Read Online Undercover Love (The Women of Manatee Bay, Book 2) by Jessica Nelson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jessica Nelson
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Mom’s yard faded, replaced by Maggie, eyes empty, head down.
Rachel sighed in surrender and stomped the brakes. She turned around and let the car crawl back to her mom’s. She felt God’s hand nudging her and despite the pain, regardless of how the memories spiked her blood pressure when she was near Maggie, she’d go.
She pulled into the dusty driveway. Grant was still there, petting Silky, mom’s ancient cat.
***
Grant straightened when he saw Rachel’s car easing back onto her mother’s property. She drove slowly, as if unwilling to come closer than she had to.
She killed the engine. Sat in her car looking at him. What was she thinking? He ran his fingers through his hair, then thumbed his duty belt.
Rachel McCormick wasn’t the woman he’d thought her to be. It galled, knowing he still owed her an apology for the way he’d treated her that night at the Owens. He’d just read Colossians this morning and discovered he was supposed to forgive people the way God forgave him. A funny thing, Christianity. All the Christians he’d ever known, with a few exceptions, had been hypocrites. They knew the rules but didn't follow them.
He squinted. Take Rachel. She wouldn’t know a rule if it hit her in the head. He’d always thought she was cold and selfish but now he was beginning to realize how off the mark he was. At least on the cold part.
Her car door opened and she stepped out. Grant fought the urge to stare at the way her hair sliced under her chin, emphasizing sharp cheekbones and slanted eyes. After he swallowed his pride and apologized, he’d work on avoiding her.
Even if she was more human than he’d originally thought, she still rubbed him wrong. Eyes averted, she walked toward him, her face set in its typical uppity look. Her chin tilted upward as she passed.
He reached out and grabbed her arm before he could stop himself. “No hello, Princess?”
She jerked to a stop and he watched, mesmerized, as pink raced up her slender neck and suffused her face.
“Excuse me?”
Grant fought back his grin. Boy, she sounded mad. Ironically, he found her fascinating. Compelling. What made her tick?
He released her arm. “Just thought you’d say hello. Seems kind of rude to pass me by like that.”
The color on her cheeks deepened. “Is that so?”
“Don’t get prissy.”
“I’m not.” She sounded remarkably close to hissing. Kind of like Helga did when he didn’t pet her just right. He sure missed that cat.
Grant changed his stance. He’d better back down before Rachel had an aneurysm.
“Look,” he said, holding up his hand in a gesture of surrender. “I just wanted to tell you something.”
“More news?” Her eyebrows, two arcs of color on milky skin, lifted.
Grant swallowed. This was more difficult than he’d figured. The words seem to stick somewhere in his ribcage, like he had a rock on his chest holding them down. He cleared his throat.
She crossed her arms. Her eyes, emerald in the sun, seemed to wink at him. “Having trouble spitting it out?”
Grant cleared his throat again, hoping the words would come easier. “I just . . . Um, well.” Here it went. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits. He could practically see the disbelief.
“Just thought you should know that.”
Rachel rocked back on her heels. “Okay. Sorry for what?”
“The night at the Owens’ house.” Was his skin as red as it felt?
“You were doing your job.”
“I got personal, and I had no call treating you that way.”
She bit her lower lip and for a moment Grant thought she looked as vulnerable as a little child who had just realized she was lost in a store. Then the look flickered away, replaced with wintry boredom. “No problem. Listen, I’ve got to talk to my mom. I’ll see you around.”
Grant nodded, admiring the way she stalked up to the house. A woman on a mission. He meandered to his truck, mulling over his unexpected response to her.
Sure, he’d had a crush on her
Rachel sighed in surrender and stomped the brakes. She turned around and let the car crawl back to her mom’s. She felt God’s hand nudging her and despite the pain, regardless of how the memories spiked her blood pressure when she was near Maggie, she’d go.
She pulled into the dusty driveway. Grant was still there, petting Silky, mom’s ancient cat.
***
Grant straightened when he saw Rachel’s car easing back onto her mother’s property. She drove slowly, as if unwilling to come closer than she had to.
She killed the engine. Sat in her car looking at him. What was she thinking? He ran his fingers through his hair, then thumbed his duty belt.
Rachel McCormick wasn’t the woman he’d thought her to be. It galled, knowing he still owed her an apology for the way he’d treated her that night at the Owens. He’d just read Colossians this morning and discovered he was supposed to forgive people the way God forgave him. A funny thing, Christianity. All the Christians he’d ever known, with a few exceptions, had been hypocrites. They knew the rules but didn't follow them.
He squinted. Take Rachel. She wouldn’t know a rule if it hit her in the head. He’d always thought she was cold and selfish but now he was beginning to realize how off the mark he was. At least on the cold part.
Her car door opened and she stepped out. Grant fought the urge to stare at the way her hair sliced under her chin, emphasizing sharp cheekbones and slanted eyes. After he swallowed his pride and apologized, he’d work on avoiding her.
Even if she was more human than he’d originally thought, she still rubbed him wrong. Eyes averted, she walked toward him, her face set in its typical uppity look. Her chin tilted upward as she passed.
He reached out and grabbed her arm before he could stop himself. “No hello, Princess?”
She jerked to a stop and he watched, mesmerized, as pink raced up her slender neck and suffused her face.
“Excuse me?”
Grant fought back his grin. Boy, she sounded mad. Ironically, he found her fascinating. Compelling. What made her tick?
He released her arm. “Just thought you’d say hello. Seems kind of rude to pass me by like that.”
The color on her cheeks deepened. “Is that so?”
“Don’t get prissy.”
“I’m not.” She sounded remarkably close to hissing. Kind of like Helga did when he didn’t pet her just right. He sure missed that cat.
Grant changed his stance. He’d better back down before Rachel had an aneurysm.
“Look,” he said, holding up his hand in a gesture of surrender. “I just wanted to tell you something.”
“More news?” Her eyebrows, two arcs of color on milky skin, lifted.
Grant swallowed. This was more difficult than he’d figured. The words seem to stick somewhere in his ribcage, like he had a rock on his chest holding them down. He cleared his throat.
She crossed her arms. Her eyes, emerald in the sun, seemed to wink at him. “Having trouble spitting it out?”
Grant cleared his throat again, hoping the words would come easier. “I just . . . Um, well.” Here it went. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits. He could practically see the disbelief.
“Just thought you should know that.”
Rachel rocked back on her heels. “Okay. Sorry for what?”
“The night at the Owens’ house.” Was his skin as red as it felt?
“You were doing your job.”
“I got personal, and I had no call treating you that way.”
She bit her lower lip and for a moment Grant thought she looked as vulnerable as a little child who had just realized she was lost in a store. Then the look flickered away, replaced with wintry boredom. “No problem. Listen, I’ve got to talk to my mom. I’ll see you around.”
Grant nodded, admiring the way she stalked up to the house. A woman on a mission. He meandered to his truck, mulling over his unexpected response to her.
Sure, he’d had a crush on her
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