Defending Hearts

by Shannon Stacey

As she got out of the cruiser, Kelly ended a cell phone conversation and slid the phone into her pocket. Gretchen wondered if it was a work call or Chase, but judging by the smile on Kelly’s face, it was probably her fiancé.

  “Hey,” Kelly said, spotting Gretchen near the garage. “I thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “Hilarious. Tell me everything.”

  Gretchen laughed and then shrugged. “Okay. I gathered eggs and then I took care of the horses. Then I checked on the pumpkins, which are doing really well this year. I had to order a part for the tractor. Now I’m going to split some wood.”

  “Stop! Fine. Not everything.”

  Gretchen knew what Kelly wanted to hear, but she had no intention of sharing with her friend how attractive she found her new housemate, or how long she’d tossed and turned trying to forget that so she could sleep.

  “How are things going with Alex? I feel invested since I helped arrange it.”

  “It was definitely a good idea to use him as a test run for having a boarder. He’s fine. I mean, I kind of know him, and your dad knows him really well. Gram knows his family. But now that Alex is staying here, I can see that there’s no way I could have a stranger living with us.”

  “Do you want me to see about other arrangements for Alex?”

  “No. He’s fine, like I said.” Gretchen wasn’t sure how to explain it. “It’s just . . . weird.”

  “Weird how? Is he making you uncomfortable?”

  She laughed. “Relax, Officer McDonnell. He’s not weird and he’s done nothing to make me feel uncomfortable at all. It’s just weird having a guy in the house.”

  “What does Gram think of him?”

  “Gram wants to fatten him up, of course.”

  “Obviously I barely looked Alex’s way during Eagles Fest, since I was too busy trying to hide the fact I was ogling Chase, but I seem to remember he looks pretty good just the way he is.”

  Gretchen was usually fairly good at hiding her thoughts, but she could feel a touch of heat across her cheeks. “He’s in pretty good shape, I guess. I didn’t really notice.”

  “You are so lying to me right now.”

  “Of course I noticed the man’s in good shape. Have you seen how he’s built? When a man that tall with shoulders like that is standing next to you at the kitchen sink, trust me, you notice.”

  “Are you blushing?” Kelly laughed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you blush before.”

  “It’s hot. Some of us work for a living instead of riding around in air-conditioned cruisers, you know.”

  “Don’t try that the best defense is a good offense crap on me. Coach’s daughter, remember?” Kelly spread her feet a little and folded her arms over her chest. Gretchen and Jen used to give her a hard time about her “cop stance,” until Kelly had finally explained it was simply the most comfortable way to stand when wearing boots and a vest while weighed down by all the stuff attached to her belt. “Any awkward run-ins in the bathroom yet?”

  Gretchen rolled her eyes. “He has his own bathroom. That was the whole point of me moving into the room next to Gram’s, which you already know.”

  There had been the slightly awkward run-in in the hallway, but she was keeping that to herself. It was bad enough Gram might get it in her head that Alex and Gretchen would make a lovely couple. She didn’t need her best friends in on the matchmaking, too.

  The back screen door banged closed and they both looked in time to see Cocoa come barreling toward them. Laughing, Kelly crouched down to meet the exuberant greeting from the Lab.

  “How long have I been here and you just caught on?”

  Gretchen snorted. “She was probably napping on Gram’s lap again. A watchdog, she’s not.”

  “She’s a little big to be on Gram’s legs, isn’t she?”

  “Tell me about it. Actually, tell Gram about it, since she’s the one not cracking down on Cocoa. The dog does learn eventually, but not if the nice old lady is enabling her.”

  Kelly scratched under the dog’s chin. “You stay off Gram’s lap.”

  Cocoa gave her a high five and then went to find a good spot to pee. Gretchen uncapped her water bottle and took a swig before offering it to Kelly, who shook her head.

  “How’s Chase?” she asked before Kelly could resume their conversation about Alex.

  “He’s good. Busy, which is good and bad. Good because he wants to make everything right. Bad because it’s keeping him in New Jersey.”

  Gretchen nodded. Shortly before Eagles Fest, Chase’s business partner had run off with their money, and his girlfriend had run off with another man. Both had been a blessing in disguise, since it turned out Kelly McDonnell was the love of his life, but he wasn’t the kind of guy to turn his back on his obligations. He had some jobs to finish and debts to pay off before he came home for good. “It’s only temporary.”

  Kelly smiled. “I know. And he’s coming home this weekend for three days.”

  Before Gretchen could respond, Kelly’s cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket. It sounded work-related, so Gretchen watched Cocoa wrestle with a stick while Kelly talked.

  “I have to run.” Kelly slid the phone back into her pocket. “We have a resident who’s absolutely sure she turned her kitchen light off before she did errands and came home to find it on, which means there’s probably a serial killer in one of her closets.”

  Gretchen laughed. Kelly loved being a police officer and she was good at it, but it would drive Gretchen insane to deal with the stuff her friend did every day. Kelly never put names or identifying details to the calls out of respect for the fact that she policed a very small community, but she’d told stories that made Gretchen and Jen laugh so hard their stomachs hurt.

