“Ah, gene...”
Garrett’s hand rested on her thigh. The shock of his touch, so warm it heated through her denim skirt, nearly made her swerve off the road. All afternoon she’d been trying to avoid him—hiding in her darkroom.
“It was as much my fault as Donnie’s,” he said. “Why don’t you let me pay?”
“Because Donnie needs to learn responsibility.” Taking his hand, she moved it away from her thigh.
“It was a pretty big window. Expensive, I’d guess. Maybe a couple of hundred dollars.”
Feeling slightly sick to her stomach, she made a quick mental inventory of her checking account. “All right, if you insist.” She shot him a glance. “You can pay ninety percent.”
The deep, booming roll of his laughter spread over her like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. He was a hard man not to like, even more difficult to keep at a distance. Ever since his botched marriage to Hailey, he’d insinuated himself into every facet of her life, both waking and sleeping. And now they’d been lovers. Again.
If he pressed, even a little, she doubted she’d be able to keep her vow to stay out of his bed when Donnie was in the house. And yet she knew whatever decision she made would only be temporary. Early this morning, she’d heard him talking on the phone to his agent.
He’d leave Grazer’s Corners—the sooner the better from his perspective. And she’d be left behind.
Almost as soon as she’d come to a stop in front of the Arden farmhouse, Donnie blasted out of the car. It was like he’d been gone for years and couldn’t wait to get back to his old familiar stomping grounds.
With equal speed, Hailey appeared on the front porch. Garrett lingered near the car.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come,” she cried, hurrying down the steps. “I was gone for a while and I didn’t know the boys had been here. And then I found Rambo. I thought he’d died. I didn’t know what to do so I—”
“It’s okay, Hailey.” Hugging her sister-in-law, Charity tried to calm the young woman.
“I feel just awful. I mean, there’s nothing I do around the farm that’s right. I wanted so much to please Bud, and all I do is mess up. I even got sick to my stomach trying to help him take care of some new little pigs.”
“I don’t think Bud cares if you’re the best hog farmer in the world. He loves you. For him, that’s enough.”
Struggling to calm herself, Hailey smiled weakly. She looked over Charity’s shoulder at Garrett, who was standing beside the car. “Thanks for coming. I know you didn’t have to—”
“Relax, Hailey.” He tucked his fingertips into his jeans pockets, pulling the fabric taut across his pelvis. “There’re no hard feelings on my part.”
Charity wondered again that Hailey had chosen Bud over a man like Garrett. In her view, however much she might love her brother, there was no comparison between the two men.
They found Rambo pretty well passed out in the barnyard. He opened one blurry eye as they approached, grunted a miserable-sounding groonk and closed it again. He looked like he had the grandmother of all headaches.
“Is there such a thing as AA for hogs?” Garrett asked.
“Not that I know of.” She gave the animal a gentle pat on the snout. He didn’t even budge, though he started to snore. “Donnie,” she called. “Bring the hose around. We’ve got to cool Rambo off. Then we’ve got to get him into the shade. He’ll get sunburned if we don’t.”
“Sunburned?” Garrett raised his brows.
“They have very sensitive skin, almost like humans.”
“Apparently they don’t have any more sense than humans do, at least not about overindulging.” Garrett gave Rambo a tentative shove with his foot. “Don’t tell me I’m supposed to move this ton of pork chops.”
“I won’t. But that’s exactly what we have to do.”
Getting Rambo on his feet was like getting any other thousand-pound drunk moving. Not easy.
Grunting as he lifted Rambo’s rear end, Garrett said, “I’m gonna have a long talk with those kids. Assuming I can still walk tomorrow.”
“You know where to find the youngsters who are doing this to us?” Charity asked.
“I’ve got a pretty damn good idea.”
By the time they were through, they were all laughing and cursing—words unfit for Donnie’s ears, but Charity didn’t have the strength to worry about it. She rationalized he’d probably heard worse on the school yard or soccer field.
It troubled her, though, that Hailey seemed so at loose ends when she tried to help. Raised in the country-club set, she was definitely a fish out of water. Charity could only hope the learning curve would improve a little. She was sure Bud had intended that they remain on the farm and raise their family there. She wasn’t so sure that would make Hailey happy, however determined she might be to please her new husband.
Garrett, on the other hand, wasn’t at all uncomfortable with farm chores. And he, too, was a part of that same country-club set. Choking back a giggle, she supposed she ought to give him credit for having expanded his horizons.
IT WAS AFTER DINNER when Garrett finally had a chance to catch Charity alone. She’d gone back into her darkroom—he was beginning to think of it as her cave—right after they’d cleaned up the kitchen. He’d waited impatiently, and the instant the red light switched off, he was inside with her, pulling the door closed behind him and turning the light back on. The interior glowed in the muted light, the scent of freshly poured chemicals pungent.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, her eyes wide with surprise.
