Devlin's Grace Read online

  As soon as the trite words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. She sounded like her mother, prattling away with platitudes and old sayings.

  “It won’t,” Dev said. “I don’t sleep much, anyway.”

  His hesitant manner hinted maybe he didn’t usually volunteer such personal information any more than she invited men up to drink coffee or rode motorcycles. Her hand trembled the tiniest bit as she put her cup up to her lips. Dev made her nervous, but he evoked a growing sense of tenderness, too. And his presence leached out a lot of her usual bashful reserve. Deep weariness shadowed his eyes and haunted his face, she noted, so she asked, “Why don’t you?”

  This time, his mug shook between his hands. After a heavy moment of silence, he sighed. “You can’t expect the devil to have sweet dreams, darlin’. Thanks for the coffee. I’ve got to go – morning comes early and I have to work.”

  When he held out the cup, Gracie noticed the scarring on the underside of his left arm. Dead white skin mottled with angry red patches and rough ridges indicated he’d suffered serious burns. She noticed similar scars on the side of his neck and wondered how much of his body had been affected. Everything she’d learned screamed at her to say nothing, to ignore what she saw, but Gracie followed instinct.

  After accepting the cup, she put it down on the end table and touched the old burn. Her fingers brushed against the coarse skin and marveled to find it cool. She expected heat, but it would’ve gone long ago. Dev started to jerk away from her, but when she touched him, he stopped. Like a bird poised for flight, he remained still as she stroked the damaged area.

  Before she could speak, he pulled his arm back. With a defiant glint in his eyes, he removed his t-shirt. “If you want to see the scars, you can see them all,” Dev said, voice harsh and hoarse.

  He revealed a torso dappled with terrible raised welts, both back and belly. These scars were worse than the others. Raised red ropes twined like vines over his flesh, fused and almost melted.

  The agony Dev must have endured was beyond anything she could imagine. Gracie’s eyes brimmed with tears. They spilled over, down her cheeks with silent hurt. One glance at his face, set hard and as stoic as a statue, intensified her empathy. She laid her right hand on his back, his scarred flesh beneath her touch and with her left she touched the center of his chest.

  Beneath her hand his heartbeat thumped, rapid but steady. His eyes locked with hers and in them Gracie glimpsed flickers of his personal hell. Confusion showed up, too, along with regret and maybe shame.

  Whatever she did or said now would be pivotal, she sensed. Based on her actions he’d either leave and be gone from her forever, something she didn’t want, or a new beginning would emerge, delicate and fragile. If she took time to think, she’d be lost, so Gracie mined deep into her woman’s soul. When words came, she spoke them, her voice soft and yet as constant as the evening stars. “Oh, Dev, it must’ve hurt so much.”

  “I don’t want your pity,” he said, a snarl transforming his face into something wolfish, alien. “Don’t feel sorry for me, babe. I don’t need charity, and I sure as hell don’t need you to tell me some dumb ass, feel-good bunch of shit. So quit crying over me. Maybe it makes you feel better, but it makes me mad.”

  “It isn’t pity,” Gracie said. “I admire you. It takes a lot of courage to overcome hurts like this. I hurt for you, but I don’t feel sorry for you. I hate you had to go through such pain, but I’m crying because I care.”

  His hard face softened a little. “Why?”

  In this raw moment, she could give him nothing but honesty. “I don’t know, but I do.”

  Then Gracie leaned forward and bent just enough to touch her lips to one of the ugliest lesions, the worst of the scars. He shuddered as she kissed his chest and when she lifted her tear-streaked face, Devlin grasped her arms. He held her in place and kissed her back, full on the mouth, without remorse or mercy.

  Gracie gasped with surprise. His lips burned hers as if she kissed a devil fresh from the pit, but she liked it. Her body answered his call, and her arms moved to circle his neck as she gave him back the kiss.

  No man had ever kissed her with such thorough savagery or such hungry need. Shy by nature, Gracie dated young men with quiet demeanors, who were bookish and bashful. None dared to take her mouth and claim it with potent fire. Her body charged with wild electricity. Gracie’s response scared her, but not enough to move away from the flame.

