Page 61 of You Complicate Me

“Of course I’ll talk to her.” She swallowed the lump of foreboding that wedged itself into her throat and studiously ignored the Star Trek red alert siren blaring in her brain. “I’m sure she’s just working through some last-minute jitters.”

Or some last-minute second thoughts caused by her attraction to the groom’s cousin, the little devil on Grace’s shoulder muttered.

Suck it up and do whatever you can to help, the little angel on Grace’s other shoulder replied.

Squaring both shoulders and taking a deep breath, Grace gave Nick what she hoped was a comforting smile and turned away. But he stopped her by grabbing the hand she’d raised to knock on Sadie’s door. “Grace, I, uh, I wasn’t only coming to find you to talk to Sadie for me. I also wanted to tell you that I, uh…well, that is to say that I…”

She frowned up at him. Wow, he suddenly really looked awful. Kind of sweaty and nervous. Maybe a little nauseous. And his hand was clammy. Nick wasn’t the kind of guy who was ever clammy. “What’s wrong?”

He opened his mouth and it looked like he wanted to say something, but no words escaped. It felt kind of like she was standing in front of Edvard Munch’s The Scream. Grace tightened her grip on his clammy hand and said, “Okay, now you’re scaring me. What’s going on, Nick? What did you need to tell me?”

Instead of answering, he kissed her again. And this kiss was…different than any they’d ever shared. Usually, their kisses were all clashing tongues and teeth, dripping in need, like they were trying to crawl inside each other because that was the only way they’d ever get close enough. But this kiss was slow, deep, sensual. He was trying to tell her something with this kiss—something he couldn’t find the words to express.

Grace had no idea what he was trying to say, but she liked it. A lot.

Finally, when they broke apart, gasping for breath, Nick laid his forehead against hers. A muscle in his jaw jumped, letting Grace know Nick still had something else to say. But the way their last kissing-in-lieu-of-actual-words experiment had gone, Grace wasn’t sure she could afford to let him express himself again. As a lawyer, she didn’t think an indecent exposure charge would exactly help her career in any way.

She gave him one last kiss—a super-quick one, lest she get sucked into his sexual vortex again—before pulling away and offering him another smile. “We’ll talk later?”

He huffed out an exasperated breath and shoved a hand through his hair before giving her a terse nod. “Yeah. Later.”

If she only had the terrified look on his face to go by, Grace wasn’t sure talking was a good idea at all. But the way her luck was running today, she could bet that whatever Nick’s problem was, it was complicated.

Chapter Thirty-two

“Ladies’ golf is manlier than what I just saw you do, boy.”

Nick looked over, then down—way, way down—to find the source of the disgusted, three-packs-a-day voice. “Lovely to see you, too, Ruthie,” he managed to spit out through gritted teeth.

She sniffed and adjusted the wilted corsage that was pinned to the lapel of her cotton-candy pink dress suit. The color of the dress in combination with her blue curls and the oddly shaped, eggplant-colored hat she wore was jarring. The old lady looked a little like the circus had puked all over her.

Ruthie sat up straighter in her wheelchair and frowned at him. “You know, I was married to my Earl for forty-two years. He died years ago. Massive heart attack.”

If this was a tell-the-people-you-love-that-you-love-them-before-they-up-and-die-on-you speech, Nick didn’t really want to hear it. He knew he’d wussed out just now when he’d tried to tell Grace he loved her. He knew he still needed to tell her. And he would. Eventually.

Just as soon as he could seem to force the words past his uncooperative tongue, which for some reason, went into a coma when he was trying to say “I love you” to Grace.

He’d tried to tell her. He truly had. But it wasn’t as easy as people in romantic comedies made it look. Nick had never told anyone he loved them, other than his sister, of course. Those words…they weren’t just words to him. He knew he felt them, but voicing them was an entirely different animal.

That’s when he noticed Ruthie was still looking up at him expectantly. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Nick murmured when it became apparent that the old woman had no intention of going away anytime soon.

She snorted. “There was no loss. He was a total bastard. A mean drunk who beat me every chance he got and a gambler who lost most of our life savings at the craps tables in Atlantic City. If it weren’t for my bad back, I would’ve done a jig of pure glee on that old fucker’s grave when he finally kicked. If there’s any justice in this world, he’s roasting on a spit in hell right now.”

Well, that was a bit of a conversation stopper, now wasn’t it? Nick had no idea how to respond, so…he didn’t.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” she went on. “You’re thinking I’m exaggerating, or that maybe he was only horrible because I’m such a bitter old hag.”

If the shoe fits…

Her lip curled as she stared up at him. “That’s where you’re supposed to disagree and say something nice about me, Irish. I thought your people at least had charm going for them.”

His brain panicked again for a second, groping for something nice to say about Ruthie and coming up black-hole empty. Literally nothing nice came to mind. She was mean and spiteful and bigoted. She also seemed to take pleasure—giddy joy, really—in the suffering of others. Nope. He had nothing.

Ruthie rolled her eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself there, pretty boy. No need to try and think. I can practically smell the burning rubber. I know I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine, but that wasn’t always the case. I was a good wife. Just the kind of wife Earl wanted. Soft-spoken. Always had dinner on the table at six when he got home. Accepted his apology gracefully when he knocked me down two flights of stairs because I’d forgotten to pick up his dry cleaning.”

Great. Now he was pissed at himself for failing to tell Grace how he felt and hating himself for not being able to offer Ruthie any kind words. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, ma’am.”

She leaned forward and swatted him in the stomach with the back of her hand. “Aren’t you listening at all? I’m not sorry I had to go through that! Going through all that made me who I am today. And who I am today is an old lady who wouldn’t ever let a man treat her like dirt again. I’m an old lady who says exactly what she wants whenever she wants. When I hate someone, I tell ‘em. And when I love someone, well, that doesn’t happen as often, but I tell ‘em that, too. You won’t find me falling apart, sweating like a pig, unable to say ‘I love you’ to the best thing I’ll ever find in my lifetime. Life’s too short for that shit.”

---