Текст книги "The Rules According to Cracie "
Автор книги: Stefanie London
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 6 страниц)
Air rushed from her lungs as his mouth came down to her belly, kissing a blazing trail down to her center. His tongue parted her, delving, searching. The long, slow strokes pushed her higher and higher, each lick sending flames through her as she melted into the bed.
“Fuck.”
She never swore. Never, ever, ever.
“Fucking hell!” She wound her hands into his hair, tugging him into position.
He slid his hands under her ass, fingers biting into her flesh as he devoured her. Gracie bucked and arched against his face as his tongue swirled a hypnotic spiral over her clit. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her and she moved in time with his rhythmical assault.
“Such dirty language,” he murmured against her. “From such a lady.”
“I can’t—” She writhed, head rocking side to side. “Oh, God.”
Just as she thought she’d reached the peak, he slid a finger into her, twisting in and out in time with the purposeful flicks of his tongue.
She broke apart hard and fast. Spots danced behind clamped eyelids as she cried out, her back lifting from the bed. Her body shook and her hands fisted into the bed cover, heat and pleasure and satisfaction flooding her. Drowning her.
As she floated down to earth, Des’s weight pressed into her, his lips at her temple.
“That’s two.”
“I can count.” She wound her arms around his neck and drew him closer. “Though, I might not be able to after the next one.”
“That’s my goal.”
He reached over her to pull open the drawer next to the bed and grabbed a silver packet. Tearing it with his teeth, he never took his eyes off her. He sheathed himself with the condom and came back down onto his palms.
Here we go.
As he nudged her legs apart, she lifted to meet him. Positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, he brought his mouth down to hers for a deep yet tender kiss as he entered her in a single, steady stroke. His thighs were heavy between hers, his hips grinding her into the bed.
Hot, primal, carnal heat filled her with each movement. She was crushed beneath him, absorbed by the softness of the bed and floating on a wave of euphoria that she wanted to last forever. The sweet friction of their bodies pulled her out of a satiated state, hunger returning with force.
She wanted him. Needed him.
He angled his hips, shifting so that he filled her more deeply. His mouth was hot at her throat, teeth on her skin, the wild fluttering of her heart intensified by his hands all over her. Pleasure swelled, the pace increased. In that moment there was nothing but the sound of his deep, rumbling moan and the heady scent of him.
The orgasm slammed into her out of nowhere and her throat burned with a scream as she let go, falling, falling, falling. Her nails dragged up his back and he panted against her neck, her muscles squeezing him tight.
Now it was her turn to watch him unfold, the pupils of his entrancing eyes widening until she stared into an abyss. He moved with the powerful grace of a predatory cat, the muscles in his back cording beneath her hands.
“Gracie, baby.” It was drawn out, long and anguished and beautiful. He loomed above her, his hand finding her breast as he thrust.
He pressed his forehead to hers, noses touching as she stared unblinking back, wanting to drown in him, wanting to go under and never come back up.
“I want you to come, Des.” The words shook, her body already breaking apart. “Come for me.”
Her name was on his lips as he threw his head back, roaring his release to the ceiling. His skin glistened in the dim light, his tattoos stark against flushed skin. As he let his weight rest beside her she curled into him, never to be the same again.
Chapter Seven
Gracie wasn’t a morning person, not usually anyway. But the first crack of sunlight had her eyes snapping open like she’d been jabbed with a stick. She tried to shift onto her back, but something held her down.
A tanned arm, sprinkled with dark hair, lay over her midsection, a hand curled possessively against her stomach. It was difficult not to notice the jut of something hard against her lower back nor hear the drowsy murmur of pleasure as Des moved against her in his sleep.
Her body ached. Everywhere he’d touched her burned with satisfaction and a hint of delicious soreness. The memory of him moving above her would be forever imprinted in her mind, a bar set impossibly high for any other man she might end up with. Gracie cringed at the thought.
No other man would ever compare to Des.
Despite the stillness of her body, her heart beat wildly. Panic seeped through her like a poison, stilling her movement while her insides went into shock. What had she done? One minute she was at her mother’s house defending herself and her choices and then next…
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to slow her breathing. She’d almost had sex with Des at the restaurant and, if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d come home with him to do the one thing which would either ruin their friendship or ensure she’d break her promise to her father.
What the hell were you thinking? You can’t have it all. This isn’t a fairy tale.