  Dev ran his big hands through her hair, gentle and yet insistent, his mouth hooked tight to hers like a bass caught with a spinner and skirt. At first his motions were a little clumsy, but as he continued, Gracie could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. Even with her limited experience she knew he kissed well. Like a child told dessert was out of the question, she craved more regardless of the consequences. She leaned hard against him, her hips moving against his body in a dance older than time.

  Without warning, he pulled away, panting, and stared at her with wide eyes. Dev outlined her bottom lip with his upturned thumb and shook his head. “I’ll be damned.”

  Head cocked, she queried him. “Why?”

  “You didn’t run and you liked it.”

  A different heat rose and she felt her cheeks turn hot, blushing. “And so what if I did?”

  He grinned, a full and huge smile. “I’d never guessed what a wild woman was hiding under your pretty face. Gracie, you shouldn’t invite strange men to your apartment.”

  His admonition amused her. “I don’t,” she said.

  “You did me.”

  “It’s different with you.” She knew it for certain, just not how or why.

  Devlin groped for his discarded shirt and pulled it on. Watching, she saw a variety of emotions play over his face. “Yeah, it is. I don’t know how to tell you this…”

  What now? Gracie waited to see what he’d say, ready to defend her emotions or surrender to another kiss. “What?”

  “I used to dream about a woman who looked a lot like you,” Devlin confessed. “I made her up when I was in Iraq. You could be her sister.”

  Tiny little ripples of excitement played hide and seek along her spine. “Is it good or bad?”

  He cocked his head. “I think it’s good, maybe, for me. I don’t know yet for you. I’m a loner, Gracie, and bad to the bone.”

  She didn’t agree, but said nothing. Her emotions overflowed in a jumble of confusion. All the angst she suffered about going to a new evening class paled in comparison to meeting Devlin – something she never expected.

  Instead, Gracie said, “There’s more coffee in the pot. Do you want another cup?”

  Dev hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s getting late. I need to go. I have work tomorrow, and if I stay, there’s no telling what I might do. Thanks, Gracie. I’ll see you next week at class, I guess.”

  Her mouth ached from his kisses and she didn’t want him to leave. But Gracie refused to beg. She would, however, be nosey without remorse. “Sure. Where did you say you worked?”

  The ghost of a grin flitted across his mouth. “I didn’t,” Devlin said. “But I’ll tell you anyway. I work security at Wal-Mart, the one over on Kansas Expressway. Anything else you want to ask?”

  Gracie longed to ask where he lived, but she’d quit for now. “No, just take care and try to get some sleep.” One eyebrow lifted in query and she added, “You look worn out, that’s all.”

  Devlin sighed with so much force his shoulders slumped. “I am. And I’ll try.”

  She remembered his jacket, hanging in the kitchen. “Let me get your coat.”

  When she held it out to him, his hands brushed over hers and lingered. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Both hesitated and then he slung the jacket over one shoulder. “See you later.”

  “Bye.”

  When he still didn’t turn around to walk out the door, Gracie wondered, but only for a few seconds. “I shouldn’t do this,” Dev said. “But
I can’t stop myself.”

  His mouth came down on hers, soft this time and sweet. None of his earlier ferocity lingered as he kissed her with an aching tenderness. He caressed her lips with his, first light as fine early morning clouds, then with the heat of summer sunshine. His gentle kiss burned into her consciousness with more firepower than his earlier effort and meant more.

  The first smooch brought a wild, earthy passion, but this time, Gracie’s emotions stirred. Dev evoked the feelings she already possessed, a thirst for him combined with an overwhelming desire to take care of him. She wanted to hold him in her arms and kiss away all the old hurts, soothe his troubled spirit and keep him close.

  Too soon, Dev ended the kiss. He stepped back with a smile bright enough to illuminate his eyes. “Now I can go,” he said. “Good night, Gracie.”

  Resisting the urge to hang onto his jacket and hold him in place, to ask him to stay the night, she nodded. “Good night, Dev.”

