Chapter Four

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Gracie~

Weston must have been amused by my sudden jerky, awkward movements as I searched for the target of his intense gaze, because his half smile kept rising up the side of his mouth until it revealed a few of his perfect teeth.

Neither of us seemed to care when Chad sank the winning shot that caused the entire room to erupt with cheers. The sudden burst of noise made me jump, but Weston was unmoved, steady and leaning forward, bracing his weight on his knuckles as he eyed me as if I were a meal he was ready to feast on. I wasn't used to the amount of attention he was giving me and instinctively pulled my eyes away from his, trying to look anywhere else except at those brown eyes that seemed to swallow me whole.

I forced my eyes away from his, but in a matter of seconds they were searching for him again, desperate to know if he was still staring. The second our eyes locked, his half smile grew even wider which seemed to make my stomach flip flop and a swarm of butterflies to flutter through my veins.. I couldn't help but smile back at him as if I had no control over my own body at the moment.

What am I doing?

He straightened his posture and moved as if he were going to walk toward me, when a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass echoed from the kitchen. There were grunts and thuds as a fight broke out in the kitchen, sending beer bottles flying onto the floor and shattering upon impact.

"Yo Wes!" Someone screamed, pulling Weston's attention to the scuffle and away from me.

"Motherfuckers." Weston mumbled under his breath as he eyed the scene that was unfolding in his kitchen.

Weston's lip snarled in disgust as he pinned his shoulders back and took hard angry steps toward the kitchen to break up the fight that had ensued. I watched him ball and flex his hands as he readied himself for physical confrontation and once he reached the kitchen he took complete control. Weston grabbed one of the guys by the back of the neck with one hand, jerking him backwards effortlessly as he stood between the two drunken fighters with one of his massive hands on each of their chests.

One of the guys was worn out and bloodied, but the other still had some fight left in him. I had seen that look a hundred times before when Colt was getting ready to throw a drunken punch that was going to do very little damage other than escalate things.

That same drunken confidence flashed in the eyes of one of the assholes Weston was holding and I knew exactly what was coming next.

That guy is about to hit Weston.

Before my mouth could form any words of warning, Weston turned and spotted the punch that was being thrown his way, swiftly dodging it by leaning to the side before he took the drunken frat boy by the throat and pinned him hard against the fridge.

"You got the nerve to swing on me in my own fucking house?" Weston yelled into the guys face.

I watched in horror as Weston dropped his shoulder and readied his clenched fist to make contact with the drunken guys face. He was going to do some serious damage and the anticipation of the broken bones and blood that I was about to witness caused my hands to instinctively fly up to cover my mouth as I gasped.

For some reason the movement of my hands caught Weston's peripheral vision and he shot his eyes toward me briefly with his arm cocked and ready to deliver the punishing blow. His dark brown eyes locked onto mine for less than a second before he turned his attention back to the pathetic asshole he had pinned against the fridge.

"Get the fuck out of my house." Weston growled before flinging the guy to the floor by his throat.

Chad brushed past me into the kitchen ready to back Weston up if he needed it, but he seemed to know and understand that Weston was fully capable of handling himself with absolutely no assistance.

"You good man?" Chad asked, looking around the demolished kitchen.

"Yeah I'm good. What's everybody fuckin' starin at? It's a damn party, go have a beer or somethin'" Weston grumbled with his southern accent bouncing off the kitchen tiles and settling in my ears.

Look at all that glass and spilled beer. I should go grab some towels.

Colt had caused numerous fights, resulting in similar damage which meant clean up duty wasn't foreign to me. Not to mention the fact that I was happy to help.

"Which room is yours Chad? I'll go grab some towels." I said over the music to Chad who was stepping around broken glass.

"Second on the left." Chad said, giving her an appreciative chin lift.

I took off down the hallway only seeing one door on the left. Hmm guess Chad is drunker than I thought. I chuckled to myself and shook my head as I entered the room, slowly just to be sure it wasn't occupied. As soon as I entered the room, I looked around trying to find the connecting bathroom. My eyes danced across the unmade bed, but didn't stop until they landed on the multiple gun racks that lined his walls.

