Embracing Her Heart

by Melissa Foster

“Sure we do.” Ella looked adoringly at Grace. “She’s just living someplace else. But Grace could teach someone.”

  “Oh, Ella, I don’t know about that,” Grace said. “But if you start small, I’m sure you can find someone with enough experience to get it off the ground.”

  “I know just the person!” Meggie exclaimed. “I had a client, Mr. Mosby, who’s niece was in theater in Chicago. Mr. Mosby said she was talking about moving back to Wishing Creek to be near her mama, who’s been living overseas for the past few years. Her mama had married a rich French man and, well, I guess he found a younger model. Mr. Mosby said she was over the moon about the reunion. Can you imagine? After all those years? Why, I think I’d cry a river if I went that long without seeing my mama…”

  She continued talking, but Reed’s mind had taken a detour, and now he was thinking about Frank again. Tension puddled in his gut, seeping through his veins, until his jaw was so tight he stepped away from the group to keep them from noticing.

  Meggie followed him and said, “Anyway, if you go that direction, I’d be happy to reach out to Mr. Mosby and connect you two, if you’d like.”

  Reed gritted his teeth, trying to temper his frustration. Why the hell couldn’t he put Frank out of his head? “Thanks, Meggie. I’ll keep that in mind. I think we’ve seen enough. I appreciate you coming out.”

  “Okeydokey. I’ll see you at settlement. You just give me a holler if you need me between now and then.” She winked at Grace and said, “But I’d imagine you’ll be a little busy as long as Grace is in town.”

  They headed outside, and after Meggie drove way, Grace said, “Are you okay?”

  His gut reaction was to say yes, to shrug off his angst and move on, but the concern in Grace’s eyes deserved the truth. “Just trying to shake off some history of my own.”

  “Frank?” she asked. “Maybe you just need to talk to him. Hear what he has to say. He is your father, Reed.”

  Reed shook his head and pointed to Roy. “That man is, and always will be, my father.”

  “Son, I love you—you know that—but you are one stubborn son of a gun.” Roy held his gaze as he closed the distance between them.

  “You want me to talk to that guy?” Reed tried to temper his anger, but it bubbled out in his rising voice. “The guy who turned his back on me? Who tossed me in your laps with no regard for what life plans you had?”

  “Hey,” Ella said sharply. “Don’t you go there, sweetheart. The minute you were born, you took hold of our hearts and you’ve never let go.”

  “I’m sorry, Ella. I know that,” he conceded. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—”

  “We know what you meant,” Roy said. “And we know how difficult this is for you, because we’re just as tormented by his reappearing in our lives. But he’s your fathe—”

  “No,” Reed hollered. “You’re my father. You will always be my father. As far as I’m concerned, he’s just the man who supplied the sperm. No more important than an anonymous donor.”

  Sadness washed over Roy as he placed his hands on Reed’s shoulders and spoke solemnly. “No, son. I’m the lucky man who got to raise you. But he’ll always be your father. You can’t deny blood any more than you can deny that a part of your mother lives on in your love of history.”

  “Goddamn it.” Reed tried to twist out of his uncle’s grip, but Roy held him too tight. “I’m finally happy and whole, and you want me to put it all on the line for a guy who couldn’t give his own son the time of day?”

  “No,” Roy said, hands tightening on Reed’s shoulders. “I want you to think about this long and hard before you run from it.”

  “I’ve never run from a thing,” Reed seethed.

  Roy’s gaze darted to Grace for only a fraction of a second, but that was long enough for Reed to connect the dots back to when he’d left town after high school.

  Roy lowered his hands and said, “You feel whole right now because you think you’re in control and because you have us and Grace and a project to bury your thoughts in. But that anger you’re carrying around will eat away at you worse than anything Frank could ever say. All I’m asking is that you think about talking to him and deal with the anger before it deals with you.”

  “I have nothing to say to him,” Reed said tightly.

  “You don’t have to convince me, son,” Roy said. “Just ask yourself one question. When you have children of your own, what will you tell them about your father? That he came to talk to you and you turned him away? Are you going to spread your anger to your children? Have them hate the man for what he did to you? Because I sure as hell hope we raised you better than that.”

