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She excuses herself to the restroom, and I feel the loss of her warmth when she gets up. Usually girls go in groups to the bathroom, but she’s a strong, independent woman who heads there alone.
She’s been gone a while, and at first, I assume it’s because the ladies’ room had a line.
But when a full ten minutes have passed and she hasn’t returned, I start to get worried.
I excuse myself to head that direction, thinking maybe I’ll see her along the way. It’s not like I’m going to bust into the women’s bathroom to check on her, but maybe a woman outside the bathroom can check on her for me.
It’s as I approach the small hallway leading into the restrooms that I spot her.
A big, burly guy has her cornered near the bar, and she looks…scared. He’s just talking to her. His hands aren’t on her, but I get the very real sense that she’s in some sort of danger, and the immediate thought is that she needs my help.
The immediate thought is that I need to save her, and I will stop at nothing to get that look of fear off her face. I will stop at nothing to make sure she knows she’s safe with me.
I stride in her direction, butting my way in to end their conversation. “There you are,” I say, glaring at the big dude.
“You’re with her?” he asks me.
“She’s my wife,” I say thickly.
“I was just telling her how pretty her titties would look up on that stage.” He grins lewdly at me.
I feel sick at his words, and if I feel sick, I can’t even imagine how she feels.
My instinct is to punch this asshole right in the mouth, but a stronger instinct to get her out of this situation takes precedence.
“She’s not here to dance.” I take her hand in mine and pull her away from the guy, and I walk right past the group gathered across the three VIP tables that’s here to party tonight in celebration of my brother and his bride.
I lead Grace straight out the front doors, and she sucks in a breath of fresh air as soon as we’re outside.
“Gracie,” I say softly, and I pull her into me.
“Oh, God,” she whimpers, and she bursts into tears.
I wrap my arms around her, and she rests her head on my chest. “Did he hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “He didn’t touch me,” she sobs.
I rub my hand around her back in a soothing circle.
“It was how he looked at me. The things he said to me. It made me feel…gross.”
“You’re not,” I say fiercely. “You’re beautiful, and that’s all he could see. That’s all he cared about. He didn’t care that you’re one of the most organized people I’ve ever met, or how intuitive you are when it comes to people, or how kind you are even when someone treats you like shit. He didn’t care about the way you schedule the staff at the vineyard or how you can identify every note in a bottle of wine. He wasn’t looking at how you would drop anything to help someone out or how you never take time for yourself because you’re so dedicated to giving your family and the vineyard everything you have.”
She pulls back, her teary eyes lifting up to meet mine. She raises her hand to my jaw, her fingertips gliding softly along the scruff there. “Is that really what you think of me?” she whispers.
I look down tenderly into her eyes, shocked she even has to ask that question. “Of course it is, Gracie.”
Her eyes flick down toward my lips, and then she closes her eyes and leans in to press her mouth to mine.
I hold her close, careful not to deepen this kiss, careful not to take the lead. Careful not to spook her after she’s already full of fear from the encounter inside.
She pulls back and looks up at me in wonder. “Nobody has ever said those kinds of things to me. Nobody has ever noticed.”
“I have.” And I find it hard to believe nobody else ever has, but then I think of the night we met.
Maybe the reason nobody has ever noticed has less to do with Grace and more to do with her sister, who excels at taking center stage and stealing the light from Grace.
Not anymore. I won’t let anyone steal anything from her ever again.
