Dan and Jack just smiled. “Never bet against a Mulcahy, my friends,” Dan said.
“You’ll lose every time,” Jack added.
Before anyone could protest, Grace and Patrick came back outside. “The lovely Kate McCormack baked these pies for you.”
Finney nudged Jimmy. “Let’s let Bear and Sledge drive Mike home—we’re stopping at the diner.”
Chapter 13
Patrick drove over the railroad tracks. “Which way?”
Grace snickered. “You already asked me that.”
He sat at the intersection and seriously considered rolling his eyes the way his sisters always did when they couldn’t believe he’d said something. “OK, and did you tell me left or right? I can’t remember.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“I like your family.”
Grace patted his hand. “You’ve said that before.”
“Grace…”
Her laughter filled the cab of his truck. “I couldn’t resist.”
For the first time in a long while, Pat had found a woman he could relax with and be himself—not some kind of firefighting hero the woman had made him out to be. Expectations could be a real pain in the ass.
“That’s where we go to church,” she said as they drove past Apple Grove Methodist Church.
Of course, church was the last thing on his mind at the moment. A nice drive in the country at the end of the day, some passionate necking, and maybe getting to second base—God help him, she had him thinking like a randy sixteen-year-old. But he wouldn’t push for more than Grace was ready to give.
“If we drive a little farther, you can see the railroad trestle bridge that Dan jumped off of saving Charlie and Tommy.”
She wasn’t on the same page as him yet, but she would be soon. “I do remember hearing that story, but your brother-in-law doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“So what did you think of them?”
Patrick’s mind was filled with thoughts of kissing the side of Grace’s neck and working his way to the hollow of her throat and wasn’t following the conversation. “Them who?”
“The two boys he rescued that day.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she added, “Charlie Doyle and Tommy Hawkins—you played soccer with them today.”
“Those college kids?”
“Uh-huh. They haven’t changed much, just filled out a little bit.”
“It’s the typical college diet—beer.”
“I didn’t drink much beer when I was in school. You can take this turn,” Grace told him, “and park by that stand of pine trees.”
The breeze picked up as he parked, carrying in the scent of sun-warmed pines with it. He breathed deeply. “Don’t have many of these back home in Brooklyn.” He got out and closed his door, walking around to open Grace’s for her.
“What kind of trees do you have?”
He held out his hand to help her down. She hesitated for a second before putting her hand in his. Unable to resist making her laugh, he said, “Big ones with green leaves in the summer that turn color and fall off when winter starts.”
Instead of the light laughter he expected to hear, Grace made that huffy sound his sister Grania made whenever she was about to correct him. “You don’t know what kind of trees they were?”
“Honestly? They could have been oak trees or maple trees for all I know. If you really want to know, I’ll text one of my sisters. They know that kind of stuff because my nephews are always asking questions like that.”
She hadn’t let go of his hand. He liked that. The breeze shifted and something hauntingly familiar blew past his face. “What’s that smell?”
Grace sniffed and smiled. “Slightly sweet and tugs at your mind like something you remember from childhood?”
“How did you know?” After their conversation this morning—black sheep leaving home—he’d felt as if a lock had clicked open inside of him. They were headed in the direction he was planning to go—forward. He needed Grace at his side and in his life.
“Come on.” She tugged on his hand and he followed her lead. “See that farmer’s wall over there?”
He stopped and nudged her chin up. “What kind of wall?”
“Those stones over there.”
“Looks like it was an old stone wall.”
“Exactly. Farmers used them to delineate their property lines.”
He traced the curve of her cheek and the line of her jaw with the tips of his fingers, pleased when her gaze shifted from his eyes to his mouth. Seizing the opportunity, he bent and captured her lips, pouring everything he’d come to feel for her into his kiss.
When he finally eased back, her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were cupping her sweet derriere.
She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Um, that’s why they’re called farmer’s walls.”
“What does that have to do with that smell?”
“There used to be a farm here, alongside the river, before the railroad went through. All that’s left is the fieldstone foundation and a few overgrown Privet hedges.” Grace traced his bottom lip with her pointer finger, distracting him. “That’s the amazing scent.” She tapped the fullest part before slowly, lazily, tracing the outline of his lip again.
The woman was driving him crazy. “Grace—” The words slid down his throat when she leaned forward and used the tip of her tongue to follow the same path her fingertip had. His good intentions wavering and his control in shreds, he gave in to the need grabbing him by the throat.
He lifted her up. “Put your legs around my waist.” When she did, he groaned, reveling in the feeling of her million-dollar legs locking around him. “Baby, you’re killing me.”
Much more of her lips on his and her sweet spot blasting heat against the top of his zipper, and his legs would give out. His lips never left hers as he backtracked, walking toward the stand of pines by his truck. He backed her up against a tree, giving him the advantage, and shifted so his erection was nestled where she was hot, moist, and ready for more.
