by Sky, JoAnn
“On you? Never. Just making sure you don’t want to go out to dinner. Lucky Lady’s just opened a new barbeque place. I hear it’s great. Plus, you deserve a night out.”
How sweet. Freaky sweet. The old Sam was never sweet.
“Downtown Reno?” Grace sighed. “Honestly, I’m not in the mood for the casino scene.” And even if I was, since Noah’s MIA, I don’t have anyone to watch JJ. “I’m actually looking forward to a nice, quiet dinner here.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “You need me to pick anything up on my way over?”
She glanced at her watch. Crap, it was already five. She had to get dinner started plus take a shower. She smelled like attic junk and probably looked worse than a dust bunny. “Fresh bread would be great.”
“You got it, babe.”
Babe? Her tummy quivered. She squashed the feeling with a deep breath. It was only dinner. Saving the ranch was worth it.
“Uh, anyone else coming?” he asked.
“I think Noah has plans, and JJ’s not feeling well so he’ll probably stay in his room.”
“That’s too bad.” Sam’s voice sounded anything but sorry. “See you soon.”
“That was the best crab cake I’ve ever had, Grace. Too bad JJ didn’t feel like eating.”
Grace forced a smile. Yeah, too bad, though Sam had had no problem eating JJ’s portion. She finished her wine and watched as he meticulously dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin.
“Allow me.” He set aside his napkin and picked up the half-empty bottle of wine. A thunderclap echoed in the distance. Raindrops pelted the windows.
Grace waved her hand, motioning him not to fill her glass. “I think I’m okay.”
“Just a little more,” Sam said. “We don’t want to waste it.” He was right, that would be stupid. He filled her glass then his.
The evening had gone well. He’d been a perfect gentleman, while droning on and dropping names, bragging about his business deals. His business was a huge part of his life, that much was obvious. He was pretty mum about his personal life. Something told her he didn’t have much of one. Grace watched him swirl his wine.
“I’ve got to say, Grace, I was surprised when you offered to cook dinner.”
So was I. “Come on, we’ve known each other a long time.”
“Funny how things turn out. I thought for sure you and Noah would’ve patched things up during this visit of yours.” He shrugged. “Can’t say I’m torn up about it.”
Just the mention of Noah’s name made guilt creep into her stomach. Totally outrageous, since this dinner was mostly for his benefit. Time to get down to business. “Do you have any contacts in the coin collection business?”
The swirling stopped. “Why do you ask?”
She’d dealt with fashion industry consultants and knew not to show her hand too soon. “I’ve been cleaning out stuff, you know, just my father’s junk, and came across a few items. I’d like to get more info.” Grace shrugged. “You know, to make sure I’m not getting taken advantage of when I sell them.”
“You, taken advantage of?” His lips twisted. “I wouldn’t let that happen.” He rested his hand over hers, and while his words were in jest, his eyes looked hopeful.
She shouldn’t be doing this. He was lonely, and she was taking advantage of it.
Grace slid her hand out from his and reached for his empty dish. “Let me take that for you.” She walked to the counter, dish in one hand, her wine glass in the other. “And get you some water.” She placed the dishes in the sink, removed two plastic cups from the cupboard, filled them with water, and chugged one down.
“I could take a look for you. I was a novice coin collector in my youth. Bet you didn’t know that about me.”
She set down her empty cup. “I think I need a professional.”
“Just your father’s junk, huh?”
What the heck. Sam was harmless, and he had good contacts. “Okay, maybe more than junk.” She looked over at him. “Maybe lots more, dollar-wise. Enough to change everything.” She couldn’t help the grin spreading over her face.
Sam eyed her for a moment, then took out his phone. “Yeah, I know a guy. He’s good, and you can trust him.” He scrolled through his contacts. A second later, Grace’s phone beeped. “There’s his number.”
“Thanks.” Now for the ranch. “I need your help on something else. What if I’ve changed my mind and decided to keep the ranch? With your position at the bank, there must be something you could do to help.” She gave him her best doe eyes. A little flirting couldn’t hurt. She bit her lip and waited.
