Chapter Four

As her father’s social secretary, Grace had single-handedly organized dinners and events for hundreds of people from diplomats to heads of state. Unlike Jack’s homecoming, each and every one of them had gone off without a hitch.

They’d been perfect.

Grace mentally reviewed what had gone wrong today and came to the conclusion it was her fault. She’d bowed to the pressure of the citizens of Christmas and allowed her son to meet his father with everyone looking on—with Sawyer in the room. And then Jack and Sawyer had gone all Alpha male with their I’ll-bring-you-to-your-knees handshake and I’m-keeping-an-eye-on-you looks.

Surprisingly, they appeared to be fighting over her. Surprising because Jack didn’t seem to want much to do with her, and she didn’t understand his acting all possessive. Then again, he was an Alpha male. Even though he didn’t remember her, she was his wife and that’d be all the excuse he needed to stake his claim. Besides that, Sawyer had egged him on. From what she knew of their friendship, Jack wouldn’t have needed much egging. The two men were fiercely competitive.

She clunked her head against the screen door and contemplated escaping into the late-afternoon sunshine if only for a few minutes. Instead, she took a deep calming breath of warm, lilac-scented air before closing and locking the door. Since their friends and neighbors had begun clearing out when she’d taken refuge in the kitchen, it wouldn’t be long before she and Jack were on their own. Grace didn’t know whether she was happy about that or not. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to act around him or what she was supposed to say.

Dr. Peters had told her to follow Jack’s lead. To talk about their past, but if she sensed he was overwhelmed to back off. After the living conditions he’d endured for the last seventeen months, she was sure the meal she’d prepared—his favorite, roast beef—and their comfortable apartment would make him feel welcomed and relaxed. That thought alone eased some of her anxiety.

Now if Jill had managed to settle Jack Junior down for a nap, he’d be easier to deal with, too—and less prone to violence. And if she was really lucky, her sister-in-law would also be in a better mood. Grace didn’t think she could put up with any more of Jill’s censorious looks or remarks. It didn’t seem to matter that Jack was home now. Jill obviously hadn’t forgiven Grace for giving up on him.

Today hadn’t helped.

No matter how much she wanted to, Grace couldn’t stall any longer. She took one last look around the gleaming kitchen before going to rejoin the others. She pushed through the swinging doors at the same time as Jack and slammed into him. It felt like she’d run into a brick wall. His large, calloused hands closed around her upper arms. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

Oh, how she’d missed his deep, raspy voice. Missed the way he called her princess, missed how often he told her he loved her, missed the way he teased her and the way he shouted her name in the throes of passion. His brow furrowed. “Did I hurt you?”

She blinked away the memories and smiled. “No, I’m…” Her smile faltered when she noted the tic in his clenched jaw, the furious light in his incredible blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He gently moved her back a couple of steps then released her. His firm lips flattened as he took in the kitchen.

“Jack, what is it?”

She knew him well enough to see that he was struggling to keep his temper in check. He drew his gaze back to hers. “Who owns the bakery now?”

“We do, of course.” He cursed under his breath, and she briefly closed her eyes. He didn’t remember. And Jill hadn’t told him. What had she been thinking?

But Grace knew exactly what her sister-in-law had been thinking. When Jack had come back from his year-long deployment, it’d been hard to know what had angered him more: Charlie’s death, his grandmother dying and leaving them the bakery, or the colicky baby Grace couldn’t get to stop crying. Everything and everyone set him off back then. “I’m sorry. I thought Jill had told you.”

“No, she didn’t,” he muttered, looking around the kitchen once again before returning his hard, unyielding gaze to her. “How long have you been running the bakery?”

She walked away from him and nervously picked up the cloth she’d folded over the sink. “Pretty much since Libby died,” she said as she went to wipe the prep top. She scrubbed at a faint scratch on the corner. “Business is improving. The expansion loan is almost paid back, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He came to her side. His tall, leanly muscled body brushing against hers sent a familiar rush of desire through her as he took the cloth from her hand. If the irritated look on his gorgeous face was any indication, he didn’t have the same reaction. “Stop it. I’m not worried about the money.”

