in your eyes.” When Gracie tilted her head, her hair slipped over her shoulder. Mason remembered how silky it felt when it brushed against his face. She was wrong about one thing. She didn't have a clue as to how he felt about her.

“Really?” Mason asked softly. “So you think you can read my mind?”

“Yes,” she answered just as softly.

Mason took a step closer. “So what am I thinking?”

“That you want to kiss me again.”

Mason looked at her mouth and felt desire so damned strong that he could barely keep from pulling her into his arms. She surprised him at every turn. He wanted to deny it, but even if he did, she'd see right through the lie. “And if you're right?”

“Then you should do it.”

Mason swallowed hard and stood as still as a statue. Any movement would be to touch her, to kiss her...and so he shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because of all of the reasons I already mentioned. You've said that you feel the need to wander, explore. You get bored. Gracie, Cricket Creek, Kentucky, is my home and always will be. Getting involved with you would be...stupid.”

“Well, I hate to tell you, but you're already involved or we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Gracie was right, but he wasn't going to let her know it. “No, I'm preventing a lot of heartache for us both. You should thank me.”

“All right, then, you've made yourself crystal clear. This will remain strictly business.” Grace reached over and picked up her iPad. She stuffed it back into her case and hefted her purse over her shoulder. “I want to make a few things of my own clear, though. I invested in this brewery for a few reasons. Solid reasons. I was looking for a challenge, something different. I also needed an investment.”

“I know,” he said in a gentle tone.

Gracie gave him a quiet, rather sad smile that hit him in the gut. “But there is a lot of that kind of thing out there. This wasn't a whim. I really did dive into the research. I wasn't going to just toss my money away. But it's not the main reason I chose to invest in your brewery.”

When she fell silent, he looked at her. “Are you going to enlighten me?”

She licked her bottom lip. Her chest rose and fell as if she was holding back emotion. “I wanted to help and...”

“And what? Are you going to finish?”

“No. I'm going to leave,” Gracie said, but paused long enough to give him the opportunity to stop her.

He wanted to. God, he wanted to.

But he didn't.

Born to Run

B
LINDED BY TEARS,
G
RACE WISHED
THAT
HER
EYEBALLS
had windshield wipers so she could see straight. Filled with a whirlwind of emotion, she wobbled as she walked across the endless floating dock, clinging to her purse and iPad for fear of having them fall into the river. Of course, if she fell in, all would be lost. She wasn't exactly sure why she'd become so undone. That Mason hated her marketing plan was a given, but she was quite certain she was on the right track, and so he could just bugger off on that one. Grace had learned from her mother that success was more than a great product. Her mother's early designs were magnificent, but the market was small. Filling a need was the way to approach the market. Mason would soon find that out. Grace was used to naysayers, and it only made her want to prove them wrong even more. Part of her tenacity stemmed from her desire to be taken seriously and squash the notion that she was a rich girl playing around in the business world. She'd known she had something special and marketable with Girl Code, and in truth, her struggle with getting her company off the ground taught her more than if the road to success had been a smooth one.

When a stiff breeze made the dock move up and down, Grace planted her feet firmly and got her bearings before proceeding. No, she knew that her explosion of emotion came from Mason hitting too close to the mark. Avoiding their attraction would end up saving heartache for them both. There was only one problem. She couldn't remember ever feeling this strong pull of attraction to anyone—­especially this quickly—­and to not explore where it could lead just seemed like such a loss.

But Mason was right.

Grace somehow made it to her cabin, tossed her things onto the sofa, and then flopped down in a heap of noisy sniffing, crying, and cursing. She put phrases together that didn't even make sense, punctuating each sentence with a stomp of her foot. A pillow, innocent of any wrongdoing, went flying across the room, nearly knocking over a lamp. She looked for something else to throw and then remembered that this wasn't her place...and since when did she throw things anyway?

But she suddenly wanted to do something crazy to blow off steam. She inhaled a couple of deep breaths, trying to think of something maybe like...like...doing a cannonball into the river! Wait—­were there snakes in the river? Would a turtle bite her in the bum? Would catfish nibble at her toes?

Was there really a Loch Ness monster?

“Okay, scratch the cannonball idea,” she mumbled. Maybe she should head to Sully's and finally get the lemon drop martini that she'd missed out on with her mother. Ask for one the size of her head. Perhaps she should call Sophia and pour her aching heart out to her sister, who was a good listener.

Or then again, maybe she should just sit right there and feel sorry for herself, which was utterly ridiculous because she had so much going for her, especially at the moment.

Didn't she?

