The little boy on the next blanket moved, blocking Kennedy’s view of Grace. He shifted to compensate, and found her looking right at him. And then he knew. Whatever was happening between them wasn’t over yet. The longing in her face told him she felt the same driving need to be close, to kiss deeply, to touch.
“How do you like the show, Kennedy?” his mother asked.
Kennedy pulled his gaze away. “It’s great,” he said. But he wasn’t thinking about the Fourth of July. He was thinking about buying more condoms. Several boxes. He and Grace had most of the summer. They’d be foolish to waste it.
Camille leaned forward. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. But he wasn’t so sure. He was imagining how he’d feel when it was time for Grace to leave. Would he be able to give her up?
Of course he would, he told himself. He’d have to.
Grace breathed in the scent of baby shampoo that lingered in Teddy’s hair. He and Heath felt so perfect in her arms. Teddy’s face was sticky from the cotton candy he’d eaten earlier. And they wiggled a lot, which made Madeline complain. But Grace couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be than sandwiched between them.
Unless it was with Kennedy. She wanted him there, too. But she was trying hard not to show it. By downplaying their relationship, she hoped to take away Joe’s power. If they didn’t appear too interested in each other, it probably wouldn’t matter so much that they’d been together once or twice. Kennedy was a widower. He had to get lonely. A brief affair to assuage that loneliness was completely forgivable—especially, in a community as misogynistic as Stillwater—for a man.
As long as this town didn’t perceive her as a threat to Kennedy’s heart, she figured he might still be able to win the election. Provided everything calmed down. But in order for that to happen, she and Kennedy needed to keep their distance.
“Kennedy’s watching you again,” her mother murmured gleefully.
Grace kissed Heath’s head, then smiled at the fireworks bursting across the sky. She didn’t think she’d ever been so happy, at least not since before her mother had married the reverend. Only Molly was missing. If Molly were here, she’d want the show to last forever.
“He doesn’t make any secret about what he wants, does he?” Madeline’s girlish giggle was infectious. “He acts like he can’t take his eyes off you.”
“He’s just checking on the boys,” Grace said.
Irene shook her head. “No, he’s not.”
“If Kirk ever looked at me that way, I think I would marry him,” Madeline said dreamily.
“Who’s looking at you?” Teddy asked, finally tuning in.
“No one,” Grace replied. But Heath answered at the same time.
“Dad.”
Obviously Kennedy’s oldest had picked up more than Grace had realized. She made a surprised face at Madeline over his head.
“He thinks she’s pretty,” he said.
“Maybe he’ll marry you!” Teddy chimed in.
“No, we’re just friends,” she said. She knew that could never happen. But she had this moment. For now it was enough. Or so she believed until the fireworks were over. Then she felt strangely bereft as she kissed Teddy and Heath goodbye.
As they ran to their father, she forced herself to turn away. But Kennedy bumped into her as everyone jostled to get out of the stadium, and thrust part of a napkin into her hand.
She shoved it in the pocket of her skirt without response. The Vincellis were on her left, glaring at her. But the moment Madeline dropped her off, she hurried into her house, pulled the napkin out and opened it.
Come over, it said.
It was after midnight. Grace held a glass of wine in one hand and Kennedy’s brief summons in the other. She’d been telling herself for hours that she wouldn’t go. They had an understanding. Last night was supposed to be their only concession to how they felt. She knew she’d be doing Kennedy and his boys a favor by refusing to continue the relationship. She also knew she probably didn’t have enough willpower. Last night didn’t feel like the end. It felt like the beginning.
The clock chimed twelve-thirty, jerking her out of her thoughts. She was going, and she knew it. No use prolonging the wait. But she’d have to be careful. Joe seemed to be keeping a close eye on her place. If he was out there somewhere, waiting as he’d been waiting last night, she certainly didn’t want him to know where she was going.
Gathering her purse and keys, she walked outside and circled the house. No one skulked about in the garden or the garage. No one lurked in the drive. She even sat in her car for a few minutes to see if his truck went by.
Firecrackers popped a few streets over, a little late celebrating. But there was no sign of Joe.
He couldn’t spy on her twenty-four seven; he had to sleep sometime. With his face so badly injured, he was no doubt home in bed.
Chastising herself for being paranoid, she started her car and pulled into the street. She wouldn’t park at Kennedy’s, she decided. She’d leave her car a few blocks away and walk.
Kennedy’s house was rather intimidating. Perfectly restored, it had three stories with a turret and a gabled roof. It was by far the best in Stillwater—the town’s only historic building, besides the old post office.
Grace felt as though she had no right to venture inside. She almost turned back three times as she advanced toward the wide verandah. Maybe Raelynn had passed on, but this was still her house, her man, her children.
The voices of Kennedy’s friends echoed in Grace’s mind. Hey, babe, come and give me a little sugar…You know what I like.
Biting her lip, she lowered the hand she’d just raised to knock. What had she been thinking? She had no business here.
She hurried down the steps. But a click behind her indicated someone had opened the door.
“You weren’t going to knock?” Kennedy asked.
Silently cursing the weak will that had brought her here in the first place, she pivoted on the flagstone path leading through the tulips and irises of Kennedy’s parklike yard. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
A car passed on the road. Grace held her breath until she could be sure it wasn’t Joe.
“What’s wrong?” Kennedy asked.
“This place…changes things,” she replied.
The deep shadows made it difficult to read his expression. “How?”