  Ella stepped tentatively toward Reed. “We love you, honey, and we’ll support whatever you decide.”

  “Will you?” Reed kept his eyes trained on Roy, who nodded curtly, then headed for his truck.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  TENSION ROLLED OFF Reed like gusts of wind as he climbed rigidly into the driver’s seat, his jaw working overtime. He started the truck and gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles blanched. Grace knew of only one way to tame that type of emotional turmoil—complete and utter sidetracking.

  “Do you still have the blankets in the truck?”

  He nodded curtly, just as his uncle had.

  “Great. Two stops. Pastry Palace and Dempsey’s Overpass.”

  Dempsey’s Overpass was a dilapidated covered bridge they’d come across when they were teenagers looking for a private place to park and fool around. The bridge was located down an old country road that hadn’t been in use since the new overpass was built a few miles farther downstream. Below the bridge was a service road, also out of use and blocked with a concrete barrier. They used to drive around that barrier and park down by the water. It was the one place they gravitated toward whenever one of them was in a bad mood.

  He pulled swiftly out of the lot, and Grace put her hand on his rock-hard thigh. If she’d been with any other man who was strung this tight, she might worry he’d snap and lash out at her, but not Reed. She didn’t say another word as he drove to Wishing Creek, and by the time they arrived, he was breathing a little easier. He put his hand over hers, locking them together. She leaned against him, glad to feel some of his tension falling away.

  When they reached Pastry Palace, she said, “Just pull up out front and I’ll run in.”

  He parked by the curb, but he didn’t release her hand, staring out the front window for a long, silent moment before finally lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. He placed her palm to his cheek and leaned into it, closing his eyes. Grace put her arms around him, and he returned the embrace, holding her so tight, she could feel how deeply he was hurting.

  “Sorry, Gracie. I feel like a runaway train when I think of Frank, and I don’t know how to put on the brakes.”

  “I know, and I understand. Wait until you see me when a production goes wrong. I’m like the Tasmanian devil, only louder. I get it.”

  He kissed her neck, her cheek, and then his mouth found hers, tenderly at first, then frantic and rough, as if he could escape the pain of the unknown through their love. And oh, how she wished he could. She took as eagerly as she gave, wanting to erase his pain. She didn’t care that they were parked on the main drag or that anyone walking by could see them making out. All that mattered was that Reed was her world, and he needed her.

  “Why are we here?” he asked heatedly, his fingers tangling in her hair.

  She grinned and said, “There’s only one remedy for this type of angst.”

  Confusion riddled his brow, and she kissed those worry lines. Then she crawled over him, squeezing in between the steering wheel and his broad chest.

  “I like where this is headed.” He flashed a cocky grin.

  She gave him a sweet kiss, opened his door, and climbed off his lap and out of the truck. “Try to hold on to those thoughts while I grab provisions.”

  A few minutes later, Grace was back in
the truck, her hand on his thigh, her fingers tucked between his legs as he drove toward their destination. His body heat burned through the thick denim. She cuddled closer, feeling a lot like she had all those years ago, completely head over heels with a man who was as easy to read as he was to love. She pressed her lips to his shoulder, breathing him in. When he laced their fingers together, she squeezed his leg, inching her fingertips to the juncture of his thighs.

  “Grace,” he said in warning.

  He placed his hand on hers, moving it to his erection, and her entire body wanted to open up for him. Her heart hammered foolishly, like they were teenagers sneaking out to console each other. As kids Reed had been the salve to her worries, her secret treasure at the end of her days. Now he was her everything. She unhooked her seat belt and went up on her knees as he drove around the roadblock and headed down the old service road toward the river. She hadn’t been down this road for so many years, she didn’t expect recognition to hit her as they ambled along the steep hill. Adrenaline and desire sped through her as she kissed his neck, stroking him through his jeans, earning one sinful, greedy noise after another. His big hand still covered hers, squeezing her fingers tight against his erection.

  He parked by the riverbank and kissed her slow and deep. His masculine scent coalesced with the pungent smell of damp earth, and memories gathered around them like old friends.

