by Jessica Berg
“Where do you think I learned them?”
Her throat worked around oncoming tears. “When did you get out of the Marines?”
“Right after Carmen’s death. With Lilly, I had no other options. Her parents had passed away a year before we even met, a car accident. My own parents had no inclination to take on raising Lilly. They were dedicated to traveling the country in their RV.” He swirled his finger on the rim of his wine glass. “Besides, I wanted to raise her. She was mine. The only thing I had left in the entire world.”
“Do you miss it?”
“No. I came back to Beacon, bought my parents’ house, and have dedicated my life to building a new life for Lilly. One of stability.” His gaze locked with hers. “A family.”
She swallowed. Hard. A family. The only thing she ever wanted, the one thing stolen from her for years. “Lilly might need a woman’s touch. At least, so she knows how to do your hair.”
He patted at his head. Winced. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”
“It looks adorable.”
“You said it looked dangerous.”
“Adorably dangerous.”
He scowled. “You’re not helping.”
She finished off her spaghetti, sucking in the last inch of the noodle. “That was never my intention.”
“And what is?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Her insides blazed with heat at his smoldering gaze. It was a pleasure to burn.
“Trust me. I will.” Her tongue darted out, traced her upper lip at his husky promise. Her phone buzzed. Cursing the device, she snuck a peek at the text. “Well, it is possible to use the word ‘stupid’ and ‘love’ in one text, in case you’re curious.”
“Noah has redeemed himself?”
“Apparently catching fireflies and eating s’mores makes Phoebe’s heart do, and I quote, ‘weird, ishy things,’ unquote.”
“Sounds like indigestion to me.”
Grace coughed on her wine. Took another sip to ease the burning. “And this is one of the many reasons I love you.”
“I knew my witty personality would someday win you over.”
“That and your humming skills.”
“Is that all?”
“For now.” She bit her lip and painstakingly typed out a text to Phoebe. Leave me alone. Enjoy the fireflies and s’mores. Eat one for me. “There, we won’t be interrupted—” Her phone buzzed again, a text lit up. Eat a firefly?
“Do you have any sisters?”
“Nope. Afraid not. Missed out on that pleasure.”
“Don’t be. Sisters are dumb.” She stomped out a return text. A firefly? Really? Leave me alone. I mean it. Turning her phone off, she shoved it in her horrible excuse for a purse. “Where were we?”
“You were listing off all the things you find irresistible about me.”
“Shouldn’t take too long.”
He dipped his fingers in his water glass and flicked it at her. She reciprocated the gesture. A throat cleared above them. The waiter, a stuffy looking young man who obviously never had a fun time in his life, stared at her as if she’d sprouted horns.
She pointed at Dominick. “He started it.”
Fun-Hating Waiter slid a glance at Dominick and back at her. Would she get kicked out for sticking her tongue out at him? He handed Dominick the check and marched off in the direction of better-behaved patrons.
They held onto their laughter until they cleared the front door. Dominick hoisted her in the air and smacked a noisy kiss to her lips. “You, Spitfire, are amazing.” He slid her down his body, and when her toes barely touched the ground, he pressed her to him and whispered into her hair. “I love you.”
She nestled those words in her heart and nestled her head on his shoulder all the way back to Beacon.
Chapter 24
“Ready?”
“Do I have a choice?” Grace latched on to Dominick’s hand as he hooked a left by a mailbox painted with wild mustangs. She snuck a glance at Phoebe cuddled next to Noah in the backseat of Dominick’s pickup. They’d been on the road for hours, anticipation and dread making the miles seem longer.
“We could turn back now, and consider this an epic road trip. We never did stop to see the largest tea set in the world,” Phoebe chirped from the backseat.
