“Grace is right. I’m fine.”
“Then why—”
Before Pat could finish his question, the men arrived and Jack eased past him. “Expectant mothers shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” he said quietly. “Or tiring themselves out.”
Joe’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “A baby?” He elbowed his way past Jack and pulled Cait into his arms. “Congratulations, string bean.”
“Oh, Pop.” Cait dissolved into tears.
“Can’t you fix her, Unca Pat?” Joey asked.
“If Unca Jack can’t fix her, nobody can,” Danny said. “He’s the doctor, ’member?”
Joey and Danny were squeezed tight on either side of Meg, who still had tears of joy in her eyes. “I’ve saved all of Joey and Danny’s baby clothes—in case you needed them.”
Cait sniffled and was passed back to Jack. She rested her head against Jack’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m just a little tired and weepy, guys,” she told the boys. “You remember how tired your mommy was before baby Deidre was born?”
They nodded and looked from their mom to their aunt and back again.
“We’ll save you a spot on our peewee soccer team,” Dan told Jack.
Jack was shaking his head while Pat stood off to one side, watching the joy filter through Grace’s family.
“Thanks, Patrick.” Grace’s touch on his arm was hesitant. “Sorry the boys spooked you.”
He shrugged. “It’s not a problem. I thought Cait looked tired when she arrived, but when the boys started yelling, my training kicked in.”
She was watching him closely when she said, “You love it.”
He noticed it wasn’t a question but a statement. “Most of the time.” He wasn’t about to tell her about the times when he would lie awake at night, going over what-ifs until he was so wired he couldn’t sleep. More often than not, he had trouble sleeping. When he glanced at Grace, she was watching him like a baby bird—wide-eyed and innocent. Thoughts of his ex had him wondering if he should just walk away now, before he lost his mind and his heart. And then Grace smiled.
He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. Craving her touch, her smile, and her warmth wasn’t a surprise; Pat had the same needs as any other man…but craving the comfort of friendship with Grace was unexpected.
His mother’s voice whispered in his head, Don’t let this one get away, Patrick!
Her soft smile added a deeper warmth to her green eyes. Silently, he agreed with his mother. He was Irish enough to recognize a sign from above when he saw one—Grace Mulcahy of the curvaceous body and generous heart haloed in that shaft of sunlight had definitely been a sign. He was keeping her.
Jack tucked Caitlin against his side. “I think somebody should lie down for a little while. Come on, gorgeous.”
And as quickly as that, the family dispersed, and Pat and Grace were all alone. Working together, they cleared the table and walked over to the barn. He smiled when he heard the little voices echoed by Joe’s much deeper one. “Those two are pistols.”
Grace laughed. “They do give my sister a run for her money, but she’d never trade a moment of her crazy life.”
When she fell silent, he wondered if she was thinking that she might. Since he’d already decided she was a keeper, he asked, “Would you?”
“Trade them?” She shook her head. “Not for all the tea in China.”
“Good to know, but not what I was asking.” He brushed at a strand of hair that got stuck on the curve of her lashes. He asked, “Would you trade your life?”
She blinked and sighed. “What part of it?”
Was she being dense, or was it him? “The moving away from Apple Grove and making a life for yourself in a city a couple of hours away from everyone you love part.”
“I’ve always known exactly what I wanted. From the time I was old enough to work in the office and balance the checkbook—I knew that something bigger, grander, flashier was out there. But it wasn’t till Mom died that the need to leave began to take hold.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “You know what I mean?”
He thought of his nightmares after the fire—and the long journey up from the bottom of that bottle. Some days the temptation to have more than a sip tempted him. “Yeah. I do.”
“Apple Grove is so—” She looked around and then back up at him. “I don’t know if I can explain what it’s like compared to living in the city.”
“You don’t have to. I lived in New York most of my life. Even though Newark is a city, it’s a speck on the map compared to New York.”
“Then you do understand?”
“Yeah, I left the bigger, grander, flashier for something simpler, homier. At first I thought I found it in Newark, but then I met Honey B. and your sister and came here.” He let his gaze shift from her upturned face to the barn, across the wide expanse of the yard and to the field behind the house. “A man could settle down here and make a good life.”
“I know of a few single women who would jump at the chance if you’re offering.”
Testing his theory that she wasn’t including herself but that she was tempted, he traced the line of her jaw with the tips of his fingers. When she sighed and closed her eyes, he cupped her face in his hands and brought her mouth to meet his.
“I’m not interested in other single women, Grace.” He swept his finger along the curve of her jaw. “I’m interested in you.”
“We live so far apart,” Grace said. “Long-distance relationships never work.”
“So you’re going to ignore what you know we’ve already got between us?”
She shivered. “I don’t know.”
“I think I could convince you,” he rasped.
“But that wouldn’t be playing fair,” she said.
He sighed. “Too bad because I’ve got one hell of an idea for convincing you.” Her mouth rounded in shock and he pushed his advantage, asking, “So you haven’t changed your mind about next weekend, have you?”
