“If she’s as lovestruck as he seems, I’m not surprised.”
Gretchen laughed. “She is.”
They finished setting the table, dancing around each other in the kitchen in a way that already felt strangely familiar. After only a few days, they’d established something of a routine and it was quickly heading toward being comfortable.
They made small talk during dinner. As usual, Gram and Alex carried most of the conversation, but Gretchen found herself joining in more often than she usually would. They talked about the kids on the team, mostly, and Alex talked a little about how much Coach had meant to him back when he was that age.
There were things she’d always known about him, even if she couldn’t remember exactly when or how she learned them. His dad had died when he was very young. His mom had remarried a guy Alex didn’t get along with very well, and then she’d given him two half sisters the stepdad spoiled with affection. He’d gotten in a lot of trouble before he joined the football team, though. She remembered that much.
When they were done, they all worked together to clean up. Gretchen had stopped protesting that Alex was paying extra to have his meals provided, which meant he shouldn’t have to help with the dishes. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d sit around and watch others work while he did nothing, especially if the people doing the work were women.
She liked that about him. It was one of the many things she liked about him, actually ranking right up there with his smile and his sense of humor and the way he treated Cocoa. She shifted a little away from him as he slid the dish towel through its plastic loop. She also liked the way he smelled and his height and his shoulders and . . .
“I need to sit my butt down at the computer some more,” she said rather abruptly, in an effort to derail her train of thought. “But first, I’m going to go check on the horses. Cinnamon’s been kicking at her stall and I need to keep an eye on the door. Make sure she’s not weakening the structure. If I can’t figure out why she’s agitated, I’ll have to call Beverly.”
Beverly Jacobson owned the horses, and Gretchen never made any assumptions when it came to their care. She figured Cinnamon was probably bored or there was a particularly persistent fly bothering her, but she couldn’t be sure. Gretchen gave the Jacobson family frequent updates by email, but if she thought there might be a problem, she called Beverly right away.
“Maybe she’s bored,” Gram suggested.
“I don’t know. I follow Beverly’s instructions on exercising them and stuff. Maybe she misses them and wants to go for a ride.”
“Do you two ladies ride?” Alex asked.
“Not me,” Gram said. “I got thrown as a kid and after I hit the ground, the damn beast kicked me in the shoulder. I’m not a fan of horses.”
“I ride well enough to take them for short trips out, but Beverly prefers they not become too accustomed to anybody else’s riding style.” She shrugged. “She’s got some hang-ups when it comes to her horses, but she pays us well to take care of them, so I just do what the lady says.”
“You want some help? Checking out her stall, I mean.”
No, she didn’t really want to be alone in the barn with him. Feeling too comfortable with him was a bad idea, because then she might be tempted to do something really stupid, like touch him. “No thanks. It won’t take me long.”
He looked at her for a few seemingly endless seconds, until she had to fight to keep from squirming. It was as though he knew what she was thinking, and wanted to call her on it. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Gretchen nodded and went to shove her feet into her boots. She didn’t have time to wonder what Alex Murphy was thinking about. She had to get the horses taken care of and the bookkeeping done if she was going to reward herself with watching her movie.
—
Alex deleted the last three sentences he’d written and then stared at the blinking cursor. He was a storyteller at heart. It just happened that telling those stories through photographs came more naturally to him than telling them with words. He could usually put together a compelling piece, though, and frustration made him tap his fingers next to the touch pad.
Rather than keep trying to force general background information on Stewart Mills into interesting and cohesive paragraphs, he saved the file and closed the laptop. He should probably take another look at the photos he’d been snapping. At the end of each day, he did a quick run-through, discarding the hundreds that weren’t quite right. But then—after a cooling-off period—he’d do another pass, magnifying each photo to analyze the detail and composition. Then he’d sort them between two folders—one for possible inclusion, depending on how long the project turned out to be, and one for shots that spoke to him on an emotional level and would almost certainly be used.
Tonight, though, he was restless. Tired of being in his room—even though it had been only a couple of hours—and tired of being wrapped up in his own head, he stood and put the computer on top of the dresser. Then he stretched his arms up over his head, twisting at the waist one way and then the other to ease the kink in his back.
Since he hadn’t heard the floor creak or the click of Cocoa’s nails, he knew Ida hadn’t gone to bed yet. He’d go downstairs and visit for a while, he decided, and maybe grab himself a snack.
Gretchen had been working at the computer when he went upstairs, and he could tell by her posture she didn’t enjoy whatever she was doing. She’d been hunched over the keyboard, her shoulders tense as she stared at the screen and occasionally poked at it.
She wasn’t at the desk when he came downstairs, though. Instead, she was on the couch with her feet up on the coffee table and Cocoa’s head on her lap. Gretchen was idly scratching the dog’s belly while Ida sat in her rocker, knitting and watching the television.
“Bourne, huh?” he asked when he reached the bottom of the stairs, and all three of them turned to look at him.
“Gretchen knows every line of this movie by heart,” Ida said, shaking her head. “Heck, I think even Cocoa knows every line of this movie.”
