It was the craziest thing, and he really hadn't known her long enough to be even thinking about the future, but he felt like he’d known her so much longer than a few days. No doubt because he’d spent so many hours helping the Bennetts search for her.
Not ready for the evening to end yet, he paused beside his car. “You want to grab some ice cream on the way back to your brother’s place?”
“Mmm, yeah,” she quickly agreed, a dreamy look on her face.
“You're adorable, you know that?” he asked with a laugh as he smoothed a lock of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
Grace scrunched up her nose, making her look like a little rabbit. “Adorable?”
“The cutest.”
“Is that how you see me? Just as someone who’s cute?”
The doubt in her eyes told him that she was still struggling to make sense of who she was now and how she fitted into the world. Taking her face between his hands he met her gaze and held it so there could be no doubt about what he was about to say. “I think you are the most beautiful woman I've ever set eyes on. You’re gorgeous, and when I'm with you it takes every ounce of my self-control not to ravish every inch of your stunning body. This is what you do to me, sweetheart.” Grasping her wrist, he moved one of her hands to brush between his legs where he had been fighting against his body’s reaction to her all night. Not an easy thing to do when she stood there like a warrior learning to shoot a gun. “I want you so bad I know I'm going to dream about you tonight. But I respect you, and I know you're still trying to get your feet beneath you, so I'm not going to do anything about it yet. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to though, honey. Doesn’t mean I won't do something about it when the time is right. When you're ready.”
Grace was staring up at him, eyes wide, breathing ragged, just as his own was. “You’re almost too good to be true.”
He smiled wildly and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Not too good to be true, just a man who knows something worth waiting for when he sees it.”
* * * * *
10:09 P.M.
“That was the best ice cream I've ever had,” Grace said as she finished off the last spoonful. She’d made it last as long as she could while she and Matthew had strolled through the park and then driven back to Jem and Laynie’s place.
Okay, it wasn’t really the ice cream she was trying to make last.
It was the date.
They’d had Chinese food on the way to the range, and it was clear Matthew had asked about her favorites because he knew exactly what to order. Even when she’d gotten a little frustrated with herself that her shooting wasn’t as good as his—even though she’d known there was no way she could outshoot a cop her first try—he’d been calm and patient, and she’d had a lot of fun.
All those memories of the women she’d been forced to kill that she had been so afraid would take over had been there, but Matthew’s presence had kept them at bay, and she’d been able to focus on what she was doing. One thing was for sure, Grace was never going to be anyone’s prisoner again. Not Emmanuel and not any of the other sick monsters roaming the earth.
“Couldn’t agree more,” Matthew said as he pulled into the driveway. “Although I think it has more to do with the company than the actual ice cream.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” she echoed. As much as she loved a good hot fudge sundae topped with nuts, sprinkles, chocolate chips, and the traditional cherry on top, it was absolutely the company that made this one her favorite. She got along so well with Matthew. They talked, he made her laugh, he hadn't held back about his dark past which meant she hadn't felt the need to hold back about her abduction. They just … clicked.
“I’ll walk you to the door.” He unbuckled his seatbelt, but she reached out to stop him.
“It’s okay, you don’t need to, it’s literally about fifteen steps to the porch.” The last thing she needed in her life was another overprotective big brother. She had two already, plus her sisters-in-law and she didn't want another. While she understood Matthew wasn’t just a cop but the one who rescued her and was working her case, she wanted to be more than that to him. Never once tonight had he made her feel like a victim, until now.
“Hey,” he said soothingly, capturing her hand and cradling it in his much larger one. “I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry.”
Grace huffed out a breath. She was being overly sensitive, projecting her own worries onto Matthew. She was the one who was worried about forever being the victim, she didn't want this one thing to define her. It was probably why she was so driven to rebuild her life, she wanted to be more than just a kidnap victim. “No, I'm the one who should be sorry, I snapped at you because of my own insecurities. I want to be more than just Emmanuel’s victim. My brothers and their wives hover and fuss, and I know they love me, and I know they suffered too, but I want you to see me. The real me. I'm still in here. Different than the Grace I was before but still me. That’s the person I want you to see when you look at me, not someone who has to be walked to her door because she can't do it on her own.”
“Sweetheart,” he said softly and reached out to feather his fingertips across her temple. “I wanted to walk you to the door because it’s what a gentleman does after a date, and because I want to wring out every last second of time I get to spend with you.”
“Oh,” the word fluttered from her lips on a breath of air as she saw the fiery heat in his eyes. Was he going to kiss her goodnight? “Now I feel stupid for jumping to conclusions.”
Matthew laughed and the tension eased. “Come on.”
While she unbuckled, Matthew rounded the car and opened her door for her, taking her hand as she stood up. They walked in silence up the porch steps and then stood there staring at one another.
Grace felt suddenly awkward and unsure. She wanted him to kiss her, but she wasn’t sure how to ask him to. He’d told her that he saw her as more than just a victim, and he’d given her no reason to doubt that, and yet still this felt different than the end to other dates she’d had. Then she’d always known it would end in a kiss at the door, or after they’d been dating a while taking things inside, but with Matthew she had that nervous swirly feeling in her stomach. No butterflies for her, more like stampeding t-rexes.
Their eyes met.
Metaphorical sparks arced between them.