She sighed and took a step back, adding distance between them. “I hate to make promises I don’t know if I can keep, but I won’t say that I’m not tempted.”
He felt like a teenager. “Can I call you?”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
He dug into his pocket for his phone and handed it to her to input her number. “And you’ll think about it?”
“I will.”
“I’d better go.” He didn’t want to, but being this close to Grace, not knowing if they’d ever do more than share a few heart-stopping kisses, was hard to accept. He turned to leave.
Grace grabbed his elbow. “Patrick?”
He turned back. “Yeah?”
“I had a great time today.”
He shrugged. He needed to put some distance between them since Grace had already put the brakes on things.
“You’re making it hard for me to say no.”
Patrick fought against the urge to take her in his arms. “Then let’s see where we are after you’ve had a few days to think things through.” He nodded and jogged toward his truck.
The last thing he saw as he backed out was Grace Mulcahy standing in the late afternoon sunlight waving good-bye. He hoped it wasn’t for good.
Chapter 8
In Columbus, Grace slipped back into her weekly routine, rising early and working late. She loved her job and enjoyed the daily challenges. But there were moments during the day when she’d find her mind drifting back to Apple Grove and the man who’d jump-started her heart after it had been fine the way it was: tucked away—safe.
She’d replayed the kisses they’d shared every night in her sleep, but it was the way he’d acted with her nephews and fit into her family as if he belonged that had her looking forward to his calls.
By Friday night, they’d had a few short conversations, but his job kept interrupting—something she’d have to consider carefully if she was going to go forward as Patrick indicated he hoped to.
&n
bsp; When her phone rang, she picked it up and smiled. “I was hoping you’d call.”
“Nothing a man likes to hear more. How was your day?”
He sounded tired. Was it his job? “Busy,” she said. “But I’ve caught up by working late every night this week. There were two projects I’ve been working on. Apparently I’m the spreadsheet queen in my office.”
“Everyone has gift in life, Grace.”
They both laughed and then he fell silent.
When she was about to ask him what was the matter, he spoke up. “Are you going to make me ask you again?”
She laughed. He’d asked her the same question every time he’d called this week and she’d dodged answering. She owed him an answer. “I just got off the phone with Pop. I’m leaving tomorrow after breakfast, so yes. I’ll be there for the weekend—and actually, longer. I was going to spend the next two weeks here in the city but talked to my dad about spending my vacation in Apple Grove.”
His sigh of contentment was hard to miss. “I’m glad. Wondering if I’d see you this weekend kept me up when I should have been sleeping. Wait—did you just say you’re spending vacation time with your dad?”
“Yes.”
“So you’ll be forty-five minutes from where I live instead of an hour and a half?”
She laughed. “Yes. Now, can we get back to the part where you’re telling me you can’t sleep? In your line of work that can’t be a good thing,” she said. “Is that why you sound so tired?”
“It’s not really a problem,” he told her. “I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
She had the feeling there was more to it than that. It didn’t make sense that someone who worked as hard as Patrick did during the day wouldn’t be sleeping. For now, she’d wait. He’d tell her about whatever kept him up nights sooner or later. Her gut told her it was something else. “Well, if you aren’t going to tell me what keeps you up nights, tell me about your day.”
“Busy. Only three routine calls today. Thankfully everyone is fine.”
“You make it sound as if it’s all just a part of your day, risking your life to save others.”
He paused and said, “It is.”
“Were they bad?”
He was quiet for so long, she wondered if asking him specifics was a bad thing. This was the part of getting to know someone that always made her nervous. She worried that she’d asked the wrong question at the wrong time—a question that would ultimately have the man running in the other direction—and into another woman’s arms.
Finally he said, “The first one was a car fire out on the highway. Melted the tires it was so hot.”
Something in his voice sounded off. “You sound really tired. Maybe you should get some sleep.”
“I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep if I hit the sheets now,” Patrick replied.
“Are you sure? Sometimes, I think I’m beyond tired, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I drift off.”
He chuckled. “We need to stop talking about pillows and beds, or I’ll never get any sleep tonight.”
The innuendo and heat from his comment sizzled in the air. Grace fanned herself and tried to think of something to say to redirect the conversation.
But before she could, Patrick said, “If I wasn’t so tired, I’d hop in my truck and drive out to see you tonight.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for what would happen if you did,” she confessed. “I thought we agreed to get to know one another first.”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, that is what I had in mind.” His sexy chuckle had her imagination going haywire.
“Not fair.”
“True,” he agreed. “Sorry. We’ll take it slow,” he told her. “For now.”
“Good night, Patrick.”
“Night, Grace.”
***
Saturday dawned with the promise of a warm day. Grace grabbed her suitcase, tote bag, and laptop, and headed downstairs. She’d stop for coffee on the way home. The drive gave her time to mull over the things Patrick had said last night—and the things he hadn’t.
