Dan’s gaze moved toward the petite, auburn-haired pixie woman he’d married.
Watching his friend, Pat chuckled. “Earth to Dan!”
“Hmmm? What?” Dan blinked and had to ask him to repeat the question.
“You seem to fit life here in Apple Grove like you were born here.”
Dan agreed. “It was like coming home, you know?”
Pat did and told him so. “When I left Brooklyn, I didn’t think I’d be staying. I just needed to get away”—and for the nightmares to stop—“but it grows on you. Everything just clicked and my life seemed…”
“Seemed what?” Dan asked.
Pat couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—he could only stare at the goddess standing in the sunlight on the Mulcahys’ back porch. Her hair was clipped short, brushing against the line of her jaw, but it was the way the woman filled out her T-shirt and jeans that kicked him in the gut. “Is she real?”
Dan looked over at the woman and back, and shrugged. “Last time I checked, why?”
Pat swallowed his spit before he drooled. She had killer curves. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Dan’s laughter had the curvaceous, strawberry-haired goddess glancing in their direction. She pressed her lips to the top of Dan and Meg’s daughter’s head and helped baby Deidre wave at them. “Whatever you want, Eagan, it’s yours, but you’ve got to introduce me.”
Dan turned and stared at Patrick as if his friend had lost his mind. “Introduce you,” Dan said slowly then nodded toward the woman. “To her?”
Pat ran his fingers through his hair, hoping there weren’t any leaves or sticks in it. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
Dan cleared his throat and his amused expression changed to one of concern. “Yeah.”
Pat felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. “Come on, man,” he pleaded. “I’ll owe you.”
Dan looked from Pat to the woman cooing at the baby in her arms. “OK.”
Pat felt relief flow through him. Just then the goddess looked at Patrick and tilted her head to one side as if wondering what he and Dan were discussing.
Dan said. “Come on.”
They walked across the grass, around the big old oak, and over to the bottom of the steps, where Meg was speaking to his mystery woman.
“Whoa, Meg! You cut your hair?” This was the first time Pat had seen her without her signature braid hanging down past her waistband.
“It was for a good cause.” Meg turned and reached out to brush the ends of the other woman’s hair. There was something familiar about her…
“I, uh—” The woman turned and her gaze connected with Pat’s. The air sizzled between them, short-circuiting his brain.
“Patrick Garahan,” Dan began, “I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law Grace Mulcahy.”
Pat held his hand out. “Grace?” His voice cracked and Dan coughed to cover the fact that he was laughing at his friend.
“Hi, Patrick.” Grace’s voice was soft and soothing. “It’s been awhile.” She gathered Deidre in one arm and held out her hand to grasp his.
“You too,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I mean—great to see you.”
Her green eyes sparkled, captivating him. Then she smiled and he noticed her dimples. Damn, he always had a thing for curvy, green-eyed women.
“I thought Honey B. was here,” she said to Meg.
Meg shook her head. “I guess I was wrong.” She turned toward the sound of her twins arguing and sighed. “Dan, can you please go be Switzerland?”
He laughed and said, “I’m on it.”
While Dan settled whatever the boys were arguing about, Patrick stared at Grace. “I didn’t recognize you. You look amazing.”
Her eyes widened and he knew from her expression that she hadn’t expected him to say that. “I like the hair,” he said, making her smile at him again.
“Thanks. I donated it to a good cause.”
“The two Gs,” he mumbled to himself.
“Excuse me?”
Jeez, she hadn’t heard him, had she? “Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes and locked gazes with him. “What are the two Gs?”
“Busted,” he groaned. “Something my brothers and I used to say.”
“When…?” she said, obviously hoping he’d fill in the blank. Fat chance.
“It’s nothing.” Pat wasn’t going to elaborate.
Deidre was leaning over Grace’s arm, squirming and reaching toward him. Pat said, “I’ll take her.”
Deidre started to fuss, so Grace handed her over. As soon as the little one was in Patrick’s arms, she quieted down and laid her head on his shoulder. Warmth filled him as the littlest Eagan’s breathing deepened and her tiny body went slack. Used to his nieces and nephews falling asleep on him, he pressed his lips to her ear and brushed the flyaway hair out of her eyes.
“You’re wonderful with her.”
He looked up and found that Grace was studying him, not quite like he was a smear on a slide but pretty damned close. “I like kids.”
Joe Mulcahy chose that moment to step outside. “Grace, you didn’t eat—Pat,” he said, extending his hand. “Glad…er, good to see you.”
If Grace caught on to her father’s slip of the tongue, she didn’t mention it, but her gaze went back and forth between the two men. Something was up.
“You didn’t mention that anyone else was going to be here today.”
Her father cleared his throat and crossed his arms in front of him. “Hmm,” he said. “Meant to. Cait and Jack will be here around noon and we’ll fire up the grill.” He pinned Grace with the intensity of his gaze. “You’re going to need to eat to keep up with everyone.”
“Pop, I told you—”
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Pat wondered if she’d gotten up late or if she’d been distracted by her family. “I could scramble up a mess of eggs for you.”