  Once Kelly was gone, Gretchen spent a few minutes playing with Cocoa before bringing her inside. She might live on a farm, but Cocoa was meant to be a companion for Gram, and Gretchen did her best to make the Lab earn the obscene amount of dog food she went through.

  Then she pulled on her thick leather gloves and went out to chop some wood. There was nothing like swinging a splitting maul to make a girl tired enough to sleep.

  —

  It was late afternoon when Alex returned to the farm and parked his Jeep next to Gretchen’s old truck. He hadn’t accomplished a lot, besides stopping in the library for Ida, but he didn’t consider the day a waste. There were worse things than passing the time with the McDonnells, that was for sure.

  He brought Ida her library book, which got him a lazy high five from Cocoa. “Is she supposed to be on your lap like that?”

  Ida sighed. “Barely twenty-four hours and you’re as bad as Gretchen.”

  But she coaxed the dog off her lap and got her to curl up on the cushion next to her feet. Cocoa heaved a sigh and gave Alex a sad, accusatory look before going back to sleep.

  “How’s Helen?”

  “She’s good. Said to give you her best, of course. What’s Gretchen up to?”

  “Last I knew, she was splitting wood. She was going to work on the tractor, but they sent her the wrong part. I’m glad I wasn’t on the other end of that phone call, let me tell you. That girl gets more like her grandfather every day.”

  There was never any mention of Gretchen being like her mother or father, Alex noted. No mention of parents at all, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. He was guessing, based on the last name, that Gretchen’s father was the son of Ida and her husband, but there was no guarantee. If Gretchen’s mother had been unmarried or kept her name, or if the Walkers adopted Gretchen, that could explain it, too. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember anybody in town ever talking about her mom or dad when they were kids.

  He wanted to ask, but he’d already noticed there were no photos of Gretchen’s parents in the living room, and he could only guess
the circumstances of her being raised by her grandparents was a sore or painful subject.

  “I’m not in the mood to sit at the computer,” he said. “I might go see if Gretchen needs any help.”

  Ida chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

  Alex grabbed a couple of water bottles out of the fridge on his way through the kitchen and went outside. A loud crack told him she was off to the right, so he went around the house.

  Behind the barn was what looked to him like an incredibly huge pile of cut logs. Off to the side was a three-sided shed to protect the split and stacked wood. In between was Gretchen, her back to him as she stood a log on the massive cutoff tree trunk serving as her chopping block.

  He watched her pause, and then she lifted the splitting maul and swung it down in a fluid motion. It hit with a loud thunk and the log split into two chunks. She bent over and retrieved one before balancing it on its end.

  He wanted his camera in his hand to catch her in midswing, but she hadn’t given him permission yet.

  Then she bent to pick up the other half of the original log, and his interest shifted from an artistic assessment of her form to a very male appreciation of her ass. Unfortunately, he must have made some subtle sound of approval because she whirled to face him.

  “Sorry.” He held up the water bottles. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Just thought you might like a drink.”

  “Thanks.” She held out her hand and he passed one over. After draining a quarter of it, she recapped it and tossed it into the grass nearby. “Back up if you don’t want to get hit.”

  He backed up. “Looks like hard work.”

  “It’s gotta be done.” She pulled her gloves on and grabbed the splitting maul while eyeballing the log she’d set on the block. “For future reference, maybe don’t sneak up on a woman holding an ax.”

  “I’ll make a note of that. Don’t they have some kind of contraption that does that for you?”

  “Yeah. It’s called a splitting maul.” She hefted the maul and brought it down on the log, splitting it neatly down the middle.

  “I’m serious.” Even if things were tight financially for the farm now, a hydraulic splitter should have been something her grandfather got back when they were flush.

  “So am I.” She leaned the maul against the splitting block and pulled off her gloves. “Our stove’s big enough to take them unsplit, so once cold weather sets in it’s just a matter of feeding the fire until spring. We only keep a little split on hand to get the fire going or to get us through the occasional cold night in the fall.”

  Since it took only a quick glance at the woodshed to know her definition of a little was quite a few chunks of split wood apart from his, Alex still didn’t see why they wouldn’t use a splitter.

  “My grandfather always said splitting wood was good for the soul,” she continued, a nostalgic smile playing on her mouth. “It’s good physical work that helps you get your mind right. And it’s good exercise, too.”

  Alex groaned and rubbed his stomach. “I need some of that. Your grandmother’s cooking is going to undo years of dietary discipline.”

  “Dietary discipline?” She tilted her head as she asked the question, clearly interested. “I remember you were pretty big in high school. Like muscular big, I mean.”

  He nodded. “I was. Working out and practices and games and plenty of carbs and protein kept me hitting hard on the field. I didn’t play ball in college, though, and I kept on eating the same way. Without the workouts and the football, I went from badass big to just plain old big pretty quickly.”

  “I don’t get into actual exercise, but the meals Gram cooks—especially the good farm breakfasts, as she calls them—would probably go straight to my butt if I didn’t work around the property so much.”

