He shook his head. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
She shivered in his arms and he realized it was probably time to drive her home. He’d already been tempted once to make love to her without restrictions or barriers, but he didn’t think she was quite ready to start making little Garahans—at least not before they got married.
“Damn.”
“What?” she asked.
“I want to spend the rest of the night with you, but I’m out of protection and don’t think you’re ready to make babies with me.”
She shifted in his arms until she could see his face. She stared at him for a long time until she seemed to satisfy her curiosity. “You aren’t making fun of me?”
“Not on your life.”
“You’re really thinking about babies?”
He grinned. “I’m the second oldest of seven children,” he said. “What do you think?”
She kissed his cheek and scooted off his lap. “That it must be time to take me home.”
It hurt, but he had to ask, “Don’t you want to make babies with me?”
“There’s a whole lot more to it than that, but yes, I think I might,” she said, putting a hand to his chest as he moved closer. “Do not put those lethal lips on mine until we’re both dressed.”
She slipped out the passenger door. “Where are my jeans?”
His heart was stuck in his throat and he couldn’t speak. He pointed to his side of the truck. When his heart was back where it belonged and the knot in his tongue loosened, he asked, “So you might?”
She smiled. “Can we talk about it later?”
He shrugged, feeling better by the moment. “OK. We can talk about it more tomorrow.”
She growled at him as he opened his door to retrieve his shorts. He brushed the pine needles off her jeans and handed them to her. “Truce?”
She rolled her eyes at him as she pulled on her jeans. “Truce.”
After they were dressed, Pat pulled her into his arms and hugged her against his heart and breathed in her scent. He could still smell the lavender and rain, but it was mixed with the heady scent of their lovemaking and something earthier—his scent.
“I like the way you smell right now,” he confessed.
She lifted her head and he brushed the arch of her brow with his thumb. “It’s been a long day. I can’t imagine there is anything left of my perfume.”
“You don’t need perfume.”
Her grip tightened around his waist as she let her head fall against his shoulder. “You’re a keeper, Patrick.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“So we’re on the same page?” she asked.
“I think so.” He held the door for her and waited until she slid across to the middle, then he put the truck in gear. He slid his arm around her, pulling her flush against his side. When she linked their fingers, he said, “Can you shift it into third for me—standard H pattern?”
Grace did as he asked before teasing him. “What makes you think I know what an H pattern is?”
“Perfect,” he said. “Good to know I can work the clutch while you shift. Fourth, please,” he said before answering her question. “You’re dad’s a car guy, the company car is a 1950s vintage Ford F1 pickup, and I’m betting he taught you the importance of learning to drive a stick.”
“I never know what you’ll say or do next, Patrick.”
“Is that a problem?” He had to work to keep the worry from his voice.
She shook her head and he glanced her way to watch the way her hair slipped across her jaw and then back. “I really like your hair.” He reached over to fiddle with the ends of it, giving it a tug when she remained silent.
“What?” she asked. “I was thinking.”
He tried not to sound desperate when he asked, “About me?”
“Maybe.” She eased her hand free from his and slid it across his abs, heading toward his zipper.
“Don’t,” he warned, staying her hand.
She sighed. “I just wanted to touch you again.”
“I’m normally a strong man, but I’ve reached my limit with you.”
“Your limit?” The tone of her voice tipped him off that she wasn’t happy with that statement.
“Yeah,” he said, before she had a chance to work up to a good mad like his ma would have. “It’s taking all of my control not to pull over, toss you into the bed of my truck, and make love to you until you can’t see, speak, or hear.”
“Mmm.”
The humming sound she made deep in her throat turned him on. Hell, everything about her turned him on. “Quit trying to drive me crazy until tomorrow after I stock up at the pharmacy.”
“You’re planning to see me tomorrow?” The hope in her voice wrapped around his heart like a hug.
“I’ve got a regular shift, not a twenty-four. If you don’t mind driving out to meet me at my place, then yeah, I plan to see you tomorrow.”
“Maybe I’ll save you a trip to the pharmacy and pick up some supplies myself.”
He slid a hand to the back of her neck and massaged gently. “Grace, I know it seems like everything’s happening fast and furious, but it’s not just me wanting you in my bed.”
“I wouldn’t be here with you if I thought that—same page, remember? Besides,” she said, “we haven’t tried out your bed yet. That’s tomorrow.”
His laughter was deep and delighted. “You suit me down to the ground, Grace Mulcahy. I’m—” He broke off before he could say “keeping you.”
“You’re what?” She waited for him to finish.
He concentrated on driving, and finally said, “It’ll keep. Let’s get you home so you can rest up for tomorrow night.”
“Big talk,” she teased.
“If you’re gonna dream, dream big. I spent the night dreaming of you…the things we did would make you blush.”
Grace softly smiled. “Try me.”
He swallowed against the lump constricting his throat. “That’s the plan,” he said, turning onto Eden Church Road. “Now behave, so I can drop you off and can drive back to Newark without any distractions.”