“I like a woman who likes Jason Bourne.” He said it playfully, but he didn’t miss the way Gretchen’s cheeks flushed as she yanked her gaze back to the TV screen.
“Sit down, then, and watch it,” Ida said. “I’ll be going upstairs soon, so you can keep Gretchen company.”
That didn’t sound like a bad way to spend the evening. He sat on the open end of the couch and chuckled when Cocoa stretched her body out so her back paws were touching his thigh. She wasn’t willing to take her head off of Gretchen’s lap, but she wanted to give him some love, too.
“I’m never going to get her upstairs with me,” Ida said, giving the dog an affectionate glance before she resumed her knitting.
Alex leaned his head back against the sofa and looked at the television screen. He liked their couch a lot. Maybe it was because Gretchen was tall, as her grandfather had been, but it had a high back on it. Too often sofa cushions stopped just below his shoulders and he couldn’t relax his neck.
He’d seen the Bourne movies often enough that he had no trouble dropping into this one despite its being almost halfway over, and he decided immediately that closing up his laptop had been the right idea.
He’d come back to Stewart Mills, in part, to fight that feeling of burning out. Relaxing with a good movie and good company was exactly what he was supposed to be doing, he reminded himself.
Ida made it only another fifteen minutes before she yawned and stood up. “I’m going to head up now, and maybe knit in bed for a little while. Come on, Cocoa. Time to go outside.”
The dog pretended she didn’t hear her, but Alex could tell by the way Cocoa pushed against him with her feet that she was awake and knew it was bedtime. When Ida said her name again, she whimpered a little and tried to burrow her head under Gretchen’s thigh.
“I’ll br
ing her up with me, Gram.” Gretchen stroked her chocolate-colored fur. “I’ll put her outside when the movie’s over and then let her into your room when I go up to bed.”
“She’s turning into a spoiled brat,” Ida said, but she crossed over to give Cocoa a quick belly rub. The Lab held up her paw for a good-night high five. “Good night, all.”
As soon as Ida went up the stairs alone, Cocoa heaved a contented sigh and stretched out again. Alex idly stroked her side and hip while watching a particularly well-done car chase scene play out across the television screen. He could get used to this.
During a lull in the action, Gretchen managed to get herself out from under Cocoa’s head and went to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with a couple of peanut butter cookies for herself and a small treat for Cocoa. And she handed him a small cluster of the seedless green grapes he liked to snack on. They were hydrating, a little sweet and just satisfying enough to keep him from snacking on other things. Like peanut butter cookies.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the grapes from her and popping one into his mouth.
After a minute, he glanced over just in time to see Gretchen’s tongue flick out and catch a crumb from her lip. He told himself the pang of yearning that hit him was nothing but baked goods envy, but he suspected they could switch food and he’d still want to watch her mouth.
Once he’d satisfied the urge to snack—which was the only urge he had any intention of satisfying in the near future—he put the branch of empty stems on the side table and rested his head against the couch again. He was tired, but he knew the rest of the movie was action-packed enough to keep him awake, no matter how many times he’d seen it. He was afraid if he fell asleep and started snoring, Gretchen might leave him there and he’d wake up at three in the morning, stiff and barely able to move.
He also didn’t want to sleep right now, because he was enjoying himself too much. Sure, he’d seen the movie before. And Gretchen wasn’t one for a lot of conversation. But the silence was companionable, not awkward, and every once in a while she’d make a comment about an action sequence or chuckle at an improbable stunt. It was nice, hanging out together with the dog between them.
He rubbed Cocoa’s side, loving the feel of her fur under his hand. She was snoring a little, which amused him, and every so often her foot would twitch against his thigh.
They were heading into the big action finale when his fingers and Gretchen’s brushed together at the middle of Cocoa’s back. She jerked her hand away, which startled Cocoa. The Lab sat up and looked around, as if searching for whatever had disturbed her, and then turned to Alex.
“Sorry, girl,” he said. “Maybe just one back rub at a time.”
Gretchen smiled as Cocoa sighed and resumed her former position, but Alex noticed she concentrated on scratching behind the dog’s ears, and her hand didn’t wander past Cocoa’s neck again.
When the movie was over, Gretchen went outside with Cocoa while Alex threw away his grape stems and poured himself a glass of water. He sipped it slowly, watching the dog run around the backyard while Gretchen made exaggerated gestures he assumed translated to Just pee already, so we can go to bed.
When they finally came in, Gretchen looked slightly surprised to see him, as if she’d expected him to be upstairs already. After locking the door, she kicked her shoes off. “We’re going upstairs, so . . . good night.”
“Good night.” Cocoa trotted over to him for a high five. “See you bright and early in the morning.”
“Watch it. You’re starting to sound like a farm boy.”
He snorted. “That’s not likely.”
She gave him a tight smile and then called the dog to her. Alex watched them leave and then dumped the rest of the water down the drain. He might be enjoying his time at the Walker farm, but he didn’t have it in him to be a farm boy. A man could only take so many pictures of horses and a tractor.