Beautiful, kind, imperfect Des. He was her friend and she’d screwed it up by sleeping with him. How could she have been so stupid?
Any way she turned she would be hurting someone and making herself miserable. She had shared something special with Des last night. It wasn’t just amazing sex. They had a connection on some primal, instinctual level that made her body and soul sing.
Deep down, she knew that she’d never have that with anyone else.
But being with Des would mean putting them both through hell with her family, not to mention that she’d have to live with the guilt of failing her father. No matter how much she wanted to explore their connection, she couldn’t put him through that.
She couldn’t risk giving in, only to lose him when it all got too hard.
To protect them both she had but one option—end it now.
Des had hoped for many things upon waking after spending an incredible night with Gracie. He’d hoped she was willing to climb on top of him for the promise of continued pleasure, despite the fact they’d woken up in the middle of the night for round number two. He’d hoped that she’d be up for breakfast and the strongest cup of coffee he could make. At the very least, he’d hoped that she’d be happy to laze about in bed for a while before they faced the real world.
Yet as the sunlight streamed in through wooden blinds, and his eyes adjusted to the pale morning light, what he got was something else entirely.
Gracie was fastening her bra while searching for her underwear. Her hair stuck out in all directions, the curls tangled and wild like a halo around her face. Mascara had smudged under her eyes, giving her a sexy dishevelled look. But it was the wide-eyed, fearful expression on her face that caused Des’s blood to run cold.
“Looking for these?” he asked, plucking her lacy underwear from where they draped over the railing at the end of the bed.
“Uh, yeah.” She took them from him, her eyes averted. “Thanks.”
“Something wrong?” He threw the covers back and got out of bed. He didn’t miss the way her lips parted when she caught his naked frame in her gaze.
“No, nothing’s wrong.” She wriggled her hips as she pulled the cream scrap of lace up over her thighs. “I…uh, have to get going.”
“So soon?”
“Duty calls.” She folded her arms across her chest, her breasts pushing up and looking more delectable than ever.
His cock stirred again. He took a step towards her, wanting to stroke that smooth skin of hers until she melted against him. Instead, she found his boxer briefs on the floor and handed them to him, a silent request for him to keep his distance.
“Gracie, it’s Sunday.” He pulled the briefs on but made no move to get dressed further. “You don’t work weekends.”
“But you do…don’t you?”
“I’m not on ’til the evening. The restaurant is covered for the brunch shift.” He sighed. “I do have some sort of a life, you know.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Yes, well I should still be going anyway.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.” He closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. They were cold, fine-boned. “I thought you had a good time last night.”
“I did.” Her eyes fluttered up, her dark lashes framing them perfectly. In the course of their intimate night together he’d learned that her eyes were not a mere brown but a mixture of golds, reds, and chocolate shades. Brown was far too boring an adjective for someone like Gracie.
“Then why are you so eager to run away? If I hadn’t woken then would you have said goodbye?”
“We had our night, Des.” She tugged her hands away from him. “That’s all it was. One night.”
Part of him had known that’s all he was going to get from her, but the words still stung. Disappointment pounded in his chest, the ache of reality spreading through him, slow and steady.
“What if I want more?”
“You can’t have more,” she said. She shook her head, her hands fiddling with the strap of her bra. “I can’t have more, either. That’s not how it works.”
“I don’t understand. We’re two adults who like each other and we had an incredible night together.” He frowned. “Unless you’re going to tell me I’m wrong?”
“No, it was incredible. It was thrilling and amazing and the best sex I’ve ever had.”
“Then what’s with the runaway act?”
“That’s exactly the point, Des. It was good sex—no, it was great sex—but that doesn’t mean it’s anything more. It doesn’t mean we can sustain things for longer than a night.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who was worried about being a one-night stand, and now you’re telling me that’s all this is?” He raked a hand through his hair, his temple throbbing like a drumbeat.
“You said we were right for now.” She turned, obscuring the panic in her eyes, and hurried towards his bedroom door.
Following, Des threw his hands up in frustration. “‘For now’ doesn’t mean one night only. It means we’ll see where it goes.”
“I know where it goes, Des.” She stalked into the living room and found her shirt and jeans where they had landed on the floor the night before. “I’ve been down that road before.”
“Enlighten me, Gracie.”
