Grace took it and smiled. “I’m Grace. Nice to meet you.” She nodded at his injury. “I think you might need stitches.”
Mitch swiped the back of his hand across his forehead and looked at the blood. “I don’t think so. Cuts on the head bleed a lot. They always look worse than they are.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Sloan pulled his phone out of his back pocket.
“Don’t bother calling her. She left her phone at the bar.” Mitch reached in his open car window, pulled out a cell phone, and tossed it to Sloan who caught it mid-air.
“Who was the guy?” Sloan cocked his head.
“Some random guy just passing through town.” Mitch cut his glance at Sloan. “He wasn’t much better than Rob.”
“Who’s Rob?” Grace looked between the two men.
“He’s the piece of shit that broke Allison’s heart.” Mitch offered up the explanation with venom.
“Did you check on her to make sure she was okay?” Sloan asked.
“I went to her apartment, but she told me to fuck off.”
Grace’s eyebrows shot up. “Allison actually said fuck off?”
Mitch nodded in appreciation. “She did.”
“I think I need to go check on her myself.” Sloan looked at Grace. Worry furrowed his brow.
“Of course.” Grace placed her hand on Sloan’s chest. Seeing how much he cared for his sister made her care for him even more. She turned to Mitch. “Thanks for letting us know about Allison.”
“Grace is right. You need to have that cut looked at.” Sloan clamped a hand across Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch snorted and got back in his car and drove away.
“I’m sorry, Grace.”
She shook her head. “No, you need to check on your sister. Family comes first.” Her heart ached a little with envy. She had no family. She shook her head to dislodge the traitorous thought. “Drop me off and go check on Allison. Call and let me know if there is anything I can do.”
Minutes later, Grace watched Sloan pull out of her driveway. He’d given her a quick kiss and promised their next date would be better. It had been the best first date she’d ever been on.
That night she’d let down her walls with Sloan, allowed him to see her naked, both physically and mentally. She couldn’t deny the chemistry that arced between them every damn time they were in the same room. It was like their bodies were calling to one another in a primal sense.
Her face heated as she thought how he’d brought her to climax so fast with his talented fingers, stroking her until she exploded in pleasure. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her chest, shivering as she remembered the feel of him in her hand.
She opened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath.
She’d seen his sincerity when he’d told her he wanted her. In his eyes, he’d meant more than just sex. He wanted her body and soul. Sloan wouldn’t be the type of guy to settle for a casual relationship.
No, he’d want the full deal.
And with that came honesty.
She just wasn’t sure she could handle the honesty yet.
Maybe soon.
Or maybe she’d never be ready.
Chapter Seven
“Allison, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” Sloan pounded on the door and waited.
“Go away.”
“Honey, let me in.”
He heard a shuffling noise and then the slide of the dead bolt he’d insisted be installed when she moved in.
The door swung open. Allison stood there in oversized sweatpants and his old Tennessee Volts T-shirt. She crossed her arms and glared back at him, as if daring him to step foot across her threshold.
He’d been looking for that T-shirt for weeks. He was beginning the think he’d lost it on a fishing trip. “Is that my shirt?”
“Yeah.”
He pushed past her and stepped inside. “I think those are my sweatpants too.”
“I needed something comfy to wear at night. Or when I felt bloated. I guess you want them back now.”
He cringed. “Just keep them.”
The door slammed shut. “What do you want, Sloan? I thought you had a date?”
He turned. “How did you know about that?”
“My friend Angie spotted you and Grace in the restaurant and sent me a text.”
“You’re not mad?” He studied her expression. “You know, for dating your friend?”
She snorted. “No. I’m glad you finally decided to get off your ass and do something about your dry spell.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened at the bar?” He sat beside her on the contemporary-looking sofa.
“Mitch didn’t tell you?”
“He said some guy got too close and Mitch had to call him on his shit.”
“I was on a date.”
“Mitch said the guy was drunk.”
“We were both drinking. Besides, I could have handled the situation myself.”
Sloan narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t sound like it. From the looks of Mitch, it was a violent situation.”
She cringed. “If Mitch wouldn’t have walked in like he was in charge and got up in the guy’s face, things wouldn’t have escalated.”