Free From This Moment On: Heartwarming Contemporary Romance (Windswept Bay Book 1) by Debra Clopton Page A

for the snap on his shorts but closed his eyes for a moment and then fell against the covers.
    This happened sometimes, when the work flowed like lava in a slow, burning rush that couldn’t be stopped. But never had it taken everything he had.
    He closed his eyes and slept.
     

Chapter Nine
    Cali wasn’t sure what to do. When Grant had handed her the paintbrush and walked past her, he’d looked drained. She wasn’t sure whether this was normal for him or not. It wasn’t normal at all but then, she’d never been around an artist and maybe it was normal.
    But, again, it wasn’t normal to her. And she was completely not making sense as she thought about how he’d looked. How he’d acted. All she knew was that she was concerned. And she needed to make sure he was okay.
    Shar walked over and plucked the paintbrush from her hand. “That wasn’t normal.”
    Leave it to Shar to say what she was thinking. “No. You’re right—it wasn’t.”
    “I’ll clean this up. You need to go check on him. He looked like he’d been up for days when he walked by here. And Cali, he looked like he was in pain.”
    “Yes, he did,” Jillian agreed, coming down the stairs to where they stood. “Here, go check on him. I grabbed the master key in case you need it.” She pushed it into Cali’s hand.
    “Wait, why me?”
    “Oh please.” Shar glared at her. “You should see yourself in the mirror. You’re worried sick and you know good and well why it’s you who needs to check on the man.”
    “Fine,” she growled and headed for the elevator. She wasn’t sure what Shar thought she saw in her expression but it was simply concern. That was all.
    When she reached the fourth floor, she walked to his door and knocked lightly. There was no answer. Maybe he was in the shower. Unable to help herself, needing to make sure he hadn’t passed out on the floor from exhaustion, she used the key and slipped inside. The first thing she saw was his shirt on the floor. She hesitated, her heart thundering. She should go. But, she had to make sure he was in bed and not sprawled on the floor passed out.
    “Grant,” she called softly. There was no sound, so she peeked into the room. He lay flat on his back, his feet still touching the floor.
    Aw… Something she didn’t want to think too hard about curled inside her and, unable to stop herself, she leaned down and tenderly brushed a dark curl from his forehead. She stayed there, peering down at him. Even in sleep, weariness remained etched around his eyes and pulled at the edges of his lips. She wondered whether sleep was hard for him since the plane crash that cost him his friends. Wondered how much he hurt inside where no one could see. She reached to touch him but yanked her hand back just in time, rubbing her fingers on her thigh instead of along the sun-etched lines at the edges of his eyes. His beautiful eyes.
    With a jerk, she stepped back. She needed to leave.
    He was breathing easy, calmly, peacefully. Exactly what he needed right now.
    She needed to leave.
    Swallowing hard, she stepped back another step and then remembered his feet were still touching the floor. She couldn’t leave him like that. She touched her temple, tapped it as if checking to see whether she had a brain. Proving she didn’t, she knelt and grasped his ankle and then eased his Nikes off. He sighed and her stomach dipped. Hurrying, she removed the other. He grunted; she glanced at him, not wanting to wake him now to find her kneeling at the edge of his bed!
    Tempted to duck and crawl away, she realized if he woke that would be even more weird so she shot to her feet.
    Leave now .
    But no. Instead, she reached across him, grasped the coverlet and pulled it across him. His hand moved and covered hers. Her gaze locked onto his, but he was still sleeping. She could barely breathe, much less think, as his fingers curled around her hand and drew up to his cheek as he rolled to his side, facing away from her. The move had