Good gosh Chad, how many guns do you need?

I made my way into the connecting bathroom, searching for towels, which I found, but of course none of them were clean.

Rolling my eyes, I gathered a few in my arms and stood, turning quickly on my heel to return to the kitchen when I ran directly into a hard body. I bounced off of a firm chest and felt two strong hands grab hold of my arms to steady me and keep me from tumbling to the ground.

"You lost?" Weston's deep voice echoed from the other side of the mountain of towels in my arms.

"I um...came to get some towels out of Chad's bathroom to help clean up the kitchen. He obviously hasn't done laundry in a while." I joked, leaning my head to the side of the towels to get a better look at Weston's face.

"This isn't Chad's room."

Shit.

"This is my room and you're right, I haven't done laundry in a while." Weston chuckled, but didn't really smile.

Way to put your foot in your mouth Gracie, now you're trespassing in his room that he's clearly protective of and you've just insulted him.

With a little bit of liquid courage helping me out, I switched gears and started complimenting Weston's room instead.

"It's really nice!" I gushed with overexaggerated expressions as I turned and surveyed the small room again.

"I love all the...guns...are you some kind of law enforcement or maybe an assassin?"

My question seemed to get a small laugh and a half smile from Weston, which was comforting, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little intimidated by the sheer amount of weapons on that rack.

"Nah, I hunt." He corrected me, but in my tipsy state, it still didn't quite compute.

"People?" I asked in an insecure voice as I gave him a skeptical eye.

That question elicited a big boom of laughter that rumbled from deep within Weston's chest and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the sound.

"Animals, sweetheart. I hunt animals. You know - deer, dove, quail, hogs?"

God you're an idiot Gracie...

"Of course." I said, laughing at my own stupidity as an awkward silence took over the room.

"So you gonna tell me your name or you just gonna steal all my towels?"

Strike three Gracie, you barged in the man's room, insulted him and didn't even introduce yourself.

"Gracelynn - but everyone just calls me Grace or Gracie... sounds less like a stripper or a farmer."

Good Lord did you just say that out loud Gracie?

"Well we wouldn't want anyone to mistake you for a farm stripper." Weston chuckled.

"Right? I mean of all the stripper genres I figure farm stripper might be the worst, you know with all the dirt and the hay..."

Holy shit stop talking Gracie, stop it right now!

Another loud booming laugh echoed from deep within Weston's chest, but as much as I enjoyed the sound, I was mortified by my own mouth that refused to stop moving as more and more words poured out before I could stop them.

"I'm Weston, but everybody calls me Wes." He said with a growing smile.

"Well I like your guns Wes." I said awkwardly trying to recover from insulting his room.

He folded his arms and arched a brow at me as he smirked at my words.

Crap, he thinks I'm talking about his arms.

"I mean the ones on your walls, not those." I motioned to his arms with my head.

Great now you insulted him again. For the love of God Gracie just stop talking.

"I mean! Those are fine too...they're great...I didn't mean... what I was trying to say was..."

I finally got a hold of my own mouth, pressing my lips together in an effort to shut myself up as I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could melt into the floor and disappear. When I opened my eyes, I craned my neck up at him as if I hadn't just spewed a trail of ridiculous insults and compliments at him and started over completely.

"Nice to meet you Wes. I'm a little bit drunk and my words are coming out of my mouth at an alarming rate, which means I should probably go."

My ramblings seemed to be amusing Weston, who looked down at me with a grin that made my knees weak.

"You can go if you want, but you've lost your damn mind if you think I'm gonna let you pick up that broken glass in the kitchen." He finally said, as he took the towels from my arms.

"I really don't mind." I said as I followed him out of his room and into the hall.

"That's sweet Gracie, but there's no way in hell I'm letting you touch broken glass - Ain't happening," He said definitively.

He sure is bossy, but I guess it is his house.

"Well at least let me help you mop up the spilled drinks." I offered eagerly.

