Welcome Back to Apple Grove

by C. H. Admirand

  “You know,” he told her, “for someone who doesn’t like to use power tools, you sure do your fair share of lifting, hauling, and moving boxes, crates, and stuff around Mulcahys.”

  He opened the passenger door and waited for her to get in. When he was sitting next to her, she said, “I’ve never really thought about it before, but now that I have another job to compare it to, I think that’s why I’ve gained weight.”

  Patrick frowned at her. “I don’t follow you.”

  “I sit behind a desk all day long at my real job,” she explained. “I hadn’t realized how much moving around and physical work I used to do working for my family.”

  “It’s like being what my ma would call a Gal Friday.”

  She nodded. “Only with a lot more box moving, lifting, and unpacking.”

  They arrived at his apartment complex a few minutes later. It was encouraging that she’d been willing to continue as if their conversation from the night before—about New York—never happened. He wished he didn’t know that she expected him to tell her what happened, but he did. With that one tiny wrinkle, their relationship was everything he’d envisioned.

  “What if my dad thinks he’ll be doing me a favor by not letting me come back?”

  He closed the door behind her, took her hand, and led her to the living room. Easing her onto the sofa, he sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her. “Decisions and choices that we make are just that. Did you burn any bridges when you made the choice to move to Columbus?”

  She seemed to be mulling that over for a moment before she answered. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then it was a choice. Your dad’s a smart guy and good judge of character. People are allowed to make changes in their lives. Sometimes they work out and sometimes they don’t.”

  He fell silent, amazed that the words were true for him as well. Although he had said he didn’t want to talk about it, he said, “I made the decision to move out here.” He wasn’t ready to tell her why—wasn’t sure if he ever would be. Burying that line of thinking deep, he asked, “So why not just ask your dad for his advice? He might surprise you.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “When something isn’t working, it’s time to do something about it. Change can be good for the soul.”

  ***

  Grace knew by the way Patrick said those last words, softly and almost to himself, that the reason he moved to Ohio, far from his family and those he loved, still troubled him. He appeared gruff and, because of his size, was intimidating at first. Deep down he was a caring man once you got to know him and talked to him.

  “Change isn’t easy,” she offered, wondering if he would accept the statement as it had been meant—as an opening for him to share more of his burden with her.

  He shrugged and rose to his feet, leaving Grace to understand that the moment was lost and further discussion of the subject had been carefully avoided. Maybe in time, he would open up and share what was troubling him. She had a feeling that it was either because of his job or something to do with his family—he did have a large one.

  “So,” he said, drawing her to stand beside him, “about getting you naked…”

  She laughed. “God, I’m so stuffed, I’d probably lose dinner if we, uh, did anything physical right now.”

  He frowned. “OK, so if you were home and this happened, what would you do?”

  “Take a long walk. I love the smell of the woods in the summertime, the rambling roses growing along peoples’ fences, and the honeysuckle vine by our back door.”

  “I don’t know if I can find any of that here,” he said. “But we can take a walk around the neighborhood.”

  There were a surprising number of people out and about in the warm summer night. “Is it always this busy?”

  He chuckled. “You’re such a country girl. There are usually more people out—but the guys at the firehouse were talking about a Triple-A game in your neck of the woods.”

  “Apple Grove?”

  He stared at her for a moment before answering, “Columbus—the Clippers.”

  “My sisters and I used to play baseball, but nothing serious. Just a bunch of us getting together, and we never watched it on TV like Pop does.”

  “Thought you were soccer fans.”

  “Well”—she smiled up at him, loving the way he listened to her as if she mattered; she’d missed that with her last boyfriend—“we sort of became interested in soccer once Dan and Meg got married.”

  After they’d been walking for a while, Patrick turned a corner so that they were working their way back to his apartment. After a few blocks, he said, “So, are you still full?”

  She grinned and started walking faster.

  He laughed as they power walked the last couple of blocks. When they reached his building, he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

  “You’ve got to stop doing that!” she protested, hanging upside down.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  He opened the door and closed it, just missing her backside as he did.

  “Where are you going?”

  He pressed his hand to the backs of her knees to keep her from kicking him as he walked. “My bedroom.”

  “OK.” If she’d been hoping for a prelude to their lovemaking, it obviously wasn’t going to happen. “Brace yourself, Bridget,” she mumbled, surprised that she was disappointed before they’d even begun.

  He set her on her feet and held her at arm’s length, staring down at her. “Did you just say ‘brace yourself ’?”

  She lifted her chin and stepped out of his arms, putting her hands on her hips—ready to do verbal battle with him. “So what if I did?”

  “Bridget?” he asked.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Let’s just forget for the moment that it’s my mother’s name,” he told her, taking one step closer, “and focus on the fact that I wasn’t planning to toss you on the bed and have my way with you.”

  “You weren’t?”

  He raised his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Please,” he said. “I’ve got mad foreplay skills.”

  She had to agree with him. The times they’d made love, she’d been gasping for breath and shivering with need. “I suppose that’s true.”