Sam’s eyes widened just slightly. He grabbed Grace’s plate from the table. “There might be something I could do.” He stood up, wobbled, and balanced himself before carrying the dish over to her. “You got a few weeks still, but if you need a bit more, maybe I could lose your paperwork, you know, just long enough for you to settle things up and get your property current.”
She handed him the glass of water and took the plate from him, then turned to place it in the sink on top of the other one. “More time would definitely help. A payment plan would be even better—”
“But I’d have to be highly motivated.” His breath in her ear and the brush of his body against her back made her drop the plate.
“Hey.” Grace elbowed Sam and whipped around, knocking his cup to the ground. Water spilled everywhere.
Sam stepped back. “I’m sorry, Grace…” Sam stumbled against the table, knocking down a chair and shattering a wine glass.
“What the hell is going on here?” Noah stood in the middle of the kitchen, rain soaked from head to toe, chest heaving, eyes blazing.
Sam struggled to his feet. Grace rushed to help him. “Nothing, Noah. Nothing but dinner.” She helped Sam stand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Glaring at Noah, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
Noah scowled at Sam. “Get. Out. Now.”
Sam straightened his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at Grace. “Thanks for dinner, dear. Be careful, your time’s running out.”
“Sam, you don’t have to leave.”
Sam shrugged, then nodded at Noah. “Good luck at the auction.” He pushed on the screen door and muttered all the way down the stairs.
As soon as Sam was gone, Grace turned toward Noah, ready to lay into him. He started first. “What was he doing here? What the hell is going on?”
“Dinner, just like I said. What the hell is going on with you? I was just trying to help. Trying to renegotiate the terms for the ranch.” A good plan poorly executed. No, her execution was fine. Noah barging in is where it went off the rails.
“You can’t control everything, Noah. I was trying to convince Sam to help.”
“Yeah, he seemed very helpful.”
She gave him the stink eye. “It was dinner, only dinner. And then you come in here and muck it all up. You’ve probably mucked up your chances at the auction now, too.” She raised her hands in disgust. “I was doing it for you.”
“For me?” He stalked toward her until he stood mere inches in front of her. “You made dinner for that slimeball, invited him alone with you, for me, into our house?”
Our house? They both heard the words. Both felt them reverberate through the air and bounce against the walls. Our. House. What was it? His house, her house, our house…did it matter? He was so close. Chest heaving with anger—or was it? Eyes burning with a look she recognized from years past. A look she’d missed. A look she’d burned into her soul.
No, it didn’t matter whose house. The only thing that mattered was him being here with her. She didn’t want to think about the ranch, her job, today, tomorrow. She just wanted, needed, to touch him, taste him. She reached out and grabbed onto his arms. “Please, Noah, just kiss me.”
This time, he didn’t hold back. He captured her lips with his. Then he wove his fingers through her hair
and deepened the kiss, asking for more. She gave it, meeting each demand with her own plundering tongue. His lips dragged across her cheek, nibbled along her chin to her ear. A hunger built inside her, growing, growing. She pushed into him, rubbed against him. She wasn’t close enough.
She wanted to crawl into his skin, but the closest she could get was her chest against his chest, her hips against his hips, her skin against his… She leaned back and whipped off her tank. He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tugged it over his head, then pulled her into him. Skin against skin. Smooth, hard, burning. She ran her hands over his shoulders, wider than she remembered, more sculpted. Still familiar.
His hands slid up her bare stomach, slowly, slowly, to her ribs, his palms soon gliding over the fabric of her bra. She shuddered. He reached around, fumbled with her bra clasp, released it. The straps slid down her arms, and he took the scrap of lace and dropped it to the floor. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers teasing the underside of her breasts.
Sensation exploded through her veins. Grace moaned and tilted her head back, exposing her neck, the prey surrendering to her cougar. He closed his mouth over her throat. His teeth grazed her skin. Goose bumps prickled down her neck to her spine.