Grace squared her shoulders. After all, at the age of twenty-­eight she'd sold Girl Code for more than a million dollars and she'd been serious when she told Mason that she'd developed and financed the company on her own. Convincing the bank to lend her start-­up money hadn't been easy, but she'd had her ducks in a row and learned to pitch from her mother. She had a loving and supportive family, and now they had Lily. And for the first time in forever, she was in the same place with them all...not counting her father, who was never around anyway. She did love him and missed him, but in a rather abstract way.

So why in the world did she feel so lost?

At lonely, uncertain times like this, Grace wished she had a loyal dog like Rusty, the Irish setter, who belonged to Mason but spent most of his time hanging around the bistro with a little doggie girlfriend named Abigail. They were so cute together, like something out of a Disney movie. Right now Rusty would have his head resting on Grace's leg, looking up at her with sympathy in his soulful eyes while she patted his head. Abigail would jump onto her lap and lick her hand. Yeah, maybe she needed a dog. “Or a cat or a gerbil...any bloody thing!” she wailed. “Okay, enough!”

Crying was pretty foreign to Grace because she was such an upbeat person, but the warm tracks of tears streaming down her cheeks felt oddly freeing. Licking her lips, she tasted salt, and she wondered if she would carry on crying or if at some point the tears would simply stop once the well was dry.

Oh, the mysteries of life...

Grace inhaled a shaky breath. While she understood Mason's reluctance to embrace the Broomstick Brewery idea, she had crunched numbers with her accountant in addition to doing marketing analysis. There might not be another craft brewery in Cricket Creek, but there were lots of them in nearby Lexington and Louisville, with the number growing steadily. Craft breweries and related businesses in recent years generated more than $160 million in tax and revenue just in the state of Kentucky. While the popularity continued to grow beyond expectations, Grace also knew that the market was saturated. At some point something had to give, and only the strongest would survive. Plus, the big dogs like Budweiser weren't happy about craft breweries taking a big chunk out of their profits and were doing everything possible to make distribution difficult, including buying up ingredients necessary for brewing.

Mason wasn't going to be able to make much of a profit with just local distribution. Cricket Creek wasn't big enough, even with the baseball stadium. Having a venue that big certainly helped, but it was seasonal. No, Mason was going to have to expand to a regional level. While he was creative and smart, marketing wasn't his strong suit, and that's where he needed someone like her. Why couldn't he see that? She wasn't the damned enemy.

Grace realized that male pride was getting in Mason's way. He didn't like her swooping in and taking over—­and she got that loud and clear—­but he would soon see that she was a godsend. The quality of his beer would speak for itself. Broomstick Brewery was simply a marketing tool. At least she hoped so.

Grace also knew Mason was fighting his attraction to her because she'd admitted she would leave at some point. But Grace believed in honesty, and sadly, she knew that day would come and more likely sooner than later. Mason was doing the sensible thing by not kissing her again, getting them both involved in something doomed from the start. Another fat teardrop slid down her cheek and landed with a splash on her hand. If it hurt this much not being with Mason this early in the game, she couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like to fall completely in love with him and then have to leave him.

Unless she stayed.

That seductive thought slid into her brain and hovered there, circling and floating, making her want to reach up and grab it. God, how she wanted to hang on to the possibility of staying and cling to it.

“No, no...no.” With a sigh, Grace looked up at the ceiling and then shook her head. “That would never happen,” she said in a broken whisper. She'd gotten the roaming gene from her father, who wasn't a bad man, just not a family man. Was she just like him? The thought made her shudder.

Grace thought about how amazing it felt to hold Lily in her arms, and for the first time she suddenly felt a hollow pang. She wondered if this was her biological clock ticking in response to the baby smell and the feel of holding sweet Lily?

Grace closed her eyes and swallowed. Could she ever put down roots? What did Mason call it? Bloom where you are planted? Or would she have to uproot and carry on?

Marco Cosmetics was already after her to come up with a Girl Code line of urban nail polish, and although Grace had turned them down, if they sweetened the pot she knew she might cave in and do it. She'd already been thinking about wild shades and jotting down kick-­ass names for the polish. Once an idea wiggled its way into her brain, she was helpless not to see it through, or it drove her to distraction. Grace craved constant change and challenge...It was part of what made her tick and would wage war with her biological clock. People who roamed weren't meant to get married or to have children.

Or fall in love?

No, she didn't think that anything or anyone could ever keep her in one spot without having her going completely stir-­crazy. She treasured her freedom. Didn't she? Okay, if she was honest with herself, perhaps not completely. Grace sighed, thinking that the charm of this small town must be getting to her. Sophia had as much as said the same thing. And there could be compromise. Mattie and Garret were a shining example of how to blend two very different lifestyles together.

