Coming Home (The Santa Monica Trilogy Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

too reluctant to engage in any confrontation. Rather than argue or stand in her way, he’d simply let her go.
    In the past, she’d thought that was because he cared more about his precious career than about her. But in light of today’s conversation, she could see how that assessment wasn’t necessarily the full story.
    Yes, he was arrogant, and occasionally insensitive. When it came to communication, he could certainly use a few lessons. In the end, though, he wasn’t the villain in the story, any more than she was.
    So why couldn’t she quell the anxiety that had been her near-constant companion for months? At least long enough to follow through on this physical attraction, which despite the intervening years and distance, hadn’t faded?
    It was irrational, and yet there it was, looming between them like an unwelcome chaperone.
    She wondered if she’d ever get past this. In all likelihood, if and when she did, Logan would have moved on to someone who didn’t tense up every time he came near. She ignored the pain that thought triggered.
    “Here,” he said, handing the iPhone back to her. “After tonight, my evenings are free for the rest of the week.”
    The words were out before she could bite them back. “What’s tonight?”
    “Have dinner with me,” he grinned, “and I’ll tell you.”

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    The following morning, Grace nearly made it out of the house before her grandmother’s voice called to her from the dining room. 
    Sighing, she turned back. “Yes, Grandma?”
    “Aren’t you going to have breakfast?” Ruth King sat at the massive mahogany table, the Sunday paper spread out beside a plate of congealing eggs and toast. A front-wheeled walker stood within easy reach.
    Grace could hear the housekeeper moving around in the kitchen—the sound of running water, the clatter of silverware and dishes.
    “I’ll grab something later,” she said. “I want to go running before it gets hot.”
    “You have a hat?”
    “Right here.” She pulled on an old baseball cap that she’d grabbed from the back of her closet, and threaded her pony tail through the opening at the back.
    “Sunscreen?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    It was going to take some getting used to, this living under her grandparents’ roof again. As an adult, she’d gotten used to the freedom of not having to account to anyone for her whereabouts. If it weren’t so amusing, Grace would probably be annoyed at her grandmother’s attempt to keep tabs on her. As if she were still the same adolescent who’d moved out more than a dozen years ago.
    The fact was, the balance of power had shifted in the intervening years, though her grandmother had yet to acknowledge that. Grace tried not to be impatient. It was no doubt hard to be left widowed at eighty, to have the health and independence you’d taken for granted suddenly curtailed by a hip fracture. Going from ruling the country club set to relying on your housekeeper for assistance with activities of daily living had to be a difficult adjustment. Grace didn’t want to compound the situation by insisting on an immediate redrawing of  boundaries. Eventually they would have to work out some new rules to govern their relationship, but Grace was willing to wait a bit. Give herself a chance to settle in. Give her grandmother time to adjust to the changed reality.
    In the meantime, Grace had other things to focus on.
    Completing her residency and transitioning into a clinical faculty position, for one thing.
    Figuring out what to do about Logan, for another.
    As she picked up her pace along the familiar dirt path that ran alongside the Brentwood Country Club, Grace felt a surge of optimism on both fronts.
    Too bad she hadn’t anticipated the past catching up with her and throwing a monkey wrench into her well-laid plans.
     
    ###
     
    It happened during the first group therapy session she was scheduled to co-facilitate. They had gotten through the introductory remarks, established the