He’d always hated the bakery, and she loved it. She’d found herself here. Made a place for herself in a town she loved. “Then I don’t understand why you’re angry.” But of course she did, she just wished she didn’t.

“It’s a good two-hour drive from my place. What do you do when the weather gets bad? Who looks after your son?” His gaze was probing yet wary, as if he knew the answer but hoped he was wrong.

Grace stiffened at his reference to Jack Junior as her son and struggled to keep the emotion from her voice. “He’s our son,” she said quietly. “We live in your grandmother’s apartment. I sublet your place in Fort Carson. It didn’t make sense—”

He threw the cloth on the table. “Is Jill upstairs?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “But, Jack, we need to talk about this…” His long, angry strides took him through the swinging doors before she finished. A few choice words popped in Grace’s head, but she didn’t let them out of her mouth. She didn’t swear, no matter the provocation. And she had lots of provocation. Jack had shut her down before, and she wasn’t going to let him do so again. The bakery was too important to her. Somehow she had to get him on board. Because if he decided to sell it out from under her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to forgive him.

Grace was about to go after him when Madison, looking over her shoulder, entered the kitchen. She turned her attention to Grace and pulled a face. “Sorry, I had no idea he didn’t know about the bakery.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t, either. I thought Jill told him.”

“It’s gotta be hard for him to come home and find everything’s changed. But I’m sure once he gets used to it, he’ll be happy with what you’ve done to the place.”

Grace absently picked up the cloth. “It’s not about the changes. When he found out Libby left us the bakery, he wanted to sell.”

Madison stilled Grace’s hand with hers. “We’re here, so he must’ve changed his mind, right?”

“No.” She didn’t like to talk about her personal life, but as her business partner, Madison deserved to know. “Jack wasn’t himself when he came back. He had a lot to deal with. I thought”—she shrugged—“it was a great opportunity for us, but he didn’t see it that way. He left before we’d settled anything, and then a few days later, we got word he was MIA. I needed the bakery more than ever then. I couldn’t make myself sell it.”

“You said Jack used to do the bakery’s books, right?”

“Yes.” Jack and his grandmother weren’t close, but he took care of everything for her. He was a man who took his responsibilities seriously. He’d never let hard feelings get in the way of doing what he felt was his duty.

“Well, there’s the problem. I would’ve had the same reaction he did. But once he realizes how well the business is doing, he’ll be fine. If you want, I’ll go over the books with him.”

“He more or less told me it’s not about the money. Jack didn’t get along with his grandmother. I think the bakery reminds him of that.”

“After what he’s been through, I’m sure whatever happened between them will seem inconsequential in comparison. And even if he says the money doesn’t matter to him, it will once he sees how well you’re doing. You just have to sit him down and talk about it.”

She wished it were that easy. “I’ll try.”

“You do that. I don’t want anything to stand in the way of the bakery’s success.” Madison tapped her chin. “Let me write down a few talking points for you.”

Twenty minutes into Madison’s talking-points presentation, Gage came looking for his wife. He glanced at the papers. “What are you up to?”

“You saw how Jack reacted to Grace owning the bakery. I thought it would be helpful if she could hit him with some hard facts. Once he sees—”

Gage rubbed the back of his neck. Madison stopped midstream. “I don’t like when you do that. You always say something I don’t want to hear.”

“Give him a break, honey. He’s just come home. He has a lot to take in.”

Gage was right. Grace should’ve followed Jack instead of letting Madison distract her. Granted, she had kind of welcomed the distraction. Part of her didn’t want to deal with Jack and the fallout over her decision to keep the bakery. “How angry is he, Gage? He and Jill aren’t going at it in front of Jack Junior, are they?”