  He grabbed her hand and yanked her close until she lost her balance and tumbled against his chest. “Maybe I’d better remind you.”

  Grace had no time to think, as, in seconds, she was bombarded with mind-numbing pleasure as he proceeded to do just that.

  Later, when they’d exhausted themselves, she shifted so she could lay her head against his heart. “Mad skills,” she agreed, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter 20

  “What are you going to do with that?” he asked as Grace paused in the act of pulling a shirt over her head.

  “Wear it.”

  His sigh sounded world-weary. “I thought I explained about keeping you naked.”

  “You weren’t really serious about that,” she said. “Were you?”

  He eased off the bed and took the shirt from her. Skin to skin, heat to heat felt decadent and delicious, but going without clothes while doing everyday things like cooking and eating was beyond her comprehension.

  “I can’t.”

  He brushed her hair out of her eyes and cupped her face in his hands. “You’re way too uptight.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t go out into your kitchen and make breakfast.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “Not without clothes on.”

  He let his forehead rest against hers. “I can see this will require a breaking-in period.”

  She pushed back in his arms. “What does that mean?”

  He walked over to the side of the bed and lifted up his T-shirt. “You can borrow one of my shirts.”

  “But they’re too big and slide off my shoulders.”

  His smile was slow and lethal to her heart. “I know.”

  She took the shirt when he held it ou
t to her. “What about my underwear?”

  He shook his head. “My T-shirt or nothing.”

  She sighed. “You drive a hard bargain.” When he followed her out of the bedroom she stopped. “Aren’t you going to put something on?”

  He stared at her mouth for the longest time before letting his gaze meet hers. “Not yet.”

  She had an idea of the direction of his thoughts, but he seemed content to let her make breakfast for them while he made the coffee, distracting her with the bronzed perfection of his body.

  She burned the toast because he just had to slip past her, brushing against her until every cell in her body stood at attention—but then again, so did his.

  “I’m going to be late if you keep distracting me.”

  “How am I doing that?”

  “Don’t try to get around me with that little boy voice and feigned innocence.” She frowned. “I promised my dad that I’d be there today. Don’t make this so hard for me.”

  He stood up and heaved another deep sigh. “All right. We’ll do it your way.” He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her to scrape the blackened edges off the toast.

  When he returned, he was wearing a pair of cutoffs. “Better?”

  She swallowed the mouthful of coffee and nodded. Words could not begin to describe how yummy he looked wearing those worn out, ragged jeans shorts. She tried to eat without sneaking peaks at him but in the end gave in and openly stared.

  “What now?”

  She wiped her mouth on the napkin and set it by her plate. “Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

  His face flushed a deep rosy color. “Guys are handsome,” he began.

  “You aren’t,” she told him. When his head shot up and their gazes met, she reached for his hand and said, “Deal with it, Patrick. You’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

  He watched her in silence then slowly shook his head. “That’s like saying a guy’s pretty,” he grumbled.

  “Your looks go way beyond mere pretty,” she told him as she rose to her feet and kissed the top of his head. “I’ve got to grab a shower or I’ll be late.”

  “How about if you text your dad and explain that we’re running behind? I’ll show you just how relaxing sharing a shower can be.”

  Joe Mulcahy hadn’t raised any fools. Grace sent the text and shed his shirt on her way down the hall. Patrick’s shorts were by the bathroom door when she wrapped her legs around his waist and he stepped into the shower.

  “Now,” he rasped, “you let my fingers work their magic and I can promise you an unparalleled relaxation experience.”

  She nipped his bottom lip and kissed him deeply. “Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

  His response was to turn on the hot water and let it rain down on them while he kissed her long, hard, and deep. When she was writhing against him, he pressed her back against the icy-cold tiles and tormented first one breast and then the other, moving back and forth, licking, nipping, and suckling her until she tensed beneath him and gave a low guttural cry as her release tore through her.

  Weak as water, he let her legs slip down until he could brace her with one hand and lather her body with the other—every inch of her until she thought she’d go mad from the sensations zinging beneath her skin and singing from wherever his clever hands and magic mouth touched.

  Grace felt like a warm, wet noodle. Her body might be limp, but her brain had started functioning again. “What about relaxing you?”

  “Baby,” he growled, “I get off watching you come.” He kissed her, adding, “My turn comes later tonight.”

  He turned off the water and stood her in the middle of the bath mat, toweling her dry with infinite care and a tenderness that had her throat constricting and tears welling up in her eyes.

  When he looked up, the expression in his eyes instantly changed from sensual to concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, unable to put what she felt into words. But she could still show him. Her hands linked around his neck, their bodies snug against one another. Heart-to-heart, face-to-face, she lifted her lips to meet his, pouring the love, tenderness, and caring he’d shown her into her kiss.

  Without speaking, they watched one another slowly cover bits and pieces of skin that had been kissed and scrubbed and then kissed some more. Dressed, ready to face the outside world, they drove back to Apple Grove.