“You’re so damn hot.” He was hanging on to his last thread of control. He’d lost his mind somewhere around daylight, lying in his bed alone, wishing she was there with him. Sinking into her, letting his fingers explore her ripe curves, had been in the back of his mind all day. Knowing that she’d be closer and he’d be able to spend more time with her for the next little while short-circuited his brain.
“Patrick,” she moaned, taking control of the kiss, tangling her tongue with his before delving deep again and again.
“Tell me to stop,” he ground out. “Or I’m making you mine right here—right now.”
Her slumberous gaze met his as her hands slid between them and she fumbled with the snap of his cutoffs and the tab of his zipper. “Don’t stop.”
She had him freed by the time he’d eased her legs—and her zipper—down. “Wait!” he bit out. “We both want this, right?”
She nodded and he let his forehead fall against hers while he caught his breath and shoved her jeans down over her hips and swept the swath of lace to one side.
“Back left pocket.”
Reaching behind him, she found the tiny foil packet and opened it with her teeth. Before he could find his voice, she’d covered him with protection from tip to base.
“Your turn,” she whispered, watching him like a hawk about to dive on its prey as he shifted his stance and his shorts slid to his feet. He kicked them aside and lifted her up, hesitating when her moist warmth brushed the tip of his erection. “Take me inside you,” he rasped. “Please?”
Grace spread her legs wider and locked her ankles at the base of his spine, forcing Patrick so deep his head spun and his heart thundered in his chest.
***
Hard and hot, Patrick drove into her again and again. Grace arched back to accept more of him—all of him. She swore he touched her heart when she felt him touch her womb. “More,” she urged, using her pelvic muscles to receive and then give back more
of herself with each measured thrust.
The bark rubbed under her T-shirt, but she couldn’t think about that now. Patrick moaned low in his throat and drove into her—faster, harder, longer. She couldn’t take much more. “I can’t wait!” she keened.
“I’m right behind you, baby,” he rasped against her ear. “Grab it, baby, take what you want and I’ll give you more.”
He thrust and she shattered around him, her inner muscles grasping at him to hold him deep inside, but he wasn’t through with her. Again and again, he thrust hard and deep until she felt him stiffen and he threw back his head. He swept his hand down between them and played her until she sang out, her groan of pleasure in harmony with his own. They came together in a blinding flash of fire and she went limp in his arms.
“Jesus, Grace.” Patrick shifted his hold to tighten his grip. “Are you all right?”
She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak, but she could feel. Heat-tangled sparks were still zinging from her center, shooting out to her fingertips. She moaned low in her throat, a garbled sound. It was the best she could do.
“Come on, baby,” he urged, shaking her until she lifted her head and looked up at him.
“Hi,” she managed.
Worry lines eased into a slow and seductive smile as he realized she was all right. “Hi.”
“Wow.” Good Lord, she could only think in one-word sentences.
“You pack a punch, Mulcahy.”
She sighed and felt her throat loosen until it was as relaxed as the rest of her. “That was amazing.”
“Once you started moving your hips, my brain shut off.”
His eyes distracted her. They’d changed from warm, deep amber to molten caramel. Desire shimmered in their depths and she knew she’d be a fool not to take him up on the silent offer in his gaze. “I stopped thinking when your hands grabbed my backside—but I felt everything.”
She licked her lips and was rewarded with another of his mind-numbing kisses. “How am I going to let you leave?”
He chuckled. “Baby, I’ve only just gotten started.” He slipped free and carried her over to the truck. Setting her on her feet, he looked around and found his shorts and her pants. “Here,” he said, holding hers out. They each slipped into their pants but didn’t bother fastening them. Patrick grabbed her by the hand, walked to his truck, and leaned her against the side.
His tongue tangled with hers and traced the rim of her mouth, delving deep, before he came up for air. Air-soft kisses feathered along her cheek and down to the hollow of her throat. “Patrick, I—”
“Shhh,” he urged, opening the door before turning to her and stripping her bare. “Let me show you how I feel, Grace.” He shoved at his shorts until they fell to his feet. He kicked them off and backed her into the cab and across the bench seat before crawling in after her, holding himself up so he wouldn’t crush her.
“I wish I had a mattress in the back of my truck. We could camp out here under the stars.”
Grace let her fingers grip and knead his powerful shoulders, reveling in his strength. “I’ve camped out before, but never in the bed of a truck.” She ran her fingers down to where his biceps bulged.
He closed his eyes and sighed. “I love the way you touch me.”
She obliged by slipping her fingers across his pecs and down to his abs.
“If you go any lower, this show will be over before you get warmed up.”
She giggled and slid her hands to his taut backside and held on as if he were her life raft and they were in a storm-tossed sea. “Shut up and kiss me, Garahan.”
His grin faded as he leaned toward her. She met him halfway, losing herself in the taste and feel of him. He stroked the fire inside of her until she was writhing beneath him, begging him to make love to her.
She was half out of her mind by the time he reached into his glove box and pulled out another foil packet. “Hurry,” she begged as he covered himself and thrust home.