Before she could answer, he handed off the sleeping Deidre to her grandfather, who took her and walked over toward the boys. Patrick tugged on Grace’s hand. “Come on, gorgeous.”
Pat wanted to yank on Grace’s hand until she tumbled into his arms. But he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, and he definitely didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Joe Mulcahy—the former coastguardsman was built like a linebacker. So he settled for savoring the feel of the silky smooth hand grasped in his work-roughened one.
It would have to do for now…but after seeing Grace again, he knew he wanted to do more than hold her hand. A whole lot more.
She tugged her hand free the moment they were inside. “I don’t eat breakfast.”
He was washing his hands in the kitchen sink and turned to look at her. “Ever?”
“Not in the last year or so.”
“But how do you keep that killer body fueled?”
She groaned and stared up at the ceiling, mumbling beneath her breath.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you counting?”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Look, Garahan,” she began, only to stop when he got into her personal space.
“Yeah, Mulcahy?”
She tried to take a step back, but he’d boxed her in, her back to the counter. “You’re too close,” she bit out.
“No, ma’am,” he rasped. “I’m nowhere near close enough yet.” He let his gaze drop to her full lips and then back up to her amazing green eyes. “But that is all about to change.”
The hand in the middle of his chest surprised him.
“No.”
He relaxed his stance, eased back, and held up his hands. “Any reason in particular you don’t want me to kiss you, Grace? Because that’s what I want to do…kiss you.”
“I…you…we haven’t—”
“Ah,” he said, staring at her mouth. “But we could.” When she ran a hand through her hair and licked her lips, he decided he’d staked enough of a claim for the moment. He’d remind her throughout the day that he was in
terested—all the way interested. Grace Mulcahy was a woman with a capital W, and he intended to sample those lips before the day was out.
“Coffee?” Her voice broke over the word and he started to feel sorry for her. He’d come on strong and knew he had a tendency to do so when he found something—or someone—he wanted. But Pat had learned that life was short and you had to grab it with both hands or take the chance that you’d lose it all.
Come hell or high water, he wasn’t losing his chance to get to know Grace better. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
While she made coffee, he made himself at home in the kitchen and took out a frying pan and four eggs.
“Are you going to share those with me?”
“No.”
“Then one will be fine.”
He shook his head at her. “You lose most of the egg when you scramble it. I’ll make you two; you’ll be surprised how hungry you get chasing after Danny and Joey.”
She laughed and the tension in the air eased. “They like to jump on me to wake me up.”
His guts twisted, imagining a slightly different version—with just him and Grace. “Really?”
“They’ve been doing that since they could walk,” she told him. “Before I moved to Columbus, those two used to sleep over on Friday nights so that Meg and Dan would have some time together.”
“Was that before Deidre was born?”
Her throaty chuckle added another knot in his gut. “Yes,” she admitted. “It was.”
“Thought so.” He kept his tone cheerful and upbeat, despite the desperate desire rioting inside him, clawing for freedom. “My three sisters are all married with kids.”
“I thought you had brothers?”
“Three of them too.”
“Wow, your mom must be a saint.”
He grinned and agreed. “Saint Bridget Garahan.”
She poured him a cup of coffee and put it on the counter. “How do you take it?”
“Black, thanks.”
“Then you’re good to go,” she said. “Thanks for making me breakfast.”
He scooped the eggs onto her plate and handed it to her. “Crap, I forgot the toast.”
“No carbs.” She took the plate and set it down on the table.
“Honey, everybody needs carbs to keep the engine firing on all cylinders.”
“Car talk,” Joe said, walking into the house. “Whose engine needs work?”
Pat laughed and answered, “Grace’s.” When Joe stared at him, Pat held up his hands. “Your daughter doesn’t eat breakfast or carbs.”
“Well, she will today,” Joe told her, turning to glare down at his youngest. “Messes up your metabolism if you don’t eat at least three squares.”
“Amen,” Patrick added. “So, how about a piece of toast with jelly or peanut butter on it?”
Grace sighed. “All right, but no butter.”
Pat held a hand to his heart in shock. “OK, that’s it,” he said, turning to Joe. “I accept full responsibility for teaching Grace how to eat right.”
Joe laughed. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
Pat stared at the top of Grace’s head until she lifted her face and his gaze meet hers. “I’m not so sure about that, Mr. Mulcahy,” he told him. “I think I do.”
“Auntie Grace?” Two little missiles shot through the back door, into the kitchen. “Aren’t you ready to come play yet?”
“She’ll be right out boys,” their grandfather told them.
Grace knew when she’d been beaten; she gave in and ate the last bite of egg but left half the toast.
Pat rose from his seat when she did and handed it to her. “You can finish it outside while you watch the boys try to beat Dan and me in a game of keep-away-soccer.”
***
Grace looked from the man standing beside her to the one standing by the sink. The feeling that they knew something she didn’t crawled under her skin, but before she could begin to figure out just what it might be, the boys banged on the frame to the screen door, hollering for her and Patrick to hurry up.
For a big man, Patrick Garahan was light on his feet. He moved smoothly around her as if in a choreographed dance and opened the back door for her, holding out that blasted piece of toast.
