Page 11 of Save Me the Trouble (Country Love Collection #12)
Chapter Seven
Killian
T he office was still, the only sound the soft tick of the clock on the wall. In a blink, another day had stretched into night.
I’d finished reviewing the last contract in my inbox a few minutes ago, my iPad screen nothing more than an ambient glow on my lap, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I didn’t want to disturb the woman who was currently asleep on the opposite side of the leather couch in my private office.
I didn’t want to give her a reason to leave.
Grace looked peaceful. Her hair spilled over her shoulder, a strand caught against her cheek and blowing softly with her breath.
We’d been at it all day. A volley of questions like an hours-long game that had been going on for days.
She asked about anything and everything.
Food preferences. Favorite TV shows. If I could go anywhere, do anything—spoiler alert: I already could, I just…
didn’t. I just worked and worked and worked, following the path of my business-like bricks on the road and ignoring the way I had to grind up my personal life into dust in order to fit between the slabs.
And Grace…she worked hard, too. She worked with the same kind of drive that I recognized: one that was trying to prove a past failure didn’t define her.
Not that I’d succeeded at believing that for myself, but just because I hadn’t cured the illness of guilt didn’t mean I didn’t recognize the symptoms.
However, no matter how hard I tried, what questions I asked, I still had no idea what had happened. And part of me wished that didn’t bother me like it did.
Rising, I went to the couch and gently touched her shoulder. “Grace.”
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and for a moment, she looked at me with such vulnerability it made my chest tighten. Then, as reality seeped back in, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” she began and sat, but I cut her off with a small smile.
“It’s okay. I should’ve let you go sooner.” I couldn’t stop myself from bending down, the back of my knuckle skating along her cheek to move the lock of hair from her face.
She trembled, and her eyes fluttered up to mine.
As the days went on, I found myself wanting to be around her more and more. I found myself hoping for her with every knock on my door in the morning, and then once she was here, counting the minutes after each meeting until we were alone again.
“I didn’t want to go sooner,” she murmured groggily and then stilled, realizing what she’d admitted to. There was a pause, a silence weighted with the shroud of heat that never seemed to leave us.
“Grace…”
“What got you into photography?” Her chin jerked to one of my photographs on the wall, grasping for a change of topic.
The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure how to answer— wasn’t sure I wanted to answer.
I hadn’t talked about this in years. Not the details.
But something about the way she asked—the way she looked at me—made me want to tell her.
Everyone else, they asked questions about me to find a way into my life.
Into my billions. But Grace…she was on her way out, so when the question came from her, it was as though she was begging for a reason to stay.
I straightened and walked over to the photograph next to the window.
“I started after I lost everything,” I began, my voice quiet.
“I was young and stupid. I’d just inherited everything from my father, and I felt like I had something to prove.
” I cleared my throat. “I’m sure you’ve heard that part of the story. ”
“Not from you.”
My head turned, catching her gaze in the window, watching her stand and take a few hesitant steps toward me.
“My father had just passed. We didn’t have the best relationship, but still, his death hit me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I was always carefree. A little reckless.
And with enough of a chip on my shoulder to earn me the reputation of being an asshole.
One night, I was at a high-stakes poker game.
One of the players…he’d been taunting me all night.
He didn’t like my father either, but he kept making jab after jab and then started claiming I didn’t have the balls to run the company.
That I was too weak. I wasn’t in a good place, and I let what he said get to me.
I bet everything. My whole inheritance. And I lost it all. ”
Grace’s expression softened.
“The first person I told was my grandmother. She was still on the board for the company, and she had the final vote that would decide if I was going to take over the company. So, she had to know what happened.” I forced myself to swallow.
“I told her I clearly wasn’t ready. That maybe all the doubts my father had about me were right. ”
“Killian…”
“My grandmother…she didn’t yell. She didn’t get upset.
She told me to put my shoes back on and then took me to Kerry Park.
” I paused, the memory of that day still vivid in my mind.
“We sat there for hours, just watching the birds. The butterflies. I couldn’t figure out what she was trying to do.
Finally, she turned to me and said that I had her vote.
I was…in shock. I didn’t understand why; I’d just blown billions of dollars in a single card game. ”
“What did she say?” Grace asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“She told me that life is about perspective. That to the caterpillar, his cocoon might seem like an end. A proverbial digging of his own grave. But to us, we know the cocoon is essential to growth. That it’s not an end but the path to a new beginning.”
Grace silently moved closer, absorbing my words until we stood shoulder to shoulder.
“Yes, I’d lost a ton of money in the blink of an eye, but I’d also been willing to take a risk.
And when that risk hadn’t gone as planned, I’d owned up to the mistake when I’d failed,” I said, smiling at the memory of my grandmother’s calm, steady voice.
“She said that being willing to take risks…and being humble enough to apologize when a mistake was made were two of the most important qualities of a leader, and she wasn’t sure I had them… until that moment.”
I adjusted the frame on the wall and then faced her. “She told me that what I thought was my end was instead the start of a very different beginning.” There was more to it—more to the loss than the money, but that was something I wasn’t ready to share.
“So, your grandmother gave you her vote, and you took over the company,” Grace murmured.
“I like to think my determination is my greatest strength,” I said and glanced out the window as a flash of lightning descended toward the horizon.
“What about your greatest weakness?”
I met her eyes again. The room seemed to shrink around us, the space between us crackling with an energy I could no longer ignore.
“I used to think they were both the same,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
Her breath caught, and I saw her eyes widen just a fraction. She was trying to keep things professional, to maintain that barrier between us, but I could feel it weakening.
“What changed?”
I leaned in closer, so close I could feel her breath against my skin. The pull between us was magnetic, irresistible.
“You.” The single word hung in the air between us like a bomb attached to a balloon.
We were on the edge of something dangerous, something that could change everything.
But maybe I wanted it to change everything.
I reached out, my hand hovering just above her cheek, and then my fingers found her skin.
I traced the swell of her cheek, the curve of her jaw, and then captured her chin, lifting her face until there was almost nothing between our lips.
I was going to kiss her. I needed to kiss her. Again.
“I want you,” I murmured.
She stared at me for a long second, and then her eyes fluttered shut, a silent surrender to the desire neither of us could ignore. My lips lowered to hers, just barely tasting the familiar softness of her mouth, when a sudden boom of thunder shook the entire room.
The moment shattered, and she jolted away.
Grace blinked, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. “I can’t—not again,” she said, her voice shaky as her eyes darted around, searching for her things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My mind raced, watching as she grabbed her bag and scrambled from the room. There was so much I wanted to say, but the words were stuck in my throat. She hesitated at the door, glancing back at me one last time before slipping out.
As the outer door to my office clicked shut behind her, I ran a hand through my hair. What the hell was I doing ? I couldn’t keep playing this game, couldn’t keep pretending I was okay with the plan my grandmother had set in motion.
I didn’t need this damn dating profile; I only needed Grace.
And God help me, I was determined to make her mine—no matter what I’d have to risk to do it. Even my heart.