He pushed her back until her butt touched the edge of the kitchen table, then hiked her skirt up past the tops of her thighs. He eased her onto the cool wood, his warm body’s weight on hers, his tongue a tender invasion in her mouth, his hand cradling the back of her head. She slid her fingers into the waist of his jeans, smiling when he groaned.
His fingertips trailed down her neck, skimmed along her side. For a second, she felt his knuckles moving against her navel. Dimly she heard the snap and zip of his jeans. She grabbed his belt loops and tugged down, exposing a few more inches of hard muscle.
Noah stiffened, pulled back, and looked toward the hall.
“What?” Her voice came out gravelly, steeped in passion.
“I thought I heard something.”
JJ. Not good.
“Take me to bed, Noah.”
His eyes, smoky blue, held hers. “Are you sure?”
She was sure. She’d never been more positive about anything as she was about Noah, right here, right now. “Yes.”
He slid his hand under her back and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her to the bedroom.
Chapter Eighteen
When the rooster crowed the next morning, Gracie simply turned over and curled into Noah. He stared at the beautiful woman next to him. The woman who’d insisted it was too late for them. The woman who’d built a wall as tall as the California Redwoods around herself. The woman who planned to run back to New York because she wanted more than this land, more than this town. More than him.
That hadn’t been the woman in his bed last night.
He’d explored, tasted, touched every inch of her body, and she’d met him point for point, open and eager. And trusting. This morning he was physically exhausted and emotionally drained, and still he wanted more. He pulled her closer, spooning her back, snuggling in.
Waking up in the tangled bed sheets with Gracie was both amazing and alarming for the same reason: he still loved her—and he still didn’t know what the hell he was going to do about it.
Last night had changed everything. Hadn’t it? Then again, Gracie had told Noah she’d been trying to renegotiate the ranch for him, not them. He’d seen the surprise on her face when he said “our house.” But maybe that’s what had finally gotten through to her. Because the wall came down. His Gracie had come back, at least for one night. Could he convince her to make it more than one? Could he convince her to make it forever?
He slid out of bed, threw on his clothes, and grabbed his boots. He scratched his fingers through his hair as he tiptoed into the kitchen.
JJ came through the door with a basket of eggs. Noah froze. How would he explain his absence the last day and a half, and now his presence in the house this early?
The boy’s face broke into a large smile when he saw Noah. “You’re back.” JJ looked at Noah’s hand. “Why did you walk over without putting your boots on?”
Thank God for distractions.
“I guess I’m still sleepy. Want to ride down to the Stop-n-Gas with me to get some cinnamon buns? We can surprise Gracie.”
JJ put the eggs on the counter, then looked down at the floor, squirming in his tennis shoes. “If she likes this surprise, can we ask her if I can stay here, just for the summer? I…I can’t go now, Noah. I can’t, I can’t.” He started rocking.
Something had happened while Noah was camped out on Timmy’s floor for a night. Something big. Noah knelt in front of JJ. “Whoa, buddy. What’s wrong?”
JJ crossed his arms, still rocking, and didn’t look up. “Socks ran off. And then the men with the trailers came.” Fat tears ran down his cheeks. “To round up the horses. I don’t know if they got Socks or not. Or his band. I want to know. I need to know. And I need to be here if he returns. I might be the only friend he has left.”
Noah wanted to say yes, but what if Gracie had changed her mind? His heart thumped against his chest, telling him he was in dangerous territory.
It didn’t matter. JJ would stay no matter what. Hopefully, Gracie would, too. But regardless, Noah wasn’t letting go of JJ.
Noah took a deep breath. “Gracie and I’ve talked. You can stay here. With me. I mean, if that’s what you want.”
Without looking up, JJ barreled into Noah and wrapped his arms around him tight. “Y-y-yes.” He was sobbing now.
Noah hugged him, more sure of his decision than of anything else in his life. “Then it’s settled. Now let’s go get those cinnamon buns.”