Every conversation revealed just a bit more of who he was, but she still had a feeling there was something he kept to himself. She was glad she’d have some time off from work and could spend part of it with her family, but she was really hoping to spend a good chunk of it with Patrick, so they could continue with their relationship and take it to the next level. She hoped he’d trust her with whatever it was that he seemed to be holding back. But that meant that eventually she might have to talk about how things ended with Ted—something she wasn’t looking forward to.
The weather was gorgeous and the music just what she needed to lift her up and brighten her mood. The drive was blessedly uneventful. She pulled into the driveway, surprised but glad to see that Patrick’s truck was already there.
“Hey, Pop,” she called out as her father walked toward her from the open barn door.
“Hey yourself, Gracie.” He hugged her and set her back so he could look at her.
“What?”
“I’m just glad that you’ll be spending time with us. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, but that can wait. Patrick’s still in the barn. I left him to tighten up a few nuts and bolts.”
“Finished up, Joe. Hey.” Patrick’s deep voice had butterflies fluttering in her belly. “I’m glad you made it.” His nearness had her blood pumping and her breath hitching in her breast—the same reaction she experienced last week.
“I’ve got to call Mary back,” Joe said, looking from Grace to Pat and then back again. “Why don’t you two—visit?” He was whistling when he walked up the back steps.
“Pop’s up to something.”
Patrick grinned and swept her off her feet and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Hey!” she said. “What are you doing?”
“Kidnapping you,” he said, taking off at a jog, past the back porch steps, heading toward the field behind her family’s house.
Breathless from surprise and the warm, firm hand on the seat of her jeans, Grace started to laugh. “Are you crazy?”
His answering rumble was unintelligible, so she tried to lift and turn so she could see his face. He picked up speed, so she had no choice but to fall back against his back. “Put…me…down!”
Surprisingly her demand was answered immediately as he swept her off his back and into his arms, but he kept going. His gaze was focused on something in the distance beyond the fenced-in field. Grace tried, but she couldn’t figure out what he was staring at or where they were headed.
“What are we running from?”
He chuckled. “The face plastered against the picture window. I think your father’s spying on us.”
The vibrations rumbling around in his chest as he spoke soothed her into relaxing against him. As if that was all he’d been waiting for, he slowed down to a jog.
“I can walk,” she insisted, although she had to admit, she’d never been carried anywhere before. Was this what it felt like, being carried away, the tangle of emotions leaving her breathless?
He slowed to a walk and settled her higher in his arms, so she was right against his heart. But the beat wasn’t as fast as she knew hers would be if she’d been the one running and carrying someone.
“You’re not winded at all and don’t look tired.” She didn’t mean for her words to sound like she was accusing him, so she asked, “Do you run as part of your training?”
They were halfway across the field, headed toward the woods. “Yeah, we get used to training in our turnout gear and breathing equipment—about one hundred fifteen pounds if you’re a roofman like me—then add in the weight of the hoses. Hell, I could carry you for miles, Grace.”
She frowned. Was he being nice? She knew she was heavy. “I’m not a lightweight anymore.”
He grinned down at her. “I think you’re gorgeous.”
His strength awed her. The need to wrap around him like a vine nearly overwhelmed her. After t
heir phone conversation, anticipation had kept her up most of the night. Nestled in his arms was right where she wanted to be, but she needed to be clear headed where this man was concerned. He was important and she didn’t want to screw things up.
“I can walk.”
He paused and looked down at her. “I like carrying you.”
He shifted his handhold and slid a hand beneath her breast, grazing it. His touch sent her spiraling into another dimension where only the two of them existed and being held in his arms was the only thing that mattered. “I can’t think when you’re touching me.”
“You’re killing me, Grace.” He set her on her feet and took her by the hand.
“How much time do we have before everyone gets here for the game?”
“Oh, sorry. I forgot to tell you. The game’s tomorrow. I’m here just visiting today. Dan said he and Meg will be stopping by after they run errands.” He tugged on her hand. “Now’s our chance for a little alone time. Your father mentioned one of your favorite spots—that looks like it.”
She smiled. “My favorite meadow. It has the sweetest grass. I spent a lot of time there as a kid rolling in it and picking blades for my fairy houses.”
“That’s what he said. Let’s go.”
Pinpricks of awareness sparked between them as they walked. When they reached the meadow, he stopped to pull her against him. But instead of the tongue-tangling kiss she expected, he placed soft, tentative kisses along the arch of her brow and down the curve of her cheek. “You taste like lavender.” He paused to nudge her chin up and began to nibble the underside of it. “And rain.” He pressed his lips where he nibbled, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone. “You’re delicious.”
His quiet words flipped a switch inside of her, allowing her to finally give in to the overwhelming need to let him lead wherever he was going. Reveling in his every caress, she was rewarded when his lips slid along her collarbone and pressed against the hollow of her throat.
She breathed a sigh of relief and tilted her head back, giving him silent permission to do more, hoping he’d take the hint to continue down toward her breasts. She suddenly ached for more of his touch. When he pulled back again, she nearly wept with need. “You’re killing me.”
Welcome Back to Apple Grove Page 8
