“She’s going to have her hands full with Dylan.” Tanya accepted the brunt of Clayton’s weight from the bartender. “And he’s going her way. You’ll just have to put up with some TLC from plain little ol’ me instead of the love of your life.”

“I can take care of myself.” He failed to evade the grasp of a dynamo half his size.

“I’ll just push you out of the car when we get to your driveway.”

Their bickering carried through the night air until two car doors slammed, one after the other.

“And as for you...” Guidry turned to Dylan.

He raised his hands to ward off a lecture. “I can drive. I only had two beers.”

“Then what’s your excuse for trashing my bar?” The man could have squashed him on the sidewalk like a bug, and he looked like he might be thinking about doing it, too.

“No excuse.” Dylan pushed his hair off his forehead and winced. He couldn’t tell which hurt worse—his nose, ribs, or hand. “I didn’t know how drunk he was or that he has such a short fuse, but it shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”

Guidry crossed his immense arms and looked even more threatening. “Who’s going to pay for the damage?”

“Surely you have insurance,” Gracie said, stepping between them. “You shouldn’t expect—”

Dylan’s tolerance for her interference snapped. “Stay out of this, Gracie. I don’t need your help.”

Damn, the pain in her eyes dulled their sparkle. He hated knowing he’d caused that.

“Oh. Well. Excuse me.” Physically, she turned her back on him. Emotionally, she moved a million miles away.

He doubted if slashing her with a knife would have wounded her more. “Gracie...”

Dropping her chin, she dug around inside her purse. With Guidry waiting for a reckoning, Dylan postponed his apology to Gracie until later.

“I’ll have my assistant call you about the bill in the morning,” he told Guidry.

A grunt was all the appreciation the offer received. “Stay out of my bar until I get the money.”

“‘Night, Guidry,” Gracie said.

“You gonna be around next Saturday for Marley’s wedding?” he asked as she turned to leave.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss your kid sister’s wedding for anything. I still can’t believe the little squirt’s getting married.”

“Tell me about it. She’s twenty-two now, with a degree in marine biology.”

 “Amazing. And to think I used to babysit her.” Gracie shook her head. “Tell Aunt Betty I’m available if they need help at the church or the reception hall next week.”

“Will do.” The bartender disappeared through the door, leaving Gracie and Dylan alone on the sidewalk.

Her features sharpened with disdain. “Can you drive?” She’d withdrawn into someone cold and aloof. Someone very unlike the real Gracie.

“Sure.” He made a heroic effort not to whimper.

She waited beside him as he hauled himself into the Navigator. His ribs protested the effort. Under the streetlight, he noticed the wet spot on the front of her blouse. If it wouldn’t hurt his face to do it, he’d grin. “Somebody spill a drink on you?”

She looked down and wrinkled her nose as she sniffed. “Smells like beer.”

He turned on the motor and leaned out to close the door. Pain shot through his side, taking his breath away. He hugged his rib cage, closed his eyes, and waited for the ache to subside.

When his breath returned to his lungs, he opened his eyes. Gracie lingered beside him. Although she kept her hands clasped, he could see them twitching with the instinct to offer assistance. One moment of silence stretched into two.

Gracie moved to close the car door. “See you later, then.”

A tough as nails stance was all well and good, but what was the point if it meant going home alone? She remained by the Navigator waiting for him to drive away, but he couldn’t do it. None of his extremities would do as they were told. Well, hell, if she wanted to help, he’d let her.

He powered down the window. “All right, you win,” he said as if she’d been haranguing him for hours. “You can drive me home if you really want to. My car or yours?”

“Yours.” She tried to hide her smug smile, but he spotted it.

His ribs seriously protested the effort required in switching seats. Pulling shallow breaths into his lungs, he closed his eyes and reclined the passenger seat while Gracie slid behind the wheel.

“That was a pretty stupid display,” she said after a few miles of silence.

“I know.” He winced as she plowed through a three-foot-wide pothole instead of going around it.

“You were spoiling for a fight when you got to McStone’s, weren’t you?”

“Yep.” Monosyllables were about all his split lip could handle. He inventoried his teeth with his tongue.

His ribs protested when she turned off the paved highway onto the rutted road leading to Liberty House. He could have sworn the Navigator had better shocks than this.

After a few excruciating minutes, she pulled to a stop. He considered getting out of the vehicle, but wasn’t sure he could. He lifted one eyelid to see what mischief Gracie was up to. She didn’t normally remain quiet for long.

She peered at him from mere inches away, assessing the damage to his face. She bit her lower lip and let one gentle finger tug at his split and swollen one, then tilted his head toward the light. “It’s probably not as bad as it looks.”

He removed his chin from her grasp. He wanted her to touch him with passion, not clinical detachment.

She invaded his space once again to unhook his seat belt. The fall of her silky hair brushed his shoulder. The scent of coconut shampoo wafted toward him. He inhaled deeply, groaning when pain knifed through him.

Gracie’s hand joined his on his rib cage. Her look of concern indicated she intended to poke and prod and ask him if it hurt when she pressed against him there.

“I’m not a patient.” He swooped in to stop her protest with a kiss.

At the same moment, she lifted her head and bumped his lip. Ouch! He ignored the pain and angled for better position. Just a brush of lips at first, then he sent out his tongue to lick her. He pulled her more closely to him, opening his mouth over hers.

Oddly, she tasted metallic, almost coppery. Like blood.

Shit, no. That was him. “Damn.”

Gracie tried to duck behind medical neutrality, but her voice quavered as she spoke. “You should have that looked at.”

Dylan fished a napkin out of the glove box. “Tomorrow,” he said, promising himself that’s when he’d pick up where they’d left off.

He yanked on the door handle and got out with careful execution.

She came up beside him. “You might have a broken rib or two.”

“I can manage.” He waved her off and evaded the hand she tried to hook through his arm.

It took him about ten minutes to get from the car to his room. It took him most of the night to vanquish his inappropriate thoughts of Gracie.

Chapter Fourteen

Gracie pressed her ear against the door to Dylan’s room.

Silence. Absolute silence swirled around on the other side. She tapped a brisk, business-like tattoo on the hardwood.

More silence.

She chewed her lip, considering her choices. Should she barge in or not? She’d give anything to avoid seeing him, but hanging the new window treatment in his room was the last of the chores on Granddad’s list, and she wanted to be finished this morning. In two hours, Gran needed her to come to the hospital to help transport Granddad home. After that, she was scheduled to fill in for Gran, taking care of the final ice cream production for the festival.

She hadn’t seen Dylan since he’d limped into the house like the walking wounded last night. He’d made it very clear outside McStone’s, and then again outside the house, that he didn’t want her help. Even if he had deigned to let her drive him home.

She knocked again and took a deep breath. Now or never.