  “I’m crazy about you, baby,” he said in a gravelly voice. “I remember the first time we came here. We were both upset about having to hide our relationship.”

  “We said we’d tell everyone the next day.”

  “But the next day was homecoming, and we both thought we should wait.”

  They were breathing hard from the emotional evening and the heat between them, and surely from the memories knocking on their door. Grace took in the old covered bridge standing sentinel against the gray night sky, its weathered wooden boards missing in places, hanging cockeyed in others. The long grass on the hill shifted in the May breeze, bringing a memory, clear as the love between them, of sometime before they’d broken up. A week, a month, she couldn’t be sure, but she remembered confiding in Reed her biggest secret. As much as she’d wanted to go to New York, she’d been terrified of leaving everything she knew and loved behind, despite the fact that Sophie would be going with her and attending the same school. He’d looked into her eyes with the most earnest expression, those dark blue eyes of his giving her courage before he’d even spoken a word. But then his words had given her even more fortitude: You’re the bravest, strongest girl I know. There’s nothing you can’t do, Gracie, and I’ll be cheering you on every step of the way. She’d clung to those words so often, she was sure they had been the shovels that had dug the holes for her roots to begin sprouting in the concrete jungle.

  “It was always me and you,” she said as he climbed from the truck.

  Reed put his arms around her, pulling her to the edge of the seat and wedging himself between her legs. He buried his face in her chest, holding her tight.

  Seconds later he was studying her face. “Why is your heart beating so hard?”

  “I just realized how selfish I was when we broke up.”

  “Don’t you ever think that, Grace. We both thought I would never leave here, and we both knew you had to.”

  “But I was watching out for me,” she said with an apologetic gaze. “It was selfish.”

  “All kids are selfish at that age. Hell, I was supremely selfish. I’m the one who said I’d never leave, remember? A better boyfriend would have said he’d follow you anywhere.”

  He brushed her hair over her shoulders, the anger and tension she’d seen replaced with that serious, loving look that made her insides dip and flip.

  “In the long run, you did what was best for both of us. If I’d stayed here I never would have made enough money to buy the theater. Let it go, babe. We both made mistakes, but you ending our relationship when you went to college wasn’t one of them.”

  She nodded, afraid if she opened her mouth, she might ask him why he was so willing to forgive her but not willing to even speak to his father. But she knew the answer. Their decision had been mutual, but Frank’s was one-sided, and what reason could be valid enough to warrant walking away from his own child? Maybe some wounds really were too deep to ever heal.

  She grabbed the bakery bag while Reed collected the blanket and spread it on the grass. As she watched him, she wondered how he fought his curiosity. She wanted to know Frank’s reasons—for closure for Reed as much as to find out the answers herself. And she couldn’t stop thinking about what his uncle had asked him about his future children. That was something she hadn’t thought about, but Roy was right. How did a parent handle such a touchy situation? Was there a right way to do it? She knew Reed wasn’t ready to talk about any of that yet, so she tried to move past it for now.

  She tugged off her boots, pointed to the blanket, and said, “Sit.”

  The heated look in Reed’s eyes made her all kinds of glad she’d tabled the heavier topic. He sank down to his butt, and she pulled off his boots, aware of his watching her every move.

  “The night we broke up…” She straddled his hips and reached for the bakery bag. “I went to Pastry Palace and bought every éclair they had. All seven of them. Then I drove out here, but when I got to the top of the hill, I saw your truck by the water. I sat for the longest time watching you. You were pacing, and then you sat, your knees pulled up, arms crossed over them, head down. A few minutes later you paced again. I cried a river that night and ate every single one of the pastries. And when I got home, you texted me and said you could feel me all around you.”

  “You were here…? All that time?”

  She took a pastry from the bag. “Yes, but I knew if I came down, we’d end up in each other’s arms, and that would have been even harder. I don’t know what you’re thinking about Frank, or Roy, or any of it, and I don’t need to know until you’re ready to talk about it. But this”—she broke the éclair in half and set half on the bag—“will certainly help.”