  ***

  When Patrick dropped her off at the front door to the shop, she asked him if he had plans for his day off. He grinned. “I’ll be wrastling with two little rug rats while Dan keeps an eye on Deidre so Meg can finish Mr. Weatherbee’s plumbing repair.”

  “That ought to keep you busy for most of the day.”

  “I’ll be back at lunchtime.” He bent to brush her lips with his, marveling at the way the woman had come apart in his arms in his shower. There were so many different ways to make love to a woman and so many different places to explore. He looked forward to each and every one.

  She was smiling as he waved and drove down Main Street, turning right onto Elm. A glance at her watch told her she’d better hustle if she was going to accomplish what she’d planned for the day. She was already an hour behind.

  Humming to herself, she powered up the computer and listened to the messages on the answering machine. Only a handful of calls—things were going so smoothly since hiring Charlie and Tommy for the summer.

  “Maybe they’ll find jobs locally and can help us out in a pinch.” As soon as she said that, she could have smacked herself in the head. “Now I sound like everyone who wished I’d done the same.”

  Setting unproductive thoughts aside, she finished deleting the last of the corrupted files, password protecting the templates she’d uploaded. “At least they’ll have the templates. I can’t do anything about somebody deleting the working files.”

  Adding the revised templates and files to her memory stick—and her backup memory stick—Grace was surprised when Patrick walked into the office. “Is it lunchtime already?”

  “Time flies.” He was grinning when he lifted her out of her chair, swung her around, and planted his lips on hers. “Did you talk to your dad today?”

  “Not yet, but I will. I don’t think I can go back to my routine in Columbus.” She kissed him deeply. “I’ve seen the light and am wondering when we can spend another day naked.”

  He laughed and hugged her tight. “God, I love you, Grace Mulcahy.”

  Tears filled her eyes as emotion overwhelmed her. “I’m glad.”

  He chuckled. “Not the response I was hoping for.” He kissed her playfully and urged, “Try again.”

  She laughed with him. “I love you so much it scares me.”

  “Good to know I’m not the only one who feels that way.”

  “I didn’t think anything in the world scared you,” she said.

  “Right now, there are two things that do,” he told her, “how much I love you and the thought of losing you.”

  She smiled. “Then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  He linked arms with her. “Come on.”

  She started walking toward the diner when he tugged on her hand. “This way.” He led her across the street and down toward the gazebo.

  “I thought we were going to have lunch.”

  “We are.”

  Instead of stopping at one of the park benches beneath the shade trees, he kept going until they’d crossed the green and were walking down Purity Road. Blackbirds were singing, and in the distance, she heard a hawk.

  “So where are we going?”

  He drew in a deep breath and answered her question with a question, “Does the air always smell this fresh out here?”

  She giggled. “Here, yes. Out by the Parrish and McCormack farms? Not always.”

  He’d caught on to what she’d been hinting at. “They have cows and chickens?”

  “Yes, and a horse or two.”

  “Ah. Sweet country air.”

&
nbsp; They were both enjoying the day and one another’s company. “Over here,” he said, pulling her toward the elementary school and the shade of the oak trees lining the playground.

  “Oh!” Hand to her heart, Grace looked down at the plaid blanket spread out under the tree with a picnic basket sitting in the middle of it. “A picnic?”

  “I know you like being outside and, hey,” he said, “on a day like today, it’s a shame to have to be inside.”

  They lowered themselves to the blanket and Grace couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. “Where did you get the basket?”

  “Mary.”

  “Who made lunch?”

  “Everybody.”

  She opened the lid and exclaimed. “Salads, sandwiches, pickles, and dessert?”

  He took out the thermos and poured two cups of iced coffee. “Mary contributed the macaroni and potato salads. Kate made the sandwiches—she swore your favorite was liverwurst and onions, but I didn’t believe her, so I asked for ham and cheese on rye and peanut butter and jelly just in case.”

  “I love liverwurst,” she laughed when he made a face at her. “But I’ll pick off the onions.”

  He looked sheepish when he admitted, “I asked her to leave those off. I figured since I wasn’t eating them and planned to kiss you until your eyes crossed, then you couldn’t have any either.”

  “Oh really?” She liked the thought of him kissing her until she couldn’t see straight. “Hey, these look like Mrs. Winter’s bread and butter pickles.”

  He nodded. “She said you were partial to them.”

  “And the pie?”

  “Peggy made an extra buttermilk pie just because I asked her nicely and remembered to use the magic word.”

  Grace’s heart nearly burst with pleasure at the trouble he’d gone to for her.

  Before she could thank him, he leaned close and brushed a featherlight kiss across her lips. “Now unless you plan to just sit here and neck with me, you’d better stop tempting me, woman, and eat your lunch.”

  While they ate, they chatted about Dan and Meg’s boys and baby Deidre, Cait’s battle to keep food down. Then they talked about the amazing job Charlie and Tommy were doing for Mulcahys. But there was one subject Patrick hadn’t talked about—but she could live with that for now. She’d given her word. He did talk about his current job, but only gave her brief highlights about the last few shifts he’d worked, leaving her to wonder about the details.