  He responded with a quick nod, then he reached over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. As he leaned close, he whispered in her ear. “You’re amazing, Gracie.”

  Before she could speak or respond, he opened the door and stepped out into the tiny upstairs landing. With a wave, Dev headed down the stairs at a fast pace, his boots banging each stair with a sound reminding her of a bass drum. Gracie shut the door when he reached the bottom.

  With speed, she dashed to the window overlooking the street, doused the lamp and watched as Devlin climbed onto his bike. He didn’t hurry. First he fastened his helmet in place then fired the engine. When he took off down the street, he glanced upward as if he knew she’d be there and waved one more time.

  Gracie didn’t move until the sound of his bike blended into the other night noises, the distant wails of ambulances and other traffic sounds. Then she picked up their dirty coffee cups and carried them to the kitchen. Half a pot of coffee remained, but she unplugged the pot and emptied it. Her hands worked by memory, mind free to ponder Devlin, a man like no other she’d met. As she fixed the pot for the morning, washed their few dishes, she thought about him and wondered.

  As she moved through the steps of her pre-bed routines, Gracie smelled the faint remnants of his male musk. Her lips seemed sore and she plastered them with lip balm. Most nights she took a shower, fast and efficient, but tonight, dreamy and full of Devlin, she longed for a relaxing bath.

  Warm water splashed into the deep tub, one of the apartment’s best perks, as she disrobed. Gracie added some lavender bath salts, then climbed into the bath. She let the water run high enough to cover almost all of her body then slumped until nothing but her head and neck remained dry. The calming scent combined with the soothing warmth of the water removed some of her emotional confusion. Her thoughts drifted, focused on Devlin.

  As her mind replayed his face again, she focused on the strength she saw there. Trouble dogged him, too, and she thought maybe his memories of Iraq were anything but positive. His nickname bothered her. Devil, he’d said they called him, devil because he did evil things. Gracie couldn’t imagine the man she spent the evening with doing anything bad or terrible, but there must be some justification for the name.

  She wondered what his first name might be and tried several on for size. Nothing seemed to fit. Dev didn’t seem like a Tyler or an Alan or a Rick. David wasn’t right and neither was Will. She almost went to sleep pondering it all, but she roused herself, dried, and slipped her nightgown over her head. In bed, she thought she wouldn’t sleep, but she did. She was out within a short time and didn’t wake until her shrill discount store alarm clock roused her from a dream.

  Although she couldn’t remember any details, she retained a sense Devlin was in it, and as she made coffee and ate some toast, Gracie tried to recall without success.

  At ten minutes before eight, she gathered up her books, thrust them into her battered knapsack, and headed for her first class. Two morning classes today and then she’d catch a bus to work until the book store closed at ten.

  With any luck, she could catch a bus back to her apartment or beg a ride from a co-worker. Once, she could’ve called a friend, but most of them had moved out of her life. Working long shifts and scrabbling to keep afloat financially didn’t leave much time for fun, and most of her pals apparently craved good times more than good friends.

  * * * *

  Twelve long hours later, Gracie shelved books left out by customers at the Barnes and Noble, bored and tired. On the weeknights no more than a few people shopped and most were lookers, not buyers. One elderly gentleman she recognized as a frequent customer stood in the mainstream fiction aisle and read a novel. Two teenage girls sat in the Nook area and played with the demonstration models.

  To pass the time, Gracie leafed through some art books, ones on painting water colors, but with less interest than she’d have guessed. A week seemed like a very long span until she would see Devlin again and at the thought, she sighed.

  Curiosity drove her to the medical section where she read books about burn victims. Although she’d known Devlin must have suffered, everything she found indicated his torment went way beyond the levels she’d imagined. As Gracie researched, details like the intensity of the pain and the way the old skin must be sloughed away proved to be too much. She put away the books.

  Her shift would end in another couple of hours and she could go home, but she couldn’t help wishing Devlin might show up.

  He didn’t.