“I’m not hung—”
“Little people have big ears,” he warned with a nod toward the two who were currently standing at the base of the steps looking up at them. His amber eyes twinkled with bottled-up laughter, but it wasn’t until the corner of his mouth lifted and the smile slowly spread across his rugged face that she realized she was totally out of her depth with him. He’d never looked at her the way he was looking at her now. She’d always been at ease in his company. But today, things were different. It was as if they were meeting for the first time, and wasn’t that crazy?
He was right—kids learn by example and by doing. She smiled down at her nephews and held up the toast, took a big bite, and made exaggerated chewing motions and yummy sounds as she ate it.
They giggled and ran over to where Dan was bent over the front fender of the F1, her grandfather’s 1950 Ford pickup. Boys and their toys, she thought. “Does Pop know you’re messing with that engine?”
Dan’s head came up like a shot and he rapped the back of it against the inside of the hood. He swore and held his hand on the back of his head.
“Daddy said a bad word. Daddy said a bad word.”
Pat chuckled and leaned closer. “Troublemaker.”
The depth of his voice sent a shiver up her spine, and she couldn’t ignore the fact that it was one more thing that captured her attention. Why hadn’t she ever noticed it before?
“Hey, you need ice?” Pat sprinted down the steps toward Dan and his boys.
Dan rubbed his head then shook it. “Hurts like a—”
Grace watched her brother-in-law pause, look down, and shake his head again.
“What does it hurt like?” Danny wanted to know.
“Yeah. What?” Joey added.
Dan’s snort of laughter had his sons giggling. “A son of a gun.”
Danny tilted his head to one side and asked, “Guns have kids?”
Grace ate the last bite of toast and watched them—two broad-shouldered, good-looking men standing side by side. The way Dan and Patrick were smiling down at her nephews tugged at her heart. She had a soft spot for a man who paid attention to kids—especially her hooligan nephews. Her ex—no, she wouldn’t go there.
Patrick laughed at something Danny said, and the sound made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Lyrics to one of her dad’s favorite Grateful Dead songs started playing in her head—trouble ahead…trouble behind. When Patrick looked up, she felt the air snap and sizzle. His amber eyes deepened in hue. Oh yeah…definitely trouble.
Chapter 5
The game was on and her nephews were running around, screaming like little heathens. “Watch out!” she warned as Danny nearly collided with the back of Patrick’s knees, but the man seemed to have a sixth sense where little people were concerned and stepped to the side at the last minute.
Her nephew tumbled to the grass but got up like a shot, sporting a grass stain that she knew her sister wouldn’t be able to remove without a fight. Two minutes later, Joey tried the same move on their honorary Uncle Pat and ended up sprawled on the grass. Their delighted laughter lightened her heart, but the added depth of the men’s laughter was music to her ears.
Grace thrived here, and maybe that had been the biggest motivator to her looking for a job in the city. Deep down, she’d been afraid she couldn’t exist anywhere else, afraid she’d lose the tie to her family—like the one she’d already lost when her mother died tragically.
Grace was Irish to the bone and had been raised to believe in fate, destiny, karma, and the all-important Murphy’s Law. She needed to be the one to sever the chord in order to find out if Apple Grove was her destiny…or if it lay somewhere farther west in the big city.
Wisps of her childhood dream teased at the edge of her memory; she remembered dreaming of a tall and handsome man smiling at children, playing with them. Her brain struggled to pull the rest of the details from that long ago dream but got sidetracked when questions filled her heart.
Why had Patrick been here today?
Was it the Universe or someone a lot closer to Earth who arranged their meeting again this way?
Had the long and winding road brought her back to Apple Grove because of her dream?
Was she meant to stay?
Her thoughts circled around and around until she had no way of sorting them out.
“Hey?” A strong, callused hand had a hold of her elbow. “Are you all right?” The warmth of that hand snapped her out of it and down off the proverbial hamster’s wheel.
The concern in Patrick’s gaze added to the warmth his touch ignited. He cared. The trick would be figuring out whether it was caring about her as a person…or if it was the something a lot more basic that he’d hinted at when he’d gotten into her personal space earlier.
Grace finally found her voice. “Yes. Fine. Why?” Was I staring at you like an idiot? She sure as hell wouldn’t be asking him that.
“You got quiet all of a sudden,” he said. “When one of my sisters does that, it usually means she’s solving the world’s problems or worried about something.”
She smiled. “How many sisters do you have again?”
He grinned. “Three younger sisters.”
“Do they have adorable freckles across the bridge of their noses like you do?” As soon as the words left her lips, her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes opened wide. Dork!
Patrick’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of pink. She’d embarrassed herself and him! Way to go making a great impression on the first guy who set off sparks inside you in more than a year.
“I’ll uh…take that as a compliment?”
She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, sometimes the words in my head sort of slip out of my mouth.”
“So you didn’t mean to bring up the fact that I’ve got freckles?” His tone was light and his manner endearing as he tried to get her to fess up.
“No,” she said. “But since the cat’s out of the bag, they really are adorable.”
Welcome Back to Apple Grove Page 5