  He liked her butt quite a bit, just the way it was. Her body was lean and strong, but still had a sweet curve filling out the seat of her jeans. Not that he’d mind if it were filling out a larger size of jeans, either. He might admire the hell out of her figure, but it wasn’t what attracted him to her in the first place. That would be her appealing mix of quiet strength and warm humor.

  “It was hard work getting myself back in shape again,” he said, which was a gross understatement. The few years it took to lose the weight he’d put on in college, post-football, had been some of the hardest he’d ever had.

  “Well, feel free to get as much exercise as you want while you’re here,” she said, gesturing to the splitting maul.

  If her face wasn’t usually so still and reserved, he might not have noticed the hint of challenge in her expression. She didn’t think he could do it.

  “I’ll take a turn,” he said, not about to back down. “I don’t have any gloves, though.”

  “My grandfather’s are on the shelf over the radio in the garage. They’ll fit you.”

  Of course she still had her grandfather’s gloves. The only way he’d get out of splitting wood would be to admit he couldn’t do it, and there was no chance of that happening. “I’ll be right back.”

  He found the gloves—thick suede softened by age and use—and pulled them on. They were slightly snug over the knuckles, but they’d work. For a while, anyway. He wasn’t sure how many swings of that maul he had in him, so ill-fitting gloves could help him save face if he had to quit.

  When he got back to the chopping block, she walked over to the woodpile. After rolling a good-sized log free, she tipped it up on its end to serve as a seat and then took her gloves off. She set her water bottle next to the gloves, but then she looked back at him, frowning. “You do know how to do this, right?”

  He wondered if he played dumb whether she’d stand behind him—chest pressed to his back and arms around him—to correct his form as though it were his golf swing. But there was a limit to how much pride he was willing to sacrifice for her touch.

  “I’ve got this.” When he winked, she rolled her eyes and sat down on her log to watch.

  “You have your phone, though, right?” he called to her. “Just in case you have to call 911?”

  When her eyes widened and she looked like she was going to get up, he laughed. “I’m kidding.”

  He hoped. Once she was comfortable on the log, she crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. The amusement behind her masked expression—her certainty that he was about to fail spectacularly at splitting one piece of wood into two pieces of wood—annoyed him.

  Since he was about to get sweaty, Alex grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head. After tossing it onto the grass, he picked up the splitting maul and braced himself.

  —

  A man could give a girl a little warning. Gretchen was glad Alex didn’t glance her way after tossing his shirt aside, because there was a very real possibility her mouth was hanging open.

  Whatever he’d done to get in shape after his college days had been very effective, because he wasn’t a man who looked in need of dietary discipline. He didn’t have the ripped and rippled look of those guys on the fitness magazine covers, but that didn’t really float Gretchen’s boat, anyway.

  Alex was just solid. He was toned and had some muscle definition, but he still looked like he’d be comfortable to cuddle on the couch with. She felt a ridiculous urge to run her hands over that broad chest, with its light sprinkle of dark hair, and then out over those shoulders.

  Funny, she hadn’t known she even had a thing for shoulders until Alex showed up.

  While his arms were slightly darker, his skin was tanned enough so that she knew going shirtless wasn’t something he was doing just to show off for her. And his jeans hugged his butt and thighs just enough to show off the fact that his bottom half was in as good a shape as his top half.

  Because she didn’t want to get caught staring, Gretchen picked up her water bottle and took a sip. She might want to ration it, though, un
less she somehow became immune to the sight of his body and cooled off. Too much of this view and she might be pouring it over her head.

  When he hefted the maul and began swinging it up and over, she held her breath, not knowing if it was the mouthwatering effect the motion had on his muscles or the fact that she was worried about his lack of experience.

  When the log split cleanly in half, she let out the breath. And because she’d watched it fall, she wasn’t ogling his abs when he turned to give her a triumphant look. He looked so proud of himself, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Nice,” she said. “You should be able to do half a cord without breaking a sweat.”

  He laughed out loud while bending to pick up one of the halves. “Not a chance. But I’ll split for a while if you stack.”

  It was better than sitting on a log mooning over him. She pulled her gloves back on, and as he split the logs, she picked up the pieces and stacked them in the shed. It definitely wasn’t his first time splitting wood, but she had no doubt he was going to feel it in the morning.

  He didn’t seem to mind working in comfortable silence, which suited Gretchen just fine. Or maybe he couldn’t spare the oxygen to talk. Either way, they worked for almost an hour before she noticed signs of fatigue in him. Tired muscles could get him hurt.

  She was about to tell him it was time to wrap it up when the screen door slammed. It only took a few seconds for Cocoa to find them and, of course, she made a beeline straight for Alex. The dog had no sense of loyalty whatsoever.

  Alex leaned the maul against the block and tugged the gloves off so he could ruffle the dog’s fur. “Saved by man’s best friend.”

  “Cocoa comes out and joins me when Gram starts cooking,” Gretchen said, pulling off her own gloves. “Time to start picking up, anyway. If you take the maul and the gloves back to the garage, I’ll make sure the chickens and the horses have water.”

  “Sounds like a deal.” When he reached for his T-shirt, though, Cocoa grabbed it and took off toward the house.

  “Cocoa!” Gretchen yelled, but the dog didn’t even slow down.