Page 73 of Grace on the Rocks

Instead,Bryanset his jaw and turned his back, loading the debris into a wheelbarrow.

SoGraceleft them to it and returned to her room, whereWeswas getting ready to go out for the day.

“A piñata,”Gracetold her friend before she could talk herself out of it.

“A piñata?”

“For my birthday.”

“Ohhh,”Wespractically squealed. “Ican do that.Whatshape?Filledwith candy or tiny bottles of booze?Or… condoms?” she added as an afterthought, because she wasWes.

“I don’t care.Ijust want something it’s socially acceptable to beat the crap out of with a really big stick.”

Wesley’s eyebrows shot up in surprised delight.

“I knocked down a wall,”Graceexplained.

“You sure did.”

“And it felt fucking amazing.”

A huge grin spread acrossWesley’sface. “I’llget you a million piñatas,” she promised.

ChapterEighteen

Of course there had been an audience when the wall fell, like theBarrabeach wasEast-Fucking-Berlin.Exceptjudging by their reactions, that would make the townspeople communist sympathizers.

Bryan hadn’t been totally surprised to see the crowd gathered out back, not with the noise of his demolition probably echoing across the whole island.Buthe was a bit shocked by the power with whichGracehad wielded the hammer.

It would have turned him on, if not for the fear she was picturing his face on the living room wall as she absolutely crushed it.Hehad almost said something trite like,Remindme not to get on your bad side, just to goad her into admitting he already was, but then the neighbors started in on him andLùc, andGraciela-Fucking-Riosturned around and stalked back to her room, slamming the door hard enough to snap the hinges.

Lùcas also looked like he wanted to mutiny.

“That went well,Ithink,”Bryanquipped for something to say.

“You realize if they run us off the island,I’mgoing to have to stay with you,”Lùcsaid darkly. “Haven’tgot any skills besides defacing public property.”

“Was it you graffitied the back of your da’s shed?”

His cousin’s glower was answer enough.

“Come on.”Bryanclapped him on the shoulder. “Helpme hang these tarps.We’llcheck in with your da about the windows and thenI’lltreat you to a pint.

“It’s half nine!”

“A fry-up, then.Moveyour arse.”

* * *

They tooktheir time fixing the tarps in place.Whetherit was becauseLùcaspreferred a pint to breakfast or because he didn’t want to ask his father about the windows,Bryanwasn’t sure.Gracedidn’t emerge from her room the entire time, not even to yell at them to quiet down.Onthe one hand, a fellow couldn’t really complain about not being shouted at.Onthe other hand, it gaveBryanfar too much time to overthink everything.

Had it been the kissing she objected to?He’dasked permission first, and she’d seemed keen, seemed to enjoy herself right up until she suddenly didn’t.

Was it when he sucked on her bottom lip that sent her running?Beforeor after he buried his face in the valley where her shoulder ended and her neck began?Kissingher there was an excuse to discern the components of her shampoo like he would a fine whisky, losing himself completely in notes of jasmine and peach and something else entirely, something pureGrace.

In a moment straight from an adolescent daydream, she ran her hand roughly down his crotch and his mind went fairly blank.Bythe time he caught up again, she was apparently menstruating and he had been relegated to the doghouse.

At six a.m. on the dot, he’d driven straight to the market on the other side of the island, only hesitating when he realized it was his own mother flipping the sign fromclosedtoopen.Thenhe’d screwed up his courage and gone inside anyway.

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