“I’m going crazy, that’s what I’m doing. Rolling in the hay with a drunken hog is not how I want to spend my time with you.”
He hauled her into his arms and silenced her startled objection with his mouth. For just an instant, she resisted, then melted into his arms, parting her lips for him. He reveled in her taste, the sweet, honeyed warmth of her. The heat that had been simmering in him all day rose to the boiling point, scorching him where her breasts pillowed against his chest.
He ran his hands over her back, splaying them across the swell of her hips, pulling her hard against his arousal.
She made a soft mewling sound, her tongue partnering with his, her fingers kneading the muscles of his back.
Blood pounded through his veins, and his breathing was harsh.
“Aw, cinnamon girl...” He lifted her blouse and cupped her breast. His thumb flicked over lace and nylon, pebbling her nipple, the weight of her breast soft and pliant in his palm.
She groaned softly. “We can’t...Donnie...”
“He won’t come in, not with the red light on.”
Garrett was afraid she might push him away, but she stayed with him, feathering kisses along his jaw, teasing at his lips. As hungry and eager as he.
“He might need me....”
“He’ll call or knock.” Garrett was the one who needed her now.
He rocked her into the nest of his hips, pressing her more tightly against him, angling her body so she could feel him in that sensitive V between her legs.
“Oh...”
Her sweet sigh of pleasure aroused him with masculine pride. There was no way she could deny she wanted him. He hadn’t meant to take her here in the darkroom—had just wanted a kiss, had wanted to convince her to come to his bed later that night—but he could feel himself reaching the brink of control. No other woman had ever brought him to a fever pitch so quickly. None.
But he couldn’t—
Suddenly her hands were on the snap of his jeans. It snicked open, and the zipper slid down, releasing him.
“Charity, you can’t mean—”
“Hurry, Garrett. Please.” Her whispered plea promised the moon and stars, heaven. “I’ve wanted this all day. Wanted you.”
“Aw, baby...” No man would have the willpower to resist that invitation. Garrett didn’t try.
Catching her around the waist, he lifted her, balancing her on the edge of the counter, h
ip high. Her panties, no more than a wisp of fabric, ripped as he pulled them from beneath her skirt. Her sandals dropped to the floor with a plop.
Her kisses rained down on his face. “This is crazy,” she sobbed. “I can’t stop.”
He swallowed her muted cries with a deeper kiss, then lifted her again, inserting himself into her hot, honeyed sheath. A shudder went through her, and she went very still. Slowly he pressed. Her legs wrapped around him. He thrust again, harder, deeper, straining to keep himself in check, to give her all the pleasure she deserved. He slipped his hand between them, stroking her.
Her head lolled back, baring the tender column of her neck to his view. Her breath came in quick little pants.
The glow from the overhead light made everything seem surreal, the most erotic dream Garrett had ever imagined. But she was real. And he drove into her again.
Her release tightened around him, pumping, drawing everything he had from his body. He clamped his mouth shut to stifle the shout of joy that threatened to erupt.
“Oh, my...” she sighed. Her head dropped to his shoulder. “Nothing ought to feel that good.”
“Yeah.” He kissed the damp beads of perspiration that sheened her forehead. “After Donnie goes to bed tonight, come to my room. Or let me come to yours.”
She trembled in his arms. “Yes, I’ll come.”
He held her a moment longer, then moved back and helped her down from the counter.
“Hey, Mom!” Donnie pounded on the door. “You gonna be done in there pretty soon?”
Garrett met her gaze, and his lips hitched up. “Perfect timing,” he murmured.
Even in the red light, he could see her blush deepen. Shaking her head, she called to her son. “I’ll be right there, sweetheart. Just give me a minute.”
Chapter Eleven
Charity cuddled against the hard, masculine body next to her. Inhaling, she caught the scent of musk and sex, his and hers. Dimly she realized she’d have to get up soon and go to her own bed. But her body was still limp with exhaustion from Garrett’s lovemaking. Even after the quick release of their desire in the darkroom, one more time had not been enough. She’d come eagerly to his bed later in the evening. Talk about a man with endurance!
She grinned sleepily and stretched, feeling the pleasant tenderness between her legs. Come to think of it, she’d kept up with him pretty dam good, if she did say so herself. And she’d never imagined she would do anything like she had in the darkroom. She wouldn’t be able to step into the place without remembering...and blushing.
“Mom! Come quick!”
She bolted upright in bed, her eyes blinking, her heart beating like an out-of-balance threshing machine. She shoved her hair back from her face.
It wasn’t night at all. The morning sun streamed in through the window—Garrett’s bedroom window. He was there next to her, his hair mussed, a sheet barely covering the lower half of his naked body.
