Grace flung back the covers, padded to the window, and glanced at the detached garage below. The garage door was open and a stream of light illuminated Max’s lean body as he bent over the hood of his car, jacket open, long legs in a wide stance. Her gaze fixed on those legs, traveled to his butt, his waist… A shiver of heat and what she refused to think of as desire swirled through her, settled low in her belly.
There’d been a time when she’d touched those legs, ran her hands along the muscles… She blinked, her gaze locked on the left back pocket of his faded jeans. At seventeen, he’d carried his wallet there, and inside the wallet had been a small photo of them. You’re my good luck charm, he’d said, his slow smile creating a burn deep inside. You’re with me, wherever I go. Had he ripped up the photo the night she broke up with him? Or had he carried it around for a while as a reminder that people hurt people they cared about all the time, and it was better to guard your heart than risk letting someone crush it?
Would Max have crushed her heart?
What if she’d chosen him instead of the well-ordered life she’d insisted upon, and a man who pretended to be someone he wasn’t? Would Max have hurt her, too, cheated on her, betrayed her? Would he have taken everything they shared and killed it with his lies? Tears blurred her vision, made it hard to focus. Grace swiped at her cheeks, homed in on Max’s back pocket. But what if Max were everything he’d promised? What if she’d veered off course when he’d begged her to, and chosen him?
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