Page 10 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell (Rock Canyon, Idaho 7)

Gracie would have been suspicious of his sweetness if his embrace didn’t feel so damn good.

She pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I keep crying all over your shirt.”

“I really don’t mind, Gracie Lou.” His gaze locked on hers, sending her heart pounding into overdrive at the warmth in his dark eyes. “You should know that I’d do just about anything for you.”

* * *

Shit! Fuck! Fuckity shit fuck!

Why in the hell had he said that to her? This wasn’t the time for confessions. Her best friend was sick. Hell, she had a boyfriend. And Eric was over her.

The air around them was so charged, he could practically see the sparks. The only thing that saved him from making a bigger ass of himself and kissing her was the blast of her cell phone.

She broke their eye contact to rummage around in her purse for her phone. When the phone was free from the confines of her purse, he realized what the song was and made a face.

“‘I Melt’? Really?”

Gracie blushed. “It’s Darrin, and I happen to like this song.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she answered the call. “Hey sweetie.”

Eric turned in his seat and started the car. It took all he had not to gun the engine; good old Darrin probably drove a Prius.

“Yeah, Gemma had to go to the hospital. They think she might be developing preeclampsia, so they’re watching her overnight.” Gracie cleared her throat. “No, it’s fine. I understand it was a lot to ask. Yeah, I’ll see you later. Okay, bye.”

Eric kept his hands on the wheel, determined not to say anything else. He just lost his head whenever he was around her. Gracie didn’t speak either, and the only sound was the windshield wipers as it removed the snowflakes falling faster and faster.

When he pulled up behind her car thirty minutes later, she finally said, “Thank you for driving me to the hospital and everything. I forget sometimes that you can be nice.”

The teasing fell flat, though, and he just nodded.

“Bye, then.”

She seemed to be waiting for something, but hell if he knew what she wanted. “Later.”

When she huffed, he turned to look at her, only she was already slamming out of his car. “Whatever.”

Whatever?

He let her go, a dark cloud settling over him. He needed to get over this infatuation with Gracie McAllister. He just had no idea how to quit her.

He pulled out of the driveway and headed home. His younger brother, Grant, and the rest of the staff had everything under control at Buck’s Shot Bar tonight, and his dad had grabbed his mom from Gemma’s when he’d taken off with Gracie. He’d have to call them and let them know Gemma was going to be okay.

They had mentioned they’d be headed to Jackpot after the shower. His parents might be in their late sixties, early seventies, but they acted like a couple of kids together. Still in love after all this time. And best friends.

If he ever settled down, that was what he wanted. A friend he couldn’t wait to see every day, who, even if he was pissed at her, was still his favorite person.

He hadn’t found her yet, but he wasn’t in a hurry either. He was only thirty-six. His uncle didn’t get married and have kids until he was almost fifty.

Eric pulled into his driveway a few minutes later and parked his car in the garage. It was detached, since he’d bought his land first, then his twenty-year-old modular once the land and the utilities were installed. He’d paid cash for his home, and then updated it room by room. Hardwood floors. New sheet rock and insulation in the walls. His place had been his project, and he was proud of it.

The snow falling obscured the view of the Sawtooth Mountains and the Snake River Canyon. He’d financed the 5.7 acres when he was twenty-four, and he’d never regretted it. On top of having a fantastic view, it was secluded, away from the bustle of town. God knew he got enough of people at the bar; the last thing he wanted was close neighbors.

He stomped his boots on the welcome mat and walked inside. The first thing he did was start to call out to Bones, his Rottweiler-pit bull mix, but then he remembered that Bones was gone. He’d had to put him down the week before; he’d come home to find Bones on the floor, unable to move. He’d called Rock Canyon Veterinary Hospital, and they’d thought he’d probably had a stroke. Eric had petted his head and bawled like a baby as he’d said good-bye to his best friend.

Clearing his throat past the lump that had formed, Eric grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled in front of the TV, stopping on a Sons of Anarchy rerun. In a little while, he’d make dinner, maybe call some of his friends and see if they were up for a game of poker.

Not much of a rockin’ Saturday night.

Chapter Four

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