  She dipped her finger into the creamy center. His gaze blazed through her as he grabbed her wrist and sucked her finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. She made a seductive show of licking more cream from the pastry.

  “Mm. Try…” She held the éclair by his lips.

  He chomped off a hunk, and in the next second he had her pinned to the blanket, devouring her with chocolate, creamy kisses. He pushed roughly at her shirt, thrusting it up over her breasts and taking her bra with it. He moaned appreciatively as he lowered his mouth over one breast, sucking so hard she felt herself go damp. She clung to his hair, arching against his mouth. The graze of his teeth had her clawing at his back, pushing at the waist of his jeans, whimpering and begging—begging!—for more.

  “Fuck the sweets. You’re all I ever need,” he rasped against her breast as he drove her out of her blessed mind.

  THEIR SHIRTS FLEW through the air. Grace’s bra went next. She sat on the blanket and wiggled out of her jeans as Reed stepped from his and kicked them to the side. She reached for him, her naked body bathed in moonlight. He took her hand and sank down to his knees, riveted by the love in her eyes.

  He lowered himself down slowly, drinking in her smooth warmth as their thighs touched, and the feel of her wetness against the head of his cock. Her fingers trailed lightly along his back as their chests melded together. She didn’t close her eyes or look away. She held his gaze, just as she had the very first night they’d made love, looking a little nervous and truly, utterly, captivatingly beautiful. He cradled her within his arms, his fingers curling around her shoulders, and brushed his lips over hers.

  “I want to tell you everything.” He kissed her softly. “After…”

  Their mouths and bodies came together heavy and urgent and somehow also weightless and easy. She glanced down at their connected bodies, her eyes hazy with desire.

  “Go really slow,” she whisp
ered.

  They weren’t good at slow, but she was well aware of how every kiss made them crave each other even more. Driving him wild used to be her favorite game. How could he have forgotten the way she used to love to beg him to go painfully slow, so they both felt every inch of his cock, the heat and tightness of her sex, followed by the slow drag of cold air as he withdrew, then the rush of heat that consumed them as her body swallowed all of him again.

  She pressed into his flesh, pushing him deeper as she lifted her hips, silently telling him to drive even deeper—past the point where he felt he could go no further. He thrust slowly and continuously, until her arousal drenched his balls, and it was physically impossible to bury himself any deeper.

  “Oh!” Her voice was high-pitched, needy. “Stay right there.”

  Using his toes for leverage and grasping her shoulders so he could hold her still at the same time, he rocked his hips.

  “Oh…Yes!”

  Her nails cut into his skin as her hips moved up and down in a quick, dizzying pattern.

  “Staystill­staystill­staystill,” she pleaded.

  Like he’d change a thing? Not a chance. Her inner muscles squeezed him so tight, he fought against the urge to drive into her fast and frantic and pull them both over the edge. Her eyes slammed closed, her neck arched, and in the next breath, she was writhing, clawing at his skin, her body spasming around his shaft. Her face contorted with pleasure as a string of indiscernible sounds flew from her lips. Heat shot down his spine, pooling at the base like a pulsing bomb ready to blow. He fought against the pressure, wanting to stay in this blissful moment, to sear their bodies together, so they’d never be apart again. Her noises turned sweet, slipping soft and alluring from her lungs. Her eyelids fluttered, and tremors vibrated through her, teasing his cock with deathly precision.

  “Gotta move—”

  His words were both demanding and apologetic as his body took over. He pulled her legs around his thighs. Her heels dug into them as he pushed his hands beneath her ass, lifting and tilting, hitting the spot he knew would send her flying again. He captured her mouth, electricity arcing and peaking inside him, between them, around them, turbulent and erotic. Hypnotizing. Every inch of him—from his scalp to his abs and back, all the way down to the tips of his toes—ignited as she moaned into their kisses, her body shuddering with ecstasy, shattering his last thread of restraint. Hot tides of passion raged through him as he struggled to remain coherent enough to try to pleasure her even more relentlessly. But he was lost in a whirl of sensations, unable to hold on to a single thought, and surrendered to the magnificent force of their love.