An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(91)

Grace fisted her hands together at her stomach, as the storm battled overhead. “No,” she said finally. “Sorry.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m just being— Forgive me; it’s the storm making me jumpy.”

Caleb smiled small. “No worries. I get it.” He reattached his radio and turned on his flashlight, as he cleared his throat. “Let’s find that fuse box, huh?”

After an hour’s search, Caleb managed to locate Grace’s fuse box and had the power back on before he left. Apparently, despite the extensive work that had taken place, her house’s electrics were still touchy about thunder and lightning. Caleb had left soon after and was, as always, polite and gracious. Grace couldn’t deny that she felt a tad silly for reacting the way she had with him, but, as Nina had explained, even though she was making positive steps with men in some ways, in others it would still take time.

By noon the following day, the rain had eased and the cracks of thunder had lessened to sporadic rumbles that rolled up and over the mountains. The storm had eased for the most part the horrendous humidity that had smothered the town for days, and Grace didn’t hesitate in throwing on her running gear and setting off toward the cottage, along the well-worn track she and Max took daily, and back into town to grab her latte and muffin. The forecast for the evening was much the same, so Grace wasn’t planning to dally about.

“Hey, Grace!” Ruby stood at her shop door waving and smiling. “Good to see you survived last night.”

Grace jogged over, sidestepping the huge puddles that had gathered. “Just. You?”

“Yeah, I’m just checking that my business is still here and hasn’t floated away.” She laughed.

Grace smiled. “Hey, did your power go out?” Ruby shook her head. “Mine did. Caleb had to fix it.”

“Lord. I’m glad he was there to help. Was Max not around?”

Grace frowned. “He’s in Philly.”

Ruby’s smile faltered. “No, they . . . they got back last night. Maybe eight o’clock. Did Max not call? Josh said they decided to risk the weather and head back. I’m glad they did. It was so nice having him in bed last night. I hate storms.”

Grace exhaled, a strange, heavy sensation twisting up her back. “I didn’t know.” She shooed the feeling away with a roll of her shoulders. “He was probably exhausted. I’ll call him later.” Her eyes found the sky. “Before the next heavyweight bout.”

She said her good-byes, called in at the coffee shop, buying Max’s regular order as well as her own, and set off toward the boardinghouse. Excitement swelled in her stomach as she climbed the stairs and wandered down the hallway to his door. She knocked twice, hearing him call out before his heavy footsteps approached. She smiled when the lock slid back and it grew as the door opened and revealed him. He was bare-chested, in a pair of worn jeans with nothing on his feet. His hair was chaotic and he hadn’t shaved in at least a few days. He was beautiful.

“Hey!” Grace tried her best to curtail her happiness at seeing him, but her high-pitched voice gave her away. “Welcome back.” She lifted her offerings to him and it was then that she noticed his expression.

His eyes were so dark they looked flat black. The warm Hershey’s Kiss she loved so much was but a faint memory against the intense obsidian glare that greeted her. A muscle in his jaw ticked, while his lips pressed into a flat line that she’d only seen once before: the night he’d gotten drunk at Whiskey’s.

She dropped her hands slowly, her smile with it. “You okay?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Fine.”

The word was curt, cold, and made Grace flinch. Her stare flittered around his face, trying to see past his anger. And he was angry; it surged off him. “You don’t seem okay.”

He huffed a laugh that reeked of sarcasm and rubbed a hand across his chin. His other gripped the door handle so hard his knuckles whitened. “What do you want?”

Grace’s breath caught. He’d never spoken to her that way before. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you want? Why are you here?” His nostrils flared and his stare flashed heatedly.

Grace was mystified. “I’m here because . . . I wanted to see you and . . . give you these. I’d have come sooner but I didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Annoyance and confusion pushed her words out. “What’s wrong with you? What happened?”

Max sighed heavily and glared at a point over her head. “Nothin’. Look, I’ve got shit to do. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Max, wait.” Her plea was met with the sound of the door slamming shut. She knocked again, her knuckles smarting with the force, and called his name twice, but there was no reply. “What the hell?” She remained standing in the hallway, lost and perplexed for what felt like hours before she left his coffee and muffin at the door and made her way back home, where she clambered into bed and tried her damnedest not to cry.





Grace rolled over in bed as lightning filled the room. The rain was still falling heavily, the sound like pebbles smacking the window, while the sky continued to complain and snarl every few minutes, as though it were as pissed-off as she was. It was warm again; that horrid, sticky warm that makes fabric stick to your skin like Velcro, and Grace suspected the worst of it was yet to come. She’d been awake for a while, tossing and turning with every bump of the clouds, with Max’s irate face flashing behind her eyelids.