He watched as she fumbled with the zipper on her jeans, her hands shaking as she hurried. “It ends with us discovering that we’re not right for each other, except instead of having the memories of one great night we have a world of pain and anger and resentment to get through.”
“Why aren’t we right for each other?”
Déjà vu swirled to life in Des’s mind. He’d been here before—he’d had this conversation before, except he’d been the one running away, and it had ended with a diamond ring being thrown at him. His grandmother’s diamond ring, the one he’d been so sure would be on the hand of the woman he loved forever. They hadn’t even made it down the aisle.
Memories of the last time he saw his ex-fiancée flickered before his eyes. Her Queen’s Counsel father hated the fact that his daughter was engaged to a blue-collar boy whose mother spoke broken English. Des had been the one to call it quits in the end because he couldn’t put up with the constant criticism.
Haven’t you learned anything? Listen to her, she’s right. This is a disaster waiting to happen. You had great sex, now move on.
“We’re too different,” she said. “Our lives are too different.”
“Why? Because I work with my hands and you work with your head?”
“It’s more than that.”
“Tell me what it is.” It would have been better if he’d let her go, but he had to hear it. He wanted to torture himself with her words, wanted the sharp slice of her judgement to cut into him, to teach him a lesson.
Maybe then it would be easier to be without her.
“Well…” She chewed on her lip and smoothed a hand over her hair, unable to tame it into shape. “You’re at First til all hours and I’m always up early. We’d never see each other. We’d never spend time together.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“We don’t have anything in common.”
“Not true. We both enjoy food and wine. You’re starting to enjoy dancing.”
Her lips pulled into a ghost of a smile. “We’re from different worlds.”
And there it was, the truth.
“My family is so uptight, so traditional. They’re stuck on these stupid ideas about how I should live my life.” She twisted a strand of hair in her fingers. “I’ve already lost someone I cared about because I tried to ignore our differences. It doesn’t work.”
“You’re worried they’ll think I’m not good enough for you.”
The realization that Gracie held exactly the same prejudice as his ex made his blood boil. He’d known it deep down, but to hear it out loud was another thing entirely. He was good enough and he certainly wasn’t going to settle for someone who didn’t see that.
She didn’t have to respond. The flame in her cheeks and the shame that pulled her eyes to the floor was enough to confirm his suspicions.
“Des.” She spoke his name as though it were a sigh, a question, an apology.
“What, Gracie?” His voice was more solid than his thoughts, thankfully.
“I’m sorry.”
“Really?” He folded his arms, too, mostly so they wouldn’t act of their own accord.
She bit her lip. There were no fancy words, none of the snappy banter that he’d come to expect from her. “Yes.”
“And why is that?” He should tell her to leave because it would be the smart thing to do. But that stupid, stubborn, idealistic part of him—the part he denied over and over—wanted to hear her out.
“I treated you badly. I shouldn’t have come to you last night knowing where it would go. I got caught up in the moment….”
Most guys would be thrilled for a gorgeous, sensual woman to offer their bodies without a demand for commitment. When it came to Gracie, he wanted more. He’d wanted her to at least stay the morning after, to talk to him and see if there was something between them. To give them a chance.
He hadn’t wanted to watch her run out of his bedroom like a bat out of hell, bruising his ego and making him feel that all too familiar sting of shame that he’d been judged yet again.
“It was wrong of me, I know that.” She wrung her hands, swallowing before she spoke again. “You deserve so much better.”
“Yes, I do.” He nodded, the chill in his tone deliberate and designed to push her away. “The ironic thing is you were worried that I would treat you like a one-night stand.”
She winced.
“And then you up and leave like we’d slept together just for the sake of it.” He could feel the rise of emotion within him, the quickening of his pulse, the heat that burned from his stomach and up into his chest. “I don’t fuck for the sake of it, Gracie.”
“I know.” She shook her head, her hair scattering around her shoulders. “I never thought it was gratuitous.”
“That’s because it wasn’t. I feel something for you, Gracie,” he growled, the words tumbling out uncensored. “And you threw it in my face like I was another one of your random dates.”
He’d hit his mark. The shocked ‘o’ on her lips and the flare of her nostrils told him the words had stung in just the right place. Damn it, but he wanted to hurt her. He wanted her to experience the pain he felt deep in his chest, the ache he’d felt ever since the first day she sauntered into his restaurant with another man on her arm.
She sucked in a slow, shaky breath. “That’s unfair.”