  Chapter Three

  Gracie loathed Fridays, hated them with the passion she once used to hate butter beans and asparagus. When it seemed as if every other student on campus anticipated plans with eagerness, nothing appeared on her radar but work. To make enough money to keep her apartment paid and be able to buy the extras her scholarship didn’t provide, Gracie worked full shifts most Saturdays and Sundays.

  It wasn’t the lengthy hours she didn’t like. People crowded into the store in throngs. Hordes of teenagers roamed the aisles like dog packs, shoulder to shoulder, snapping gum and babbling slang. Families arrived en masse and turned their kids loose in the children’s area. Couples strolled through the store, hand in hand. Some of them poured over wedding planning books and advice for couples. Senior citizens tottered through with tote bags and shared old stories. Gracie enjoyed those, but little else.

  By the time the doors were locked, the entire bookstore needed to be put back in order on Fridays and more than once, she missed the last bus. Most of the time she could hitch a ride with someone going within a few blocks of her place, but once she ended up walking home, and Gracie feared it could happen again. By the time she made it, she’d been too terrified to sleep and every shadow along the way loomed large.

  “Go ahead and zone,” Clarissa, her manager said after locking the front entrance just after eleven. “It’s going to take a while, I’m afraid. Gracie, you do the children’s area. Tyron, take the non-fiction and I’ll catch fiction.” She assigned everyone an area but even so, it was almost midnight when everything had been put right.

  Gracie gathered up her purse and sweater. She hurried out to the parking lot, but no one remained. Clarissa trailed her outside, but she didn’t ask her boss for a ride. Clarissa lived in the wrong direction, out toward Rogersville, and always refused her. If she had to walk then she did, but she didn’t have to like it. As she began trudging up the edge of Glenstone, Gracie realized how humid it remained. By the time she reached her place, she’d be soaked with sweat and worn out.

  Long before she reached the intersection with Sunshine to turn left to head toward National, her cheap, ill-fitting shoes rubbed against her right heel enough to hurt. She’d have a blister, too, and the irritated skin would bleed.

  “Shoot fire and save matches,” she mumbled as she waited for the signal light to change so she could cross at the intersection of Sunshine and Glenstone. The faux oath came straight from her mother’s mouth, some of the strongest language Gracie uttered under most circumstances.
/>   Two blocks down Sunshine, limping along, she grew aware of a noise among all the other traffic sounds. It took a few minutes to recognize it, but when she did, Gracie whirled around to find Devlin trailing her on his cycle. He gestured to the next parking lot so she turned in and so did he.

  “Need a ride?” he asked, shouting over the rumble of the motor.

  Gracie wanted to kiss him just for being there. “Sure,” she said. “Were you following me?”

  “Hell no,” Dev said with a grin. “I always drive a loop between your place and the damn bookstore on Friday nights, looking for wild women to pick up and take home.”

  Some of her fatigue peeled away as she laughed at his sarcastic crack. “I’m glad you do,” Gracie told him. “I’m tired and I’d even ride with the devil to get home.”

  Devlin laughed aloud. “Then climb on, babe. I’ve even got a helmet for you this time.”

  She watched as he opened the storage compartment behind the second seat and pulled out a standard helmet, without horns. “Thanks,” she said.

  “Put it on.”

  Gracie obeyed. Once in place, she could’ve sworn she wore a bowling ball on her head. It weighed more than she expected and it muffled sound. Dev’s lips moved, but she strained to hear him. After realizing he insisted she buckle the strap in place, she did and swung her leg over the seat. This time, she wasn’t as nervous about it, and he waited until she settled into place, her arms tight around his waist.

  “Ready?” he shouted.

  “Yeah,” she screamed back.

  The Honda rolled out of the parking lot slowly, but once he hit the street Devlin ramped up speed. When they reached National Avenue, he headed down it, but he passed the side street where she lived. Gracie wondered why, but she doubted he’d forgotten, so she waited to see what he planned.

  Dev wheeled into the Steak ‘N Shake at the corner of National and St. Louis and parked. She pulled off the helmet as he turned around to ask, “Would you want a burger or something? I thought you might be hungry.”