“No, Pheebs, we need to do this. For us. Before the grand opening, we need to put our past to rest.” She glanced at her hands, thankful the gauze bandages kept getting smaller and her wounds kept getting better. Her twice-a-week therapy sessions were making a world of difference, and she was stronger every day. Occasionally she’d wake up with Phoebe’s arms around her, shushing her screams from nightmares of Leo’s attack. Those nights, she’d fall asleep in her sister’s arms. She reached back, hunted for Phoebe’s hands.
“Does Mom know we’re coming.”
Grace’s stomach churned with the same trepidation leeching through her sister’s voice. “Yeah. She seemed pretty excited. As excited as she can sound, I should say.”
“Are we saying anything about Leo?”
“No. Sheriff Clarkson contacted Detective Landry. Dad’s case is now closed, but the less she knows, the better. Besides, I’m not sure she’d believe us concerning her much-beloved boy-toy.”
Phoebe groaned. “I can’t believe we turned out as normal as we did.”
Grace flicked Dominick a sideways glance when he choked on a laugh. “Care to say what you’re thinking out loud?”
“No, ma’am, not a bit.”
Noah chuckled from the back seat and grunted with what Grace assumed was Phoebe’s elbow connecting with his ribcage.
The fencepost Grace had driven into coming home late one night from a high school party she should have never attended still bowed in disgrace. A quarter of a mile until the ranch house would make its grand debut. Her nerves formed into a ball in her stomach and expanded until she wasn’t sure she could breathe. When she’d fled home, she never intended on returning, the pain too intense. She wasn’t sure she could handle it now.
There is was, in all its wooden glory. Logs glistening in the late afternoon sun, the windows winking with orange light. Her heart leaped, but not with fear or trepidation, but with joy.
“I forgot how breathtaking it was,” Phoebe whispered.
No words would squeak past the lump in Grace’s throat. Scrappy ponderosa pines surrounding the sides of the house marched from the backyard up to the mountains behind it waving their branches in the high plains breeze. The lawn, brown with brittle grass, gave witness to the area’s drought. But beauty existed there too. Memories of playing catch with her father, the times they’d fallen to the ground in a fit of laughter.
A football field away from the house, the horse stables still stood in crisp red and white, the exercise yard stretching behind them, white fences gleaming in the sun. A few equine heads bobbed in greeting, their hooves stomping the ground at the visitors. As soon as the truck rocked to park, Grace shot from her seat and ran to the fencing, whistling her father’s trademark whistle.
Around the corner came the only horse she wanted to see. Scout trotted to the fence, his velvety nose snuffling her outstretched hand. He pressed into the gauze, snuffled some more until he found her fingers, her scent. He pressed his face into her palm. Resting her forehead to the star formation on his own, she smoothed her hands over his yellow-buttery hide.
“Hey, big boy. How’ve you been?”
Scout wuffled, his nostrils flaring.
“I miss him too.” She caressed his ears. “Phoebe avenged him, though. Maybe you should give her a carrot for being a good girl.”
His ears twitched at the mention of a carrot. Sensing something new, he flared his ears back. Dominick slid an arm around Grace’s waist.
“Dominick, meet Scout, my dad’s pride and joy. Scout, meet Dominick, my joy.”
Dominick kissed her hair and extended a palms-up hand to Scout still eyeing him. Only after Grace’s reassurances and several c
aresses to the nose, did Scout allow Dominick to touch him.
“You’re late.”
Grace cringed at her mother’s scolding. Even though a hundred yards took the sting off the volume, the tone never wavered. She patted Scout’s cheek. “See you later, big boy. Maybe we’ll go for a ride.”
She grabbed Dominick’s hand, held on for dear life, and trudged the distance to the wrap-around log porch. “Hey, Mom.”
“Why are you late?” Her mother, still beautiful, still smelling of scotch, still looked through Grace. It was a gift from God that Phoebe inherited their mother’s beauty and none of the personality.
“It’s good to see you too.” She ignored her mother’s raised eyebrows. “Mother, this is Dominick Carson, my boyfriend. Dominick, this is my mother, Delilah Wallace.”