My offer stopped him in his tracks and he turned over his shoulder and looked down at me with narrowed eyes as if he were studying me and my intentions. His smirk hadn't disappeared, but he bounced his eyes from my toes to my head as if he was trying to figure me out.

"You know you don't have you, you can go enjoy the party with Maggie and the rest of the girls." He said.

"I'm a helper, it's just who I am." I said with a shrug, telling him the absolute truth.

"Who are you trying to help exactly?" He asked, still eyeing me.

"You...Chad...Blake, take your pick." I said, not fully understanding his line of questioning.

"So it's not just for me?"

Oh now I understand, he thinks I'm trying to bribe him into bed through acts of service. Jeez give me a break big guy, you're dreamy, but you definitely aren't humble.

I cocked my hip to the side and folded my arms across my chest as I answered his question with a deadpan expression.

"No it's not just for you. I'm just a helpful person." I said flatly, unfolding one of my arms as I playfully snatched one of the towels from the pile.

We made our way through the crowds of people toward the kitchen, but as soon Weston passed the threshold that transitioned the carpet to tile, he held his arm out, stopping my forward motion.

"Stay on the carpet and let me get this glass picked up first." He instructed firmly.

Every helpful cell in my body wanted to join him on the floor as he carefully crouched down and picked up the dark brown shards of glass, but I fought against the urge once I heard the serious tone of his voice. It wasn't malicious or mean, nothing like the way Colt talks to me, but it was firm like it was meant to be obeyed.

Once all the large pieces were gone and in the trash, Weston ran his hand along the floor, searching for any small shards that had been left behind. A tiny piece must have lodged itself in his palm, because he growled slightly as he turned his palm up to his face and plucked out a piece of glass.

"Are you okay?" I asked, raising my foot to take a step toward him.

He shot his eyes toward my foot as if he were stopping it with his mind before looking up at me with a half smile that made me place my foot right back down on the carpet.

"I'm fine Gracie, it's just a little glass." He said as if it were no big deal, which was a big mistake.

"Well if it's just a little glass then let me help," I said happily, crossing the threshold and crouching down beside him.

He pushed out an irritated breath and huffed his shoulders up and down before chuckling to himself at my persistence.

"You're a stubborn little thing." He muttered under his breath as I started soaking up the spilled beer with the towels.

I didn't respond verbally, but I could feel the crooked smile that was pulling at the side of my mouth as we worked side by side to clean up the mess.

Pushing the towel with my hands something sharp nicked my finger as I pushed the towel closer to the cabinets.

"Ouch." I muttered quickly under my breath, bringing my hand closer to my face to inspect the small cut on my finger.

"Shit Gracie, I told you to wait." Weston said with concern in his voice as he leaned closer to me trying to get a look at my finger as well.

"It's nothing." I assured him, holding out my finger that had a tiny drop of blood sliding down the side.

"The glass still in there?" He asked, taking hold of my fingers and pulling them close as he squeezed and manipulated them.

Weston's scowl was deep and he was concentrating hard on my small fingers in his large, rough hands, but he wasn't angry he was...concerned.

This is new. He's not pissed. He's...worried?

Cocking my head to the side, I studied his facial expressions and body language just as hard as he was studying the small cut on my finger. He held on to my small fingers, manipulating them gently as if he were actively trying not to hurt me. It was a conscious effort on his part and it didn't go unnoticed.

How was it possible for someone to be as fierce and dominant as Weston had been, yet tender and gentle ten minutes later? He didn't have to be hateful and mean to be respected and it was a concept that completely took me off guard.

"What?" Weston asked, obviously catching me staring at him as my brain tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

"Nothing." I breathed out as I shook my head, breaking my own concentration and derailing my train of thought in the process.

My eyes searched for anything that I could focus on other than Weston's devastatingly handsome face. I scolded myself internally for staring and for enjoying the way my hand felt in his. That's not the kind of person I am and I hated myself for letting my mind wander to that place.

"Hey Gracie?" Maggie's voice carried over into the kitchen, pulling me from my own thoughts as I stood abruptly, jerking my hand away from Weston's hold.

