Page 33 of Mace

I shrugged. “It has its drawbacks, but I like it.”

“Well,” he drawled as he stood. “figure out when you can sneak away for a couple of days and let me know.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

Mace shook his head. “You aren’t going without me, babe. You have to do this because of me, so I’ll be there to help.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I insisted. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go when I visited my grandma, and I wasn’t sure I wanted Mace there for it.

“You’re not going to San Diego alone, Imogen,” he insisted.

I quirked my eyebrow. “Um, I have made that trip myself before, Mace. I’ll be fine.” Sure, it had been a while since I had visited my grandma, but I couldn’t even count how many times I had made the drive to and from San Diego.

“That’s fine, but you won’t do it again by yourself, Imogen. Let me know when you want to leave, and I’ll be here. You’re not going to fight me on this.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Oh, really? I seem to have survived the past fifteen years without you.”

“Yeah, but if I could go back and do the past fifteen years over, babe, things would be a lot different.”

“Different how?” I asked. “I love the life I have, Mace.”

“I’m sure you do, babe.” He stood and looked down at me. “I would just make myself a part of it.” He cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over my lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, babe. Get some sleep.”

“Uh, well.” I couldn’t think with Mace touching me. I hadn’t felt his touch for fifteen years, and it sent a shock through my body each time he was near.

His hand left my face. “Bye.”

“Bye-bye,” I whispered.

A smirk crossed his lips, and he shook his head. “You’re a goof, Imogen. That never changed.” He moved out the door, and I listened to his footsteps patter down the stairs.

I flopped back into the couch and covered my head with my hands. “Ahh,” I moaned.

What in the world was going on?

How did this happen?

I was happy living my life, and suddenly everything was turned upside down.

“Girl,” Dorothy hollered from the bottom of the stairs. “I’m taking off. Do you need me to come up there while you have a nervous breakdown and stress over everything that happened today?”

“I’m not going to have a nervous breakdown,” I called. I was already in the middle of one.

“Try not to talk yourself out of being with that hot biker, Imogen.”

“I’m not with him,” I retorted.

“Yet,” Dorothy cackled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bye.”

“You mean bye-bye?” she laughed.

I got up and listened to Dorothy lock the front door. I turned off the stairway light and closed my door.

Most would be freaked out living above a funeral home, but I liked it. It was quiet and peaceful.

It was exceptionally quiet after having half of Mace’s motorcycle club hanging out.

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