“Wait.” JJ pulled back. “Gracie’s going back to New York by herself?”
Noah took in a sharp breath. That boy had no clue how sharp his arrows were. “Yeah.”
“Then we should build her a darkroom. I’ve been researching online. We can put it in the cottage, in the bedroom since it’s connected to the bathroom.”
“If she’s not here, why do we need a darkroom?”
JJ shook his head in irritation. “For when she visits.”
Visits. Of course if she left, she’d visit. How could Noah handle that woman coming and going, in and out of his life? What would that do to him? Would they be friends? Would they be something more every time they met? Would his heart break every time she left? And if he managed to move on and find someone else eventually—a repulsive thought—how would the visits work then?
Noah shook his head. Too many questions, not enough answers. “Hold on to your idea,” he said, raising a one-minute finger to JJ. He wrote a quick note to Gracie, in case she woke before they got back, then nudged JJ toward the door. “Let’s get the food. Tell me all about this darkroom in the car.”
JJ barely stopped talking to breathe the entire ride. Noah had to admit, the kid had done his homework. A lightproof room was doable. So were separate wet and dry areas. And finding used equipment on eBay was probably possible, too.
The only problem was that very soon the cottage wouldn’t be theirs anymore. Noah would have to tell JJ eventually. Just not today.
Mrs. Walters greeted them at the counter with a pot of coffee in hand. “Didn’t expect to see you boys this morning. And circles under your eyes to boot. Rain keep you up?”
“A little,” piped up JJ.
Mrs. Walters eyed Noah like she could tell exactly what had kept him up all night. She tsked. “A lot of that going around.” That woman’s sixth sense was off the charts.
“A lot of what?” Noah cleared his throat and leaned over the counter to rest on his elbows. He turned up his coffee cup, the universal sign for fill-me-up. “We’d like a half dozen cinnamon rolls to go.”
JJ twisted his face into a pout-plead.
“Okay, make that a dozen,” Noah said.
“With the cream cheese icing,” JJ said.
“Half wit
h cream cheese, half with vanilla icing,” Noah corrected.
“Can I have some chocolate milk while we wait?” asked JJ.
“Sure can, sweetie.” Mrs. Walters smiled at him, then glanced back to Noah. “A lot of what, you ask? A lot of not sleeping. Sam was here practically all night. Rambling about this and that—you know how he gets when he drinks, and apparently, he stopped at a bar or two after leaving your place. Henry, the new night chef, drove him home a few minutes ago.” She filled up Noah’s coffee cup with unusual precision, waiting for a response.
Under normal circumstances, he’d change the subject, or at least try. But he was more interested in knowing what Sam had said than about saving his pride. “What was he rambling about this time? More stock market doom and gloom?” His questions almost sounded plausible, even to himself.
“It was about coins. Mostly.”
Noah perked up. “What do you mean?”
“Something about Grace and a collection of George’s coins. To hear him speak, a quite valuable collection.”
Noah took a gulp of coffee. Sam must have misunderstood. If Gracie’s father had a collection worth anything, Noah would’ve known about it. Gracie would’ve told him. Hell, George would’ve told him. He wouldn’t have risked losing his home.
“But you know how Sam is when he drinks.” Mrs. Walters patted Noah’s hand. “He says a bunch of hokey.” She winked at JJ. “Let me get you that chocolate milk, honey.”
True, most times Sam’s rambles were just that—incoherent babble. But sometimes they weren’t, like the time Sam had had an inside track on a buyout of some tech company. He’d been drunk that night. Everyone had thought he was just rambling.
The next day, the stock price shot through the roof.
…
Grace set the coffee to percolate and waited for her sanity to return. Last night had been wonderful. Last night had been mind-blowing. Last night had changed everything, beginning with Noah uttering those words: our house. My God, what was she going to do?
Nothing. Because one night of mind-blowing sex wasn’t enough to change anything. And it was totally mind-blowing, better now that they were more mature, more experienced. But it was just sex, nothing more.