Gage gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “No. Jack Junior’s napping, and they were talking, civilly, when I left with the girls about fifteen minutes ago.”

That didn’t mean they would be once they were alone. The siblings had both inherited the infamous Flaherty temper. “I’d better get up there.”

“Just one more thing.” Madison went to jot something down. Gage snagged the pen from her. “Oh no, you don’t. Grace has to get upstairs, and we have to get home. Nell took the girls to her place. I figure we have the house to ourselves for an hour or two.”

“Oh yeah?” Madison grinned, then gave Grace a quick hug. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said before asking her husband, “Did you mention the barbeque to Jack?”

“Yeah. We thought we’d have a few people over Saturday for a Memorial Day barbeque,” Gage explained to Grace. “He said he was good with that. Okay with you?”

“Yes, that’d be great. Thank you.”

“Perfect. I’ll talk to Jack about the bakery’s very bright future then,” Madison said with a satisfied smile.

Gage put his hands on his wife’s shoulders and steered her through the doors. “You’re going to be too busy cooking to do much talking, honey.”

“You’re not serious, are you? I was joking about me cooking,” Madison protested as they walked to the front door.

Following them onto the sidewalk, Grace smiled. She couldn’t help but wonder if she and Jack would ever get back that same easy familiarity.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Nell says she’ll give you a hand.” Gage winked at Grace, checking the door she’d just locked before leading his grumbling wife away.

Grace waved and opened the purple exterior door. As she climbed the narrow staircase, she listened for sounds of a knock-down drag-out fight. Surprisingly, it was quiet.

She opened the door to their apartment and walked down the hall to glance in the living room on her right. Jill sat in the middle of the blue area rug with Jack Junior, surrounded by a pile of colorful wooden blocks. “Wow, nice… castle,” Grace guessed, dropping a kiss on her son’s head. “Where’s Jack?” she asked her sister-in-law.

Jill canted her head toward the kitchen. “See how tall you can make it, buddy.” She came to her feet, following Grace into the other room. “He went for a run.”

The last time they’d had a fight, Jack had left and disappeared from her life for seventeen months. Grace’s knees went weak, and she sank onto the straight-backed chair. “I wish you’d told me you didn’t say anything about the bakery to him. He was furious.”

Arms crossed over her chest, Jill leaned against the counter. “I’m sure he wasn’t too happy about his son calling Sawyer ‘Da’ or the way the man was drooling over you, either.”

“Don’t do this, not now.” Grace dropped her face in her hands. “I don’t know how to make this right. We have enough to deal with without him feeling like I went against his wishes.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Jill’s voice lost its sarcastic edge. “I told him he agreed to you keeping the bakery before he re-upped.”

Grace jolted upright. “You did what?”

Her sister-in-law shrugged. “You said so yourself, you have enough to deal with without this coming between you.” Jill glanced out the window over the sink. “I don’t want to give him a reason to…” Her voice trailed off.

“You don’t want to give him a reason to what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Jill. You lied to him. What am I supposed to say when he gets his memory back?”

“We’ll deal with it then. Right now, you have to focus on making him remember what you had together. You still love him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. How can you even ask me that?” Jack had been her one and only love, and it was hard to have Jill question Grace’s feelings for him. Nothing had happened between her and Sawyer. Grace didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. Not about Sawyer at least. But she did feel guilty she’d been ready to move on, to let Jack go, and now she felt guilty about the lie Jill had told him. Only Grace wasn’t sure she could tell him the truth. At least not until he saw for himself how well the bakery was doing.

“I’m sorry. I know you love him.” Jill glanced at her watch. “I’m going to head out. You guys need some time alone together.”

“I thought you’d stay for dinner at least.” It was ridiculous how nervous Grace was to be alone with her husband.

“I’m tired, and I have an early shift in the morning.” Jill sniffed. “Smells good, though. Save me some leftovers.”