“Well, this will be awkward.” Her mother offered her hand to Dominick.
“Why will it be—”
“Gracie, my love.”
Her heart dropped to her feet. Or at least she wished it had, then she could grab it and run for the hills, escape into her old haunts, forget the man before her ever existed. For the man before her, spouting his declarations of love, was the last man she ever wanted to see. “Kevin.”
Before she could evade his descending mouth, he bussed her cheek with a wet kiss. Dominick tensed beside her. Was it too much to ask for military spy man to place a well-meaning punch to ex-hubby’s face? When Dominick’s fists remained locked at his side, she assumed the answer was yes.
Kevin’s long black mane of hair was still curled into a man bun, his green eyes still as green as Ireland, the dip in his chin still as prominent. She had fallen hard for his looks, the frosting of charm, only to discover when she’d bit into it all that the inside wasn’t even cake. Her skin flushed. It had taken her too long to realize she’d married frosting-covered crap.
“It is good to see you again.” His voice still oozed sex. “You look stunning, as always. Delilah informed me of your visit.” He traced a finger across her hand, his fingers catching on the gauze. “Shall we go for a ride later. We can go to our favorite spot. The last time we—”
Dominick stuck his hand out in introduction. “Dominick Carson. Nice to meet you. Who are you again?”
Kevin blinked, shook Dominick’s hand, winced. “Kevin McIntyre. Grace’s husband—”
“Ex,” she ground out.
“Right. Technically, although I still feel married to her in my heart.”
Grace wanted to gag, heard Phoebe actually gag from behind her.
“Ah, the little sister. Phoebe, it’s been too long.” His bussing kiss missed her cheek when she ducked out of the way.
“Not long enough,” Phoebe muttered loud enough to receive a glare from her mother.
“Well, let’s go inside. You’ve all had a long drive, I’m sure. Kansas is so far away.”
Grace opened her mouth to correct her mother, remind her the states shared a border but snapped her mouth shut. If her mother failed geography in high school, there was no hope for her now.
The exterior of the house had risen Grace’s hopes that not much had changed. The interior failed to keep up the illusion. Gone was the rustic. In its place, fluffy things, modern things, clashed with the rough-hewn logs. She liked pink, but there were limits to the amount of pink in a house. Especially a log home, cut from timbers from their land.
She traipsed into the kitchen, which had miraculously escaped the modern pink invasion, and hopped onto a bar stool, resting her elbows on the breakfast island.
Her mother flicked her elbows. “We have company, dear.”
She ignored the “dear.” Settled her elbows firmly on the granite countertop. “What we have is a situation. Why on earth would you invite him?” she hissed.
“Kevin has been the solace in my time of need. I have not heard from my Andrew. Both of us know what it’s like to be left, our hearts broken.” Her mother whispered back, her hands clutching the familiar rock glass full of amber liquid.
Grace snorted. “I’m not even sure Kevin has a heart.”
“Shush, he will hear you.” Delilah flicked a gaze at Kevin, who was showing off a house that was never and would never be his.
“I don’t care if the entire county hears me.” She grasped at her mother’s hand. “Do you not care what he did to me? That he was the one who broke my heart?”
“You were always one to exaggerate. You got that from your father.” Her gaze landed on Grace’s auburn hair, her eyes. “You got too much from your father.”
“Did Detective Landry get a hold of you about Dad?”
“Yes.” She took a sip from the shaking glass, the ice cubes clinking. “It’s about time too. Maybe I can be left alone now.” Her hand clawed around the glass. Her knuckles drained of color.
Grace bit her cheek. Tasted blood. “Did you change your mind about selling the place?”
“No. Now that Andrew has disappeared, left me, I will put it up for sale again.”
“I’ll buy it.” Did I really say those words out loud?
“Pardon me?”
“This place is more mine than yours. You’ve always hated it. I love it. Sell it to me.”
“And what would you do with it?”