“Is it?” He threw his hands up. “You bring guy after guy to my restaurant. None of them are good enough. Why would I think I’m any different?”
“You are different, Des,” she whispered.
“Clearly not different enough. Seeing as you’re so fond of rules, I’ve got another one for you: Don’t call me.”
Oh, how he wanted to throw it all aside and sweep her up into his arms. He’d never fallen this hard for a girl before, not even for his ex-fiancée. But he couldn’t accept her apology. He’d made a promise to himself the last time this happened—he was never going to let himself be anyone’s consolation prize.
And until she realized that he was good enough for her, he could never be with Gracie Greene.
“I’m going to shower,” he announced. “And when I get out I expect you to be gone.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, wringing her hands. Part of him wanted to grab her and pull her close so he could kiss her concerns away. He felt more for Gracie than he had any other woman. She ignited him, stirred long-forgotten feelings. “If it means anything at all I… I like you. A lot.”
But it wasn’t to be.
“It doesn’t mean anything if you’re willing to let it go,” he said.
He stalked out of the room, each purposeful stride putting much needed distance between him and Gracie. He should have known this was coming. He did see it coming, but he’d been in denial. Blinded by lust and infatuation with a girl who was like a manifestation of his past.
Did he think that getting her to scream his name would be enough to break down her ideals? That a night of pleasure would undo the years of brainwashing from her parents?
Des turned on the shower and stepped in, letting the hot water pelt against him. He wanted to wash this morning from his memory and forget that he ever let Gracie under his skin. The muffled sound of the front door closing made him grit his teeth.
Damn it.
He thumped a fist against the hard tiles of the shower, wanting to divert the pain to something physical. He didn’t need another judgemental, spoiled little rich girl in his life. Been there, done that. Yet he couldn’t shake the empty ache in his chest knowing Gracie was gone.
And that she’d taken a piece of him with her.
Chapter Eight
Spring had given way to the first balmy days of summer, and Gracie embraced the change of season with gusto. She’d written to-do lists and ticked things off with an enthusiastic frequency. She’d made goals and set the wheels in motion to achieving them.
She’d deleted her online dating profile—make that profiles. Plural. She’d cancelled the email account she used specially for exchanging details with prospective dates. She’d even called the agency who ran the speed dating and singles networking events to ask that they remove her phone number from their records. When her cute new neighbor down the street had asked her out for a drink, she’d politely declined.
Gracie Greene had a new set of rules. Well, just one rule: Forget about dating.
Since Des had refused her apology—and refused her calls on the few times she’d mustered the courage to dial his number—she’d looked upon her situation with fresh eyes. She didn’t resent him. In fact, she was thankful he’d been able to shed light on the sort of person she’d become—one obsessed with artificial perfection.
Of course it had stung. She’d shed her fair share of tears in the days afterwards. But she understood. She’d rejected the one person who cared for her because of who she was. He wasn’t anything like the men who’d shown up to dates because she had a photogenic face and social pedigree. It had recently occurred to her that anyone with access to the internet would have been able to see her connection to the late and great Richard Greene, former head of surgery and namesake of the Greene wing at Melbourne Private.
Yet Des had liked her for nothing other than who she was and she’d thrown it away because she was worried her mother would look down her nose at him, and because she’d made a promise to her father that she’d never be able to keep.
But the fault was hers, and as part of her desire to let go of the pursuit of perfection, she was accepting responsibility…even if it meant going solo for a while.
A knock at her front door broke Gracie out of her reverie. Placing her coffee cup on the kitchen table, she abandoned her book and jogged on bare feet to see who it was. Sunlight streamed through the glass panels of her apartment’s entrance, flooding the front room with golden tones. Outside, a slender figure stood close to the door.
“Gracie?” Emmaline’s distinctive tone sounded as Gracie unlocked the door.
“Hey Ems—” She stopped short when she opened the door to the tear-stained face of her sister. Emmaline’s normally perfect blond hair was falling out of its ponytail, her cheeks were splotchy and pink. “What’s wrong?”
A sob wrenched from Emmaline’s throat. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand as more tears slid down her face. Her usual attire had been replaced with a baggy sweater and leggings, something Gracie hadn’t seen her in since living at home.