"In here!" I answered, as I rinsed the blood from my fingers.

"Hey um, Colt's been blowing up your phone like... a lot." Maggie said with a worried expression on her face.

Shit. I thought my phone was in my pocket, but I guess I left it in the other room this whole time.

Multiple texts from Colt, Lee and Colin had flooded my phone and I read through them as fast as I could to try and get caught up to the situation that was happening at the strip club they had decided to go to.

"Everything okay?" Weston said as he straightened his large frame.

No.

"Yeah, but I've got to go." I answered, still reading.

"Go? Why?" Maggie whined.

"Colt got in a fight and got them all thrown out of a...bar. Apparently Colt is waiting outside for round two and Lee can't get him to leave." I said letting out an irritated breath as I scratched the back of my head.

Rolling my neck around, I tried to release some of my frustration and disappointment that I had to leave. Reality hit me hard when I realized that I'd rather send shards of glass into my hands than go pick up my boyfriend. How romantic is that?

I let out a long sigh and dried my hands with a paper towel as I got ready to leave.

"I hate that you have to leave Gracie. We just got here." Amanda groaned, clinging to my arm.

"Yeah well breaking up Colt's fights has become my new specialty," I joked with some pain in my voice that I hoped no one would catch on to.

"Whoa woah woah, you're going to break up a fight? You?" Weston arched an eyebrow at me and looked me over from head to toe as if he had to confirm that I was still tiny.

"Hey I'm tougher than I look." I sassed as I folded my arms over my chest in an effort to look bigger.

"Oh I have no doubt, but I'm not crazy about the idea of you getting in between two drunk assholes that are hell bent on getting physical." Weston said, looking over at Blake and Chad who nodded in agreement.

"Let one of us go with you Gracie," Blake offered.

Oh no that would not go over well with Colt. I can't even imagine how he'd react if I showed up to pick him up with another guy in the car. He'd never let me live that down. Nope. That's not happening.

"Really guys it's okay. I'm used to it." I said softly, realizing that my statement of reassurance wasn't reassuring to them in the least.

"You shouldn't be." Amanda sassed, clearly annoyed and angry with the way the Colt treated me and I couldn't blame her.

"Amanda." I said her name breathlessly, knowing that she had ever right to be upset.

"No, you know what, I've had a few drinks and I have some things to say." Amanda said, puffing out her chest and rising to a standing position as she faced off against me.

Great. Go ahead and unload Sis, I can take it.

"He doesn't treat you right Gracie. You deserve better, but you continue to allow him to drag you down. He's an anchor, Grace and he's eventually going to pull you down until he drowns you both." Amanda's words hit me in the gut and knotted my stomach because they were true, but I wished like hell she hadn't said them in front of so many people.

I felt my cheeks heat under the gaze of everyone around us as they watched Amanda's outburst and watched me take every word without reacting.

I know you're right Amanda, but I'm just...scared.

"Are you finished?" I asked calmly.

"Yes." Amanda hissed.

"Okay. I hear you Mandy. Really I do, but it's...it's more complicated than you think." I said, oversimplifying my current situation as I turned to leave.

Clutching my phone in my shaking hands, I called up an uber and waited outside by the curb, wrapping my other arm tightly around my body to try and keep warm in the cool night air.

"Gracie wait," a deep voice sounded from behind me, pulling my attention back toward the house just in time to see Weston jogging over toward me.

Great, what now? How else could I embarrass myself in front of you tonight Weston?

"Listen I don't know shit about your situation, but from what I heard in there...just...call me if you need me okay? Can you do that?" He asked, grabbing hold of the top of my phone to see if I would be willing to hand it to him.

Giving him a nod of my head, I relented, letting go of my phone to allow him to call his own number and save his name in my contacts. He handed my phone back to me and I tried to control my trembling hands as I grasped it and tucked it under my arms as I wrapped myself up.

"Seriously Gracie, call me if you need me. You don't need to be going around town, breaking up drunken fights.

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