Grace had no idea. Her life was in Beacon. Her business was ripe for the grand opening in two weeks. “Please don’t sell it before talking to me. Please.”
An emotion she never thought her mother possessed flickered over her face. It lasted mere seconds. “Very well.” A smile stamped on her face as the rest joined them in the kitchen. “Ah, here you are. I was about to send a search party out for you. Care for drinks?”
Grace slipped out as her mother oozed a greeting to Noah. She needed escape, solitude, and knew where to find it.
“Mind if I join you?” Dominick stilled her hands as she tightened the saddle’s girth around Scout’s belly.
“I would love nothing more.” She leaned against him for a second. “I’ll saddle Lightning for you.”
“Is this some trick where you give me the naughty horse and watch me get bucked to the ground?”
“Nope. For that, I’d offer Kevin Eeyore and watch the drama unfold.”
“You have a horse named Eeyore?” He followed as she led him to a stall at the far end of the stable.
“Meet Eeyore.” Eeyore, apparently not a fan of them, flicked his ears back and pawed the straw with his hooves. “My father had an ironic sense of humor.”
“I don’t think I want to ride him.”
“Nope. Only one person could ever do that and barely. And my father almost got killed twice by him.”
“Why not get rid of him. Sell him?”
“He’s a highly sought after stud.” Eeyore reared back when she reached out to pet his nose. “Although, I think he’s too much trouble.” She crooned to the midnight black, “Careful boy, I hear the Elmer’s factory is looking for volunteers.”
The horse eyed her and turned his back end to them.
“Should have named him Jackass.” She shook her head. “Reminds me of Kevin.”
Dominick halted her steps in front of a different stall. “I need to know. Do you …” He jammed a hand through his hair. “Do you have any feelings left for him? He seems to still—”
She shut him up with a heated kiss, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Does that answer your question?”
“Maybe. I might need more convincing.”
She obliged. Minutes passed, her mind numbed with pleasure, his hands traveled down her back, finally resting on the top of her jeans, pulling her into him. She jumped back when an invading nose impaled her armpit.
“And this is Lightning.” Lightning snuffled at Dominick, prodded his arm with an invasive nose.
“She’s in love with you already.”
“I do have that effect on the ladies.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Oh, and she’s a jealous type. If she catches on that you are riding any other horse, she will hat
e you forever.”
Dominick stepped away from the creeping nostrils snuffling at his chest. “Are you the jealous type?”
“You don’t want to find out.” She opened the stall door, led the white mare from the stall, and saddled her.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Dominick touched the tip of the mare’s ear.
“Lightning loves having her rump rubbed. If you want to make quick friends with her.”
Her fingers played over her arm as he pinned her with a hot gaze. “Isn’t she already putty in my hands?”
“A little rubbing never hurts.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” His hands smoothed Lightning’s hide.
It was stupid to be jealous of a horse, yet here she was wishing it was her skin he was caressing.
She gave a final tug on the girth. “You might need to readjust the stirrups. Why don’t you hop up there.”
With smooth motions, he sat in the saddle. She readjusted for his long legs. “Perfect.”
Stepping into a stirrup with her left leg, she swung her right leg over Scout and nestled into the saddle. He danced sideways. “I know, big boy, we’ll go for a run.”
She led the way out of the yard, allowing Scout to pick his way over the overgrown trail weaving its way through the dark green pines and the white bark of aspen trees. The gelding quivered with excitement, his hide flickering and shivering.
“He wants to run.” She glanced back at Dominick, his body fluid and one with Lightning’s movements. “Coming up over the rise is a meadow. My dad and I used to race across it.” Scout shied at a movement to the side of the trail. She smoothed a hand over his mane. “It’s okay, buddy. Just a squirrel.”
“Who won?”
“I did. Although I suspect he let me win every time.” Her heart clutched. This meadow is also where he died. Gunned down by a coward. But the coward had a face now, a name, and was dead. Those facts chipped away at the cement block in her chest.