“Okay, then, this is getting you a big fat nowhere.” Feeling sorry for herself wasn't in Grace's nature either, so she pushed up to her feet and headed to the bathroom to wash away the tracks of her tears. “Just look at you,” she said after viewing the black mascara running down her face. “You're one hot mess, Grace Gordon.” After scrubbing her face and patting her cheeks dry, she picked up her tablet and decided she'd listen to some music and maybe do a bit more research. No matter how much Mason didn't like it, she was determined to make the brewery a success in the best way she knew how. It wasn't just about protecting her investment, but also about helping Mason see his dream come to fruition. But she didn't want to let him know that her investment had anything to do with wanting to help him personally. Part of the emotional tug was that he was a Mayfield. Grace had gotten to know warmhearted, loving Mattie in London. Mattie's stories of the antics of her brothers had entertained Grace but also gave her a glimpse into the close-­knit Mayfield family.

But it was Mason who drew her in like some magnetic force that she couldn't control.

When he walked into the room, Mason commanded her full attention, something that was difficult to do. A brush of his fingertips, a lingering look, the sound of his voice, stroked her senses in a way that she'd never experienced. And they had kissed only...once. What would it feel like to be naked in his arms with his mouth exploring her body, inch by inch?

“Oh dear Lord.” Grace grabbed a bottle of water and headed outside onto her back deck. A stiff breeze and gray clouds rolling across the horizon indicated a storm warning, but she didn't care if it poured down rain. The wind caressed her face and lifted her hair, bringing the earthy scent of the river and woods her way. She inhaled deeply, thinking she would miss having nature wrapped all around her once she headed back to the city.

Grace turned Pandora on to the Billy Joel channel, her go-­to guy when she was in a mood. Like the storm brewing, her mood was an odd mixture of anger, disappointment, and something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Oh yeah...desire. After a long sigh, she gave her bottle of water a look and decided she needed a glass of wine. Crossing her fingers that she had a bottle of her favorite red, she went back inside and located a nice Cupcake merlot. After pouring a glass, she looked at the bottle and decided it might be the kind of night to consume the entire thing, and so she picked it up and took it with her.

The first glass of wine made her feel mellow. She sat back in the lounge chair and looked out over the water, letting her mind wander here and there. After consuming her second glass, she started singing along with Billy to “Only the Good Die Young.” She sipped and sang, carefully avoiding a look in the direction of Mason's houseboat. Who cared if he was home or not? Who cared if he hated her marketing plan? Who cared if she was falling in love with him?

“What?” Grace sputtered.

She sat up straight, nearly sloshing red wine over the rim of the glass. “Now, just hold on.” She inhaled a deep breath and carefully placed her glass on the small table beside her lounge chair. Okay...the important word here was
falling
. She was
falling
for him. Not in love...yet. She would just have to stop the
in love
part from happening. She could do that, right? “No.” She shook her head, knowing that falling in love didn't work like that...or at least she didn't think so. All she knew was that she'd never felt like this before, and she needed to put on the brakes.

The trick was going to be doing her job in an efficient, impersonal manner and leaving how she felt about him out of it. “This requires a list.” Grace picked up a pen and stared at the blank sheet of paper. “Okay...okay, I've got one.” She wrote number one and circled it. “Do not think about kissing him. Stop ogling his very fine bum. Do not be sucked in by his killer smile or his sweet Southern drawl.” She tapped the pen against her teeth. “Aha.” She nodded slowly.
Stay at least five feet from him so you can't get a whiff of his aftershave. Do not think that his broody, sulky demeanor is somehow sexy. Above all else, stop falling in love with him!
Grace tossed her pen down and dusted her hands together. Ha, piece of cake. She took a big gulp of wine in celebration.

In fact, Grace was so pleased with herself that she was starting to get hungry. Thinking that some fruit, cheese, and crackers would go nicely with her wine, she stood up and walked through the double doors, nearly bumping into...“Mason!” Grace shrieked. “You scared the daylights out of me!” She backed up in order to adhere to her five-­feet-­away-­from-­him rule. She'd already caught a whiff of his aftershave, and she already had kissing him on her mind. “Damn.”

“Sorry. I knocked, but I was drowned out by your duet with Billy Joel. I know I shouldn't have come in, but the door was open, so—”

“Why are you here?” Grace bluntly interrupted, and then turned Billy Joel off.

Mason shrugged. “I couldn't resist your singing. Your voice carried across the lake.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at him, digging deep for the not-­thinking-­about-­kissing-­him rule, number one. Of course he had the nerve to look super hot in a plain black T-­shirt and basic Wranglers. “Since when do you crack jokes?”