Grace checked the temperature on the roast before heading into the living room after her sister-in-law. Jill kissed her nephew good-bye, and Grace followed her to the door. With her hand on the knob, Jill turned and drew Grace into a one-armed hug. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch. You’re my best friend, and I love you. It just hurt to think… Never mind, he’s home now.” She pulled back, swiping at her eyes. “I can’t believe it. He’s really home.”

“I know. And his son bit him.” Grace half laughed, half sobbed. “What am I going to do, Jill? He doesn’t remember us.” Grace hadn’t been able to tell anyone how much that hurt. It made her feel forgettable, as if he hadn’t really loved her, at least not enough to remember her.

For years after her sister Faith’s death, her parents had forgotten about Grace, too. They’d been grieving, she understood that, but underneath their grief had been blame. She’d wondered if subconsciously Jack blamed her for Charlie’s death. Thanks once again to her father, Jack came home two weeks early when Grace, exhausted from dealing with a colicky baby while trying to run the bakery, had ended up in the hospital. It was then that his best friend and crew chief was killed.

“One day at a time, remember?”

That’s what they used to say to each other. It was how they’d gotten through those first horrible months and the equally horrible ones that followed.

The door opened as they gave each other one last hug. Jack, wearing a gray T-shirt and sweatpants, looked from Jill to Grace. “What’s wrong?”

“Just happy you’re home.” Jill hugged him, then lifted her head from his chest. “Ewh, you’re all sweaty.”

“Yeah, I need a shower.” He drew away from her and lifted the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe the beads of perspiration from his forehead. Grace’s gaze dropped to the deeply tanned washboard stomach he revealed. She hooked a finger in her strand of pearls. Oh my. Before he caught her ogling his body, she dragged her eyes back to his face. Blue eyes locked on to hers as he lowered the T-shirt. Jill snorted a laugh and patted his arm. “I’ll leave you two alone. Three,” she corrected at the sound of toppling blocks.

“I thought you’d stick around for a while.” There was a hint of desperation in Jack’s voice as he glanced from Grace to the living room.

Oh, great. Her reaction to that brief flash of naked abs probably had him worried she was going to jump him as soon as Jill left. Or maybe he was worried about which limb their son would gnaw on next. Then Grace reminded herself that he didn’t think of Jack Junior as his son, and that was more hurtful than what he might think of her. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Jill,” she said as she walked toward the living room.

Attempting to ignore their quiet conversation in the hall, Grace knelt beside her son. “Do you want to help mommy get dinner ready?” She forced a bright smile and piled the blocks in the bin.

Jack Junior nodded, and Grace nattered on about peeling carrots and potatoes while organizing the blocks into neat rows. “How does that—” she went to ask her son when she noticed Jack leaning against the white plaster pillar, watching her with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sounds like you guys are going to be busy for a while. Mind if I take a shower?”

Unconsciously her gaze flitted over his incredibly masculine, broad-shouldered frame. She’d memorized every glorious inch of him, knew where every freckle was, knew how to touch him to drive him wild with passion, knew how to make him laugh. “Grace?”

Heat suffused her cheeks at the memories, and she cleared her throat. “Not at all. There’s clean towels on the bed for you. Everything else is where you left…” She grimaced and pushed the bin aside. “You probably don’t remember where anything is. I’ll show—”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll find what I need.” He came to crouch beside them. His gaze roamed her face, a gentle smile curving his lips. “I know this is as tough on you as it is me. I’m sorry if my reaction earlier made it harder. It’ll take me some time to get used to the changes, that’s all.” He handed her a block as if it was a peace offering.

Her son, who’d been quietly sizing up the big stranger beside him, grabbed the block and held it to his chest. “Mine.”

“Jack Junior,” Grace said with an exasperated sigh, then apologized. “He’s a little possessive of his things right now.”

Jack shrugged and held her gaze. “So am I. I never did like to share. Still don’t.”