He pulled into her driveway and parked, leaving both his hands free to caress her, satisfying a small part of the desire that had built up on the drive back to her house. When he finally had the strength to ease his hold on her, he peppered soft, fluttery kisses across her brow and down the side of her face. “Dream of me, Grace.”
She trailed the tips of her fingers along his jaw. “I will. Drive safe, Patrick.”
“Count on it,” he reassured her as she started to slide across the seat to the passenger side. “If I get out, I’ll walk you to your door and start kissing you again…I won’t want to stop.”
He could hear her breath snagging in her chest. “Oh, well…you’d better say good-bye here.” She leaned back toward him to kiss his cheek.
“Tomorrow,” she said.
“Tomorrow,” he promised.
Chapter 14
Grace woke to the sound of hammering and the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Opening her eyes, she blinked then focused them. Sitting up in bed, she reached for the mug. “Not a dream,” she murmured, sipping the fragrant brew and listening to the steady pound of a hammer somewhere downstairs.
A glance at the clock told her the first official day of her vacation was starting a couple of hours before she’d intended. “Not happening. I’m not getting up at six thirty on my vacation.”
The pounding stopped for a few minutes and she enjoyed the blissful silence of early morning. Laughing, she listened to the trill of a songbird nearby. “Well, not quite silent,” she amended. Joining the songbird—she was pretty sure it was a red-winged blackbird—was the steady staccato of a woodpecker. Since it wasn’t too loud, she knew it wasn’t one of the larger ones living in the woods across their field.
Woods where she and Patrick had walked and discovered their first taste of one another. That thought led
to the subject of her dreams—the man who’d taken her to the stars last night. “God help me, did we really make love standing up with my back to a tree?”
Pleased with herself and the loose-limbed way she felt this morning, she knew she’d do it again in a heartbeat if Patrick asked. Savoring her first cup of coffee for the day, she knew she would have to go see what her father was up to when she finished. The gift of coffee before she opened her eyes usually meant he had a favor to ask.
Revved from two days spent with the family and the new man in her life, Grace decided to grab a quick shower, since the hammering had started up again—Pop’s signal that she had a few more minutes before he came looking for her.
Clean, dressed, and ready to meet the day, she walked downstairs but didn’t see her father in the living room. “Must be in the kitchen.”
And there he was, big as life, spatula in hand, frying eggs. “Mornin’, baby girl.” His eyes were bright with amusement.
“Thanks for the coffee, Pop. What’s up?”
“I knew you’d catch on. Your sisters never could follow along as quickly as you.”
Grace got out the bread and put two slices in the toaster while her father checked the eggs. “We’re about ready here, Gracie. Got the plates?”
She reached above her head and got out two. “Coming up.”
When the toast popped, she buttered them and brought them to the table. “So what are you building this morning?”
His grin was infectious and she found herself smiling back. “A board.”
She paused with a forkful of egg halfway to her mouth. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Well.” Her father shifted in his seat and rubbed his hands on his jean-clad legs. “You weren’t waking up fast enough—even after I put that coffee on your bedside table.”
Her laughter bubbled up from deep inside. “So you were hammering so I would wake up?”
“Yeah.” He grinned and raised his coffee mug high, toasting her. “To my youngest and smartest daughter.”
“All right,” she said, setting down her cup. “What do you need?”
He patted her hand and leaned back in his chair. “I’m in a bind, Gracie, and wouldn’t ask you otherwise.”
“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what you need.” As soon as she said the words, her gaze met her father’s. He had said those words to Grace and her sisters countless times over the years. It was her turn.
He nodded. “That’s my girl. Your latest replacement left a voice mail on the office line. She won’t be coming to work.”
Grace sensed there was a bit more to the message than that. “Just today?”
“No.” He spread his hands on either side of his plate and stared down at them. “At all. I’m not sure what’s so hard about the job, Gracie.” He looked up at her. “You held down the fort for us for years—since you figured out how to work that computer, you insisted I needed to keep the business up and running—still think the business would be fine without the darned thing.”
She smiled. “I think I was twelve.”
“And smart as a whip.” His smile was open and contagious.
“So you need help at the office?”
He sighed and sat back in his chair. “We do…”
“I’m sensing there’s a but here.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but you’re bound to notice as soon as you sit down in front of the computer,” he told her.
She took pity on her dad. “I know about the schedule template. Why didn’t you call me?”
“And have you running back to Apple Grove to fix something I should have been able to handle?”
“Pop, you’re a whiz at fixing things that are broken,” she began, “but don’t know your ass from your elbow where computers are concerned.”
His face darkened and for a moment she wondered if she’d made him angry by being so forthright. Instead, he leveled his gaze at her and asked, “Is that a fact?”
“You know it, but since I love you,” she said meeting his gaze, “I’m going to share a little secret with you that could have saved you a headache.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? What?”