06
On Wednesday, Gretchen slid into the booth next to Kelly and across from Jen with a happy sigh of anticipation. It wasn’t often all three of them were free to meet for a nice meal, so when Kelly had texted them about lunch at O’Rourke’s, she hadn’t even hesitated before texting back that she’d be there.
“I’ve been thinking about O’Rourke’s cheeseburgers since I got your text,” she said before taking a sip of the soda they’d ordered for her.
“I love their burgers,” Kelly agreed. “Chase had one the other day and, when he told me about it, the craving kicked in.”
“Craving?” Jen raised an eyebrow.
“Not that kind of craving. You know we’re not even thinking about a family until he’s done in New Jersey. I’ve just desperately wanted a burger since he told me he had one. He said Alex had a salad, which I don’t get at all. Who goes to a restaurant and has nothing but a salad?”
“I can have a salad at home,” Jen agreed.
Gretchen just unrolled her silverware from her napkin and said nothing. Alex probably didn’t consider his weight gain and subsequent loss some kind of deep, dark secret, but it was still his business to share or not. And she didn’t really want her friends thinking they were hanging around having heart-to-heart discussions.
Jen leaned toward her, squinting a little in the subdued lighting. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
No, she wasn’t, but she forced a casual laugh. “Thanks a lot.”
“What’s keeping you up late, huh?” Kelly actually nudged her in the ribs with her elbow.
They couldn’t possibly think she was sleeping with Alex. But, judging by the way they were both looking at her so expectantly, that’s exactly what they appeared to be thinking. And they wanted details.
Even if she were willing to spill, the only detail she had was the fact that their hands had accidentally touched while petting the dog, and she’d jerked away from him like he had the plague. Not one of her finer moments, and certainly not one she particularly cared to share.
Gretchen got a short reprieve from answering while they ordered their lunches, and she jumped in with a new topic as soon as their server walked away. “Alex said he’s gotten some great photos of the team. Said Coach has a good crop of kids to work with.”
“Alex said, huh?” Jen smiled. “Does he have anything to do with why you’re not getting enough sleep?”
She forced herself to remain expressionless. “Since Alex is currently living in my house, we’ve had plenty of opportunity to talk about the football team during daylight hours.”
“Just seems funny we were talking about you not sleeping and he was the next person you mentioned.”
“You were talking about me not sleeping. I was talking about the football team. Kelly’s dad is the coach. Two plus two, Miss Cooper.” They both just looked at her and waited. “Fine. He’s attractive. I haven’t . . . dated, in a while. There might be a little insomnia and they might be connected.”
“Oh, bummer.” Kelly sighed. “I was hoping you weren’t sleeping because you were with him, not because you’re not with him.”
“I’m not going to be with him, either,” Gretchen said vehemently. “It would be way too awkward with him living in the house. He and Gram are already buddies and Cocoa thinks he’s her human Prince Charming on two legs. If things were anything more than landlord and tenant between us, it could get messy.”
“Some itches just have to be scratched,” Jen said.
Gretchen wanted to ask her friend when the last time was that she’d practiced that particular bit of preaching, but she remembered just in time that Jen had had sex with Sam Leavitt while he was home for Eagles Fest, and Jen did not want to talk about that. They were all supposed to pretend it never happened.
The server brought their plates, and after she walked away, Gretchen dumped a huge puddle of ketchup next to her fries. “Once Alex is gone, I might make more of an effort to get out once in a
while. I think the guy at the auto parts store is interested, but he’s afraid to make a move.”
“Because you’re putting off a stay away signal, maybe?” Jen posed it as a question, but Gretchen knew it wasn’t meant that way.
Kelly let her soda cup down with a thump. “Gretchen, you need to let a guy open your pickle jar once in a while.”
Gretchen gave her a sideways look. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Because, trust me, I wouldn’t mind a guy opening my pickle jar once in a while.”
“There’s an electric can opener joke in there somewhere,” Jen said.
Kelly rolled her eyes. “I mean you need to literally let a guy open your pickle jar.”
“I don’t get it.” Gretchen used her straw to stir the ice in her drink. “That actually made more sense as a really bad euphemism for sex.”
“You’re so strong and capable that guys probably feel useless around you.”
“So I should pretend to be so weak that I can’t open a jar of pickles just so he can feel strong and manly?” Gretchen snorted. “Does Chase open your pickles?”
“No.” Kelly sighed. “The last time I gave him a jar of pickles to open, he couldn’t do it and he didn’t want to admit it, so he tried knocking the lid against the counter to break the seal. He broke the seal and the jar, and we were finding sticky spots on the floor for three days. And the apartment smelled like a deli.”
“I never buy pickles,” Jen said, stealing a fry from Kelly’s plate. “Now I know what to tell my mom when she asks why I’m still single.”
Gretchen laughed. “Maybe you need to wander around town with a jar of pickles until some strong, handsome man opens it for you and proves he’s your true love. Like Cinderella’s slipper, only with pickles.”
“You guys are idiots,” Kelly muttered. “Look, I’m a police officer. That can be intimidating to some men, in the same way Gretchen can be intimidating. It’s not about being weak. I think it’s just nice to show a softer side once in a while, and let him flex his biceps.”
Defending Hearts Page 7
