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did when she wore a baseball cap. But this guy looked tousled. She bet he always looked that good. Boy , that was annoying. 
    So she continued, “A little less than half of all motorcycle deaths involve only the motorcyclist.”
    Tox almost smiled—she could tell he did. “How do you know all this?” 
    Years of worrying about Samantha and her stupid motorcycle which she finally sold for drug money before she got clean the last time. 
    “I know stuff.” 
    “How are you feeling?” 
    Oh. Tox was checking up on her. “You probably want your inhaler back. Hang on, it’s inside.” 
    He raised a hand. “I’m fine. I have more of them. Keep it.” 
    “You didn’t have to come here.” It came out more gracelessly than she would have liked. “I mean, thank you so much. The way you helped me on Friday—twice—was great. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. But I’m happy to take care of myself, and I know what to do for difficulty breathing.” 
    “You’re going to stick needles in yourself?” Tox looked horrified. 
    “With that,” she said, “and the right herbs, I’ll be right as rain in no time.” 
    “Oh. Well.” He ran his hand through his hair again. 
    Grace wished he would stop doing that. It was distracting. 
    “Anyway,” she said pointedly. “Thanks.” 
    “It was nice to see your sister.” 
    Ah, that was the game, then. It had been a long time since Grace had needed to fend off guys at the front door, but she remembered it well. “It’s good to have her back in town.” 
    “Must be.” 
    Grace waited, cupping her tea in her hands. He would follow up with a request for Sam’s phone number or at the very least a query about her relationship status. 
    “Coffee’s a good thing to have,” he said, pointing at her mug. Was he uncomfortable? Why was he shifting from one foot to the other like that?
    “I drink tea.” 
    “Huh. Why?”
    “Lower cortisol response.” That was the truth of it, but actually, she still had a cup of coffee or two in the mornings. She hadn’t been able to cut herself off yet. 
    “Okay…”
    Grace finally took pity on him. “Can I help you with something? Do you need to check the air conditioner? Because a friend of mine is in HVAC and he came in on Saturday. I got a whole new unit. It’s quieter than the last unit, but I can show you if you need me to.” 
    “I was actually…” 
    She waited again. Whatever he wanted to say, it was something he didn’t really like. She could read it in the way he held his eyes, tight and careful, and the way his mouth was folded, as if he’d tasted something sour. And heck. Even with his mouth pressed that way, he still had a sexy mouth. Fine, strong lips. 
    Grace jerked herself back to the present. She nodded in what she hoped was an encouraging way. “So…”
    “Can you stick some of those needles in me?” 
    “Pardon?” She must not have heard him right.
    He looked even more pained. “I got a gift certificate. I’m supposed to…” 
    “Oh! Lexie! I saw that come through online.” 
    Tox nodded. “One time she made me do a sweat lodge with her. All I got was a headache from the smoke. She gets me into the most stupid crap.” 
    “Wow,” said Grace.
    His eyes widening, he hurried to say, “No, I don’t mean…That’s not what…” 
    Grace laughed. “It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with a skeptic. And I’m sure it won’t be the last. Come on in. I’ve got some paperwork I need you to fill out.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Tox sat in a comfortable and probably ergonomically correct red foam chair in the outer office. It was a pretty room, done up in red and yellow and lots of green. There must have been twenty plants in the small front room alone, their vines twisting around each other. Small purple blooms warred with clusters of white. How did someone get flowers to grow inside like that? 
    Grace hadn’t been kidding about the paperwork. Tox