“I’ve got all of the templates I created for Mulcahys backed up on a memory stick—well,” she admitted, “two of them…my backup has a backup.”
“Do you mean that you can fix the schedule?”
“No, but I can upload the template so we can enter in any new data. All I have to do is plug the memory stick in the USB port, select the file I need, and upload it to your computer.”
“So all of this time—”
“Your pride kept you from asking me to help,” she told him.
“Ah, baby girl,” he said. “Pride was the furthest thing from my mind. I didn’t want you to spoil your dreams worrying about mine.”
Tears filled her eyes as his words wrapped around her heart. She got up and walked around the table to hug him. “You’re the best, Pop.”
His voice was gruff when he rumbled, “I know.”
She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before reaching for her empty plate. “So when do you want to leave?”
He got up and cleared the rest of the table, putting it in the sink. “We can do those later,” he said, motioning her to step aside. “Now would be great. We’ve got a handwritten list of calls that haven’t been added to the schedule yet.”
Grace nodded. “Who’s working what hours?”
“Cait and Meg are both on part-time hours, that’s why the list of repairs is getting a little out of control.”
“Have you thought about hiring anyone full-time?”
He frowned. “Your brothers-in-law have been after me to hire help.”
“Have they?” Grace knew it wasn’t because her sisters had complained about the hours. Her sisters loved the work—and hated to admit they weren’t up to the task of working full-time between Meg and Dan’s growing family and Cait and Jack with a baby on the way.
“Don’t tell your sisters. They’d skin those men alive if they knew.”
Grace laughed. “They won’t hear about it from me, Pop. Let me get my purse. I’ll meet you outside.”
“I don’t suppose you have one of those memory things with you.”
“I’ve always got my memory sticks with me. Once a geek…”
She dashed upstairs, energized at the thought of recreating the database she’d updated before she left—and a time or two since then. Hopefully their database wasn’t too badly damaged. She’d know once they got to the shop.
He father was in the F1 waiting for her. He smiled as she opened the passenger door and hopped in. “Glad to have your help.”
“Next time,” she told him, “just ask me.”
He was focused on backing up as he agreed.
“Promise me, Pop.”
“All right, I promise.”
On the short drive to town, they talked about the most recent repair calls. “So you’re not really sure how many people are waiting?” Grace couldn’t believe that her father wouldn’t know this.
“Hell, Gracie,” he grumbled, turning onto Dog Hollow Road, “you are the only reason I knew what was going on. You ran a tight ship, baby girl, and are a hard act to follow.”
Grace didn’t know whether to be flattered by her father’s compliment or upset that the family business was suffering while she was off chasing a future that wasn’t quite as rosy as she had thought it would be—one she wasn’t even sure she wanted now.
Joe turned right onto Main Street and parked in front of their shop. As she got out, Grace felt a bone-deep satisfaction that the exterior of their shop looked the same. Parking the F1 out front was something her dad used to do in between calls—but this time of day the truck should be with one of her sisters—out on the job.
“How come Cait’s not driving the truck?”
He unlocked the front door and shrugged. “She’s feeling poorly this morning. That’s why I needed your help. I hav
e no idea who’s waiting on us today.”
Grace shook her head as she walked inside and froze. “Oh my God! What happened in here?”
The office was littered with open boxes of plumbing supplies and, worse, files on every available surface, some piles tilting precariously. “What happened to my desk?”
Joe snorted out a laugh. “Your desk?”
Grace tried to hide the fact that although she no longer worked at Mulcahys, she’d always think of some things as hers. “While I’m uploading the schedule template for you”—she looked around and sighed—“and straightening this place out so we can get some work done, it is my desk.”
Her father smiled. “What do you need me to do?”
“For starters, can you find me that handwritten list of repair requests?” She walked toward the desk that she’d spent so much of her time running the family business from.
Grace waited for him to find it, unaware that she’d been holding her breath until her head felt light. With a whoosh, she let it go, telling herself to breathe. He held it up and said, “OK, now what?”
“Seriously? You’re asking me? It’s your business.”
“Used to be,” he reminded her. “I retired five years ago.”
The reminder had her wondering who, then, was at the helm. “Has Meg been doing the books?”
He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I doubt it.”
“Cait?”
“Gracie, no one has touched them since you left.”
“But that was over a year ago! How did you pay your bills?”
“I took care of the utilities and suppliers that called me, but the rest…”
This wasn’t her worry and certainly not her fault, but somehow she couldn’t let herself off the hook. Maybe she could come back once a month and take care of things in the office, or at least set up a system and find someone competent enough to do the filing and answer phones when she went back to her real job.
She looked at her father and noticed his frown of frustration. “Tell you what, Pop,” she said, wanting to make up for the fact that his dream appeared to be going down the toilet, “why don’t you go next door and get us a couple of really big coffees while I get started?”
His expression changed from frustrated to relieved. “You don’t need my help?”
Welcome Back to Apple Grove Page 15