Enveloping her sister in a hug, she was about to close the door when a car pulled into the driveway. Gracie instantly recognized the silver Bentley as her mother’s. Gravel kicked up at the wheels as the car pulled to an abrupt stop in her driveway. Cecilia got out and slammed the door behind her. Her ankles wobbled on pencil-thin stilettos as she stalked up to where her daughters stood.
“Please leave!” Emmaline’s plea was high-pitched and desperate, drawing the attention of Gracie’s neighbor, who was pruning roses in his front yard.
“Get inside,” Cecilia hissed. “Don’t you dare cause a scene.”
“What on earth is going on?” Gracie looked from her sister to her mother and back again.
“It’s Conrad.” Emmaline’s chest heaved, the words catching in her throat. “He’s been cheating on me.”
“What?” Gracie blinked, stepping back to allow the two women through her front door.
She led Emmaline to the living room and set her down on the couch. There must be some mistake. There was no way Conrad would cheat on Ems. She was the most caring wife anyone could possibly have.
“He’s cheating on me, Gracie.” Emmaline’s breathing came in short bursts.
“Hey, hey.” Gracie rubbed her sister’s arms, her brows knitting together. “Don’t hyperventilate on me. Take it slow and tell me what happened.”
“Your sister is making a mountain out of a molehill. You shouldn’t encourage her, Gracelyn.” Cecilia huffed and dropped into a wingback chair, facing them. Her frail hands twisted in her lap, absently wrenching one of her bauble-like jewels around and around.
“I went to visit him at the office.” Emmaline heaved the words through sobs. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, as though she were staring directly at the scene she’d uncovered earlier. “And his secretary said he was out, so I let myself through to drop off his lunch, because he’d left it at home and I didn’t want him to go hungry—”
Of course she didn’t. Gracie sighed. Her sister was by far the sweetest, most selfless person she knew. Conrad had always seemed like the perfect choice for Emmaline, despite the fact that Gracie had never warmed to him. But he’d ticked all the boxes—wealthy and educated, ran his own optometry practice. He came from a high-class family.
Not that any of it mattered now. She was going to set Conrad straight when she saw him next…if she didn’t claw his face off first.
“—and then when I was dropping it off I noticed his car was still in the parking lot. I asked his secretary where he was and she said he was offsite, which didn’t sound right if his car was still there, but the receptionist is old and I thought maybe she was confused. I went to leave, and then I heard his voice coming from one of the exam rooms and I walked in on them.”
Gracie didn’t need to hear what was next, but she let Emmaline get it all out.
“He was in there—screwing the other optometrist right on the examination chair!”
Oh, no.
“You’re being ridiculous Emmaline.” Cecila threw her hands up in the air. “One indiscretion is not worth throwing away your marriage.”
Emmaline’s hands fluttered at her neck. She looked like a baby bird who’d been pushed out of the nest. “We took vows, Mother. Vows!”
“I’m so sorry.” Gracie stroked her sister arm. “I think you’re absolutely right to be upset. He should never have done that.”
“I’d had a funny feeling for a while, but I kept ignoring it thinking I was worrying for nothing. God knows how many times it’s happened before. He tried to tell me it was only this once but—”
“She wants to get a divorce, Gracelyn. A divorce.” Her mother said the word as though she were spitting out poison. “What will they say at church?”
Ah, that was why Cecilia followed Emmaline there. Only one member of the family had ever gotten divorced before—Cecilia’s older sister left her husband for the exact same reason Emmaline was at Gracie’s house now. Her mother had all but disowned their aunt, ostracized her from family functions because apparently she had brought shame to the family name.
Gracie drew in a deep, calming breath. She had to be strong for her sister. Fighting Cecilia’s out-dated views was not what she needed right now. She needed love and support, the two things their mother seemed unable to provide.
“Is there anything I can do?” Gracie asked.
“Can you wave a magic wand and take me back five years so I don’t marry that stupid son of a…well, Helena isn’t a b-word, but you know what I mean.” Even in her state of complete distress Emmaline couldn’t swear or even speak ill of her mother-in-law. “I can’t believe he would do this to me.”
The girls sat in silence.
“I can’t believe it, either,” Gracie whispered.
“You’re as bad as each other,” Cecilia crowed, her ice-blue eyes narrowed. “This is not worth ruining the Greene name for.”
“You know I only married him because you were determined that our families should join up.” Emmaline let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I didn’t love him, but I respected him. I respected what we committed to in getting married, and I never once even contemplated cheating on him. I guess it serves me right.”