Wave after wave of ecstasy swept over her, and still he kept up the pace, all the while raining kisses along her shoulder and beneath her ear, coaxing her back from the edge until she was right there with him, thrust for thrust. Kiss for kiss.
He tensed and she squeezed her inner muscles hoping to send him over the edge. His hands slipped beneath her backside and lifted her impossibly closer, sending him impossibly deeper. They rose together and descended into madness locked as one.
Moonlight filtered through the pines, setting his hair on fire. “I love red hair.”
He chuckled. “I was hoping your first words might be more along the lines of what an amazing lover I am.”
She was on top now and settled her elbows against his chest, absorbing every ounce of feeling she could derive from their time together. “But your hair’s got moonlight in it and it looks like it’s alive—on fire.”
He trailed his fingertips up the backs of her legs, drawing circles and then switching to long, lazy strokes. She shivered at his touch.
“Mmmm,” she breathed. “Without sounding like an idiot, it’s never been like that for me before.”
His hands stilled at the base of her cheeks before continuing on their journey up and over her backside, tracing more circles, driving her daft. “Patrick!”
He stopped, palming her cheeks in his big, callused hands. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t think when you touch me.”
He was back to chuckling, the rumble setting off sparks deep in her belly. “Thinking’s highly overrated.”
“You said that before.” She shifted beneath his questing fingers as he slipped them up to her waist and eased her one hip up so he could slide his hand between them.
With unerring accuracy, he found the spot he was looking for and toyed with her until her breathing grew choppy and she was begging him for more.
“That’s it, Grace,” he urged, slipping first one, then two fingers deep inside of her. “Ride my hand, baby. I’ve only got one condom left.”
She was mindless to everything except the pleasure he gave her. His touch masterful, his kisses devastating; she followed where he led, screaming out his name as she came again for him.
He eased his hand free and reached for the last of his protection. “Ever go around the world in a pickup truck?”
She giggled. “No.”
“Want to?”
She hesitated. “I’ve never—”
“Let me be the first for you. Say the words, Grace, because I need to make love to you from behind and go as deep inside you as I can go.”
Her mouth rounded in shock and he kissed her, tangling tongues with her. “Come on, baby, let’s go around the world.”
How could she say no? “Ye—”
***
The word hadn’t even left her lips when he flipped her onto her knees and buried himself to the hilt, her warm, wet passage pulsing around him for all he was worth.
“Not yet,” he ground out, hanging on to his control with every fiber of his being as he pounded into her sweet sheathe over and over again. Harder. Faster. Deeper.
He could feel the way she stiffened beneath him and knew she was about to climax. He let go and wished there was nothing between them—skin to skin, his essence mixing with hers, making the baby girl he knew would look just like Grace.
When he could think again, he said, “My dad always said that if you want a boy, go deep.”
Grace laughed. “My dad warned me that boys would want to sweet talk me into their pickups, but that I shouldn’t go.”
Pat’s arms tightened around Grace. They were still naked in his truck, her excellent curves pressed back against him as she sat in his lap. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Grace.”
He tried to stop thinking about making babies with her, because it was too soon to start that kind of talk. But at his age, he couldn’t deny that he was ready to settle down with the right woman and start a family. He hadn’t realized the need had been so close to the surface, waiting for Grace
Mulcahy to burst into his life.
“Did you ever get serious enough to start making plans for the future?” He had, but the woman hadn’t been the one for him.
“Yes,” she said, scooting her backside until he shifted and she settled down. “But I guess he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”
“I should probably tell you where my thoughts are headed,” he warned. “I’m not getting any younger—”
She tried to turn around and ended up squashing him beneath her hand. “Jesus, Mulcahy!”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to…”
She moved again and he bit out a curse. “Hold still, damn it!”
She froze and he adjusted her in his lap. “Don’t move.”
“OK,” she said. “Sorry—”
“And quit saying you’re sorry, damn it.”
“But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to get a better look at your face.”
“What for?”
“To see if you were teasing me or being serious,” she explained.
“About what?” His brains were rattled and his parts ached from the squashing they’d just taken.
“That you’re not getting any younger,” she said.
“Oh,” he said. “That. I’m on the downside of thirty-two,” he grumbled. “Hell, I don’t know. I hadn’t been thinking what I’m thinking until I met you.”
Grace sighed. “What are you thinking?”
He was keeping her. Should he tell her that or that he was pretty sure he was falling in love with her? Nah, neither one sounded like the kind of declaration a woman’d want to hear. He’d made that mistake before with disastrous results, because being pretty sure he was in love wasn’t the same as saying he was in love.
Better to be cautious. “Damned if it makes sense to me.” He’d have to figure out a way to tell her what was in his heart without scaring her away or pissing her off. He’d done that with the one other woman he thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But she wasn’t anything like the woman sitting naked in his lap. This woman meant more. She’d opened her life and her heart to him and met him fire for fire. She trusted him to make love to her in a position she’d never tried before.
Welcome Back to Apple Grove Page 14
