Page 76 of Grace on the Rocks

He shook his head. “Wedidn’t work as hard today.Nothard enough to tire me out.”Helifted the kettle to offer her a cup, and she nodded, though she’d already drunk enough to flood the ocean.

“You’ve done an incredible job,” she told him, her stomach doing annoying things when he allowed his back to straighten and a tiny smile of pride to tug his lips.

“Thanks.Andyou?”

“Oh,Ididn’t do much,” she said, simultaneously proud of her help with the roof and the wall destruction, but also ashamed that she hadn’t done more like their bargain had stipulated.

“I… meant your… writing?”

“Oh.”Hercheeks burned. “Metoo.Ididn’t do much.Justa few thousand words.”

“How many do you lack?”

“Maybe twenty?Anotherweek andIshould have the ending.IfIcan figure out how it ends.”

His eyes widened. “Youdon’t already know?”

“I knowwhathappens.Broadly.Ijust don’t quite know how we get there.Yet.”

“If only you could take a holiday…”

Grace leaned back against the wall beam. “Iknow.Ishould be enjoying my time here.Iamenjoying it.I’venever seen a more beautiful place.”

Bryan turned back to prepare the mugs of tea.Sheliked the way he made a ritual of it: measuring out loose tea into little beehive-patterned metal steepers, adding a dash of milk and honey to each cup.

When he handed the mug over, his fingers brushed against the inside of her palm.Wasit his touch that singed her, or the tea?

“Careful,” he growled.Then, “Youshould come out tomorrow.It’sthe midsummer ceilidh everyone’s been on about.Tomark the end of all this festival nonsense.”

“Sounds…”Honestlyit sounded liked like a big noisy, sweaty, chaos party.Notthat she had much experience with parties. “Loud,” she finally settled on.

“Oh aye.Quitethe stramash, if tales of years past are any indication.”

“Yikes.”Stramashsounded a bit scary, if she was being honest, except for the way it slid silkily off his tongue.

And now she was thinking about his tongue again, and how somewhere along the lines, his beard had gone from reminding her of a dangerous, spiky stinger to instead the soft, fuzzy butt of a bumble bee.

“Torture,” he agreed. “Pleasecome.”

And why did she likethosewords from theStoicScot’slips quite so much?

“With an invitation like that, who could refuse?” she asked, a little breathless.

“Everyone should experience a ceilidh once in their life.”

“I don’t know how to dance,” she protested, peering into her tea and taking tiny sips to keep from scalding her tongue. “AndIdidn’t bring a dress.”

“Come as you are, as long as you come.”

And there were those words again, he was practically begging.OMGGracie, settle down.

“What’s in it for you?” she couldn’t help asking.Afterkissing and then disappearing on him, she couldn’t imagine he thought of her as very good company.

He studied her intently for a moment before looking away. “WesleyandEòghannobviously fancy each other.Butshe won’t let herself enjoy it if she imagines you’re miserable at home.”

“You think?”Graceasked, but she knew he was right.Whenhe didn’t answer, she said, “I’llconsider it,” but she already knew she was going to concede.

He nodded pensively, then stared into his own tea.

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