“It’s not your fault, Ems. Don’t even try to blame yourself because he couldn’t be as good a person as you are.”
“Think about what’s important here.” Cecilia shook her head. “You know I’m never going to live this down if you file for divorce.”
“This isn’t about you.” Gracie couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Cecilia Greene’s face froze, her mouth hanging open, her eyes unblinking. It may have been the first time Gracie had ever seen her mother speechless.
The frustration from pushing Des away came tumbling out. In the clear light of day she saw how flawed her mother’s ideals were, how much she hurt her daughters with her refusal to let them live their own lives.
“Can’t you, for once, put your daughter before yourself?” Gracie slipped her hand into Emmaline’s. Her sister didn’t deserve this judgement when she wasn’t the one who’d broken her vows. “Your reputation is not worth destroying the happiness of your child.”
A smile wobbled on Emmaline’s lips. “Thanks, Gracie.”
“Our family name is important.” The fight left her mother’s body, her bony shoulders hunched forward and she seemed to shrink in front of Gracie’s eyes. “Your father gave us his name and I want to protect it. It’s all I have left of him.”
Gracie swallowed. Her whole life Cecilia Greene had been a force, an imposing woman that stood proudly by her husband’s side and led their family with an iron will and determination to rival any military leader. She’d been terrifying at times, hard and inflexible.
But her love for her husband could never be doubted. He’d been the only one who could soften those hard blue eyes, who could break through that tough outer shell. Grief had turned Gracie’s mother into a tougher, harder, more rigid version of herself.
“You have us,” Gracie said. “We miss him too, you know.”
Cecilia swallowed, anguish flashing across her face as fast as lightening before the mask returned. She folded her delicate hands neatly in her lap, lips pursed.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Mother.” Emmaline said, her voice shaking. “But I can’t go back to Conrad after this.”
“If you love them it hurts more when they leave.” The words came out so softly that Gracie wondered if she’d imagined them.
Cecilia stood and hesitated before turning on her heels and leaving the room without a backwards glance.
“I think she needed to hear that,” Gracie said, nodding as if to convince herself. She’d never stood up so openly to her mother before, and she had certainly never seen her mother react like that.
“I think so, too. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Emmaline frowned. “Is it okay if I stay here?”
“Of course.”
Emmaline sighed, rubbing her temples. “Smug bastard had the audacity to say that if I slept with him more then he wouldn’t have been forced to go elsewhere.”
“He did not.”
“Yep.” Her sister nodded. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get excited for a beer belly and unwieldy pubic hair.”
Gracie snorted and then cringed. She was tempted to call TMI on Emmaline, but the girl deserved her chance to vent now that their mother had left. She slung an arm around her sister’s shoulders and squeezed.
“You never know, Ems, this might turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“You think?” Emmaline raised a delicate, golden brow.
Hope shimmered in the depths of her eyes, and a tentative smiled tugged at her lips. If Gracie didn’t know any better she’d say that Emmaline was relieved to be rid of Conrad, despite the humiliation of finding him in the arms of another woman. Perhaps now she had the opportunity to write the life she wanted, one free of Cecilia Greene’s restraints.
“Yeah, I’m almost certain of it.” Gracie smiled. “Now you can find someone to love. Someone who has nice, neat pubic hair.”
“And abs.” Emmaline chuckled, wiping the leftover tears from her eyes. “I want abs, too.”
…
Saturday mornings at First were usually busy, thanks to their creative brunch menu, but the first balmy hint of summer heat had drawn even more people out of hibernation. Customers filled every inch of the restaurant. They occupied the wooden tables in the courtyard outside and lined the edges when there were no tables left.
Pride swelled in Des’s chest. Twelve months ago his restaurant was struggling to break even, but his perseverance and hard work paid off. When something felt right you had to go for it.
Hypocrite.
He frowned at the parallel his mind drew to his failed-before-it-started relationship with Gracie. Since the night they’d slept together, his stomach churned constantly. He couldn’t erase the image of her standing in his lounge room, guilt painted all over her face.
But she’d apologized for the way she treated him, not for the reason behind it. And that reasoning was precisely his concern. Sure, she’d had sex with him without knowing whether it would lead to anything. That he could handle, but the fact that she threw the towel in because her family would think him a poor choice… Well, that cut to the bone.