Not even that much covered hers.
“Oh, my God...” What would Donnie think if he found her here?
Scrambling off the bed, she snatched up the robe she’d dropped to the floor last night and tugged it on. Her nightgown was nowhere in sight. She wasn’t at all sure exactly when or where she’d shed that. Not that it mattered now.
“What’s wrong?” Mumbling, Garrett shifted on the bed and the sheet settled even lower.
“For heaven’s sake, cover yourself up,” she hissed, shoving her feet into her terry slippers. “Donnie could come in here any second.”
Yawning, he stretched. “Why would he wanna do that?”
Charity clamped her teeth together. The man was impossible. Didn’t he realize—?
“Mom? Where are you?”
Mortified to have been caught, she wrapped the ties of her robe and hurried to the door, yanking it open.
Her son was standing right there, wide-eyed, his cheeks flushed, wearing cotton pajamas, so innocent it nearly broke her heart. Would he now be disillusioned by her wanton behavior?
She swallowed hard. “Good morning, sweetheart. What seems to be the problem?” The smile she forced felt like a rubber band that had lost its elasticity.
“It’s Rambo, Mom. He’s in the backyard. I heard him snorting and honking—”
“In Garrett’s backyard?”
“Yeah. I looked outside and I think he’s making a real mess. I hope Garrett’s not gonna be too mad.”
“What don’t you want me to be mad about?”
Charity’s head snapped around. Garrett had appeared in the bedroom doorway, and he was wearing only briefs—blue ones. Oh, damn! Couldn’t he have at least pulled on some jeans?
“It’s Rambo.” Donnie grabbed his idol’s hand, trying to tug him down the hallway. “I don’t know how he got here, but he’s making a real mess. It isn’t my fault. Honest, it isn’t.”
“I know that, sport.”
“Wait! Don’t you dare go outside dressed like that, Garrett Keeley.” Good grief! What would people think? “Put some pants on.”
“Anything you say, ma’am.” His grin was positively sinful as he went back into the bedroom and returned a moment later with his jeans.
She blew out a relieved sigh.
At least Donnie hadn’t questioned why she’d come out of Garrett’s room first thing in the morning with hardly a stitch of clothes on. Obviously she wasn’t cut out for the role of lover. She had too many other responsibilities, to her son and to her pig farm. Just look what had happened without her there to oversee the place. Clearly someone had left a gate open, allowing Rambo to get out of the yard. She doubted it had been Bud.
THE BACKYARD vegetable garden, planted by the prior owner of the house, was in shambles. Rambo had neatly rooted through a row of young carrots, devoured the better part of a spring asparagus crop and was now taste-testing the green onions. From the looks of things, his rapid recovery from his hangover had given him a ravenous appetite, as well as the urge to travel.
“Phew, Mom. Rambo stinks of onions.” Donnie sat astride the hog, tugging at his ears to get him to leave the garden. He wasn’t having much luck.
Rambo objected to his mistreatment with a wronk and kept right on eating.
“Get him out of there, son.”
Doing his best, Donnie kicked his heels into the hog’s ribs. Since he was barefoot and couldn’t get a lot of leverage around the bulk of the animal, Rambo didn’t even notice.
“Don’t worry about it,” Garrett said, appearing to enjoy the whole ridiculous scene. “Looks to me like the crop is a total loss.”
“I’m sorry, Garrett.”
He slid his arm around her waist. She’d taken time to pull on jeans and a top, but Garrett’s half-dressed, bronzed, muscular body made him look like Adonis in the long rays of morning light, though she might have hoped he’d bothered to close the top snap on his jeans. Nonetheless—or maybe because of his casual ease with his own body—she wished she had her camera with her. He’d make a wonderful study in masculine beauty, perfect for a living-art class. Except she didn’t like the idea of any other woman ogling him, fellow artist or not.
“Come on,” she said, “let’s see if we can get that animal under control. Do you have a rope?”
“There might be something we can use in the garage, maybe a clothesline.” Still with his arm around her, Garrett sidestepped them away from Rambo’s path. “Based on what we saw yesterday, and now your hog getting loose, I’m not sure Hailey’s going to make it as a fanner’s wife.”
Oinking contentedly in spite of Donnie’s continued efforts to play cowboy on his back, Rambo started on a row of radishes.
“Of course she is,” Charity said in her sister-in-law’s defense, though she had a fair share of doubts herself. “Hailey’s an Arden now. She’ll get the hang of things. She just needs a little time.”
Garrett tucked a strand of her unkempt hair behind her ear, sending a shiver of awareness down her spine. There was tenderness in his eyes and memories of t
he night they’d shared. There was something else, too, which Charity couldn’t quite identify.
“I’d say family was the most important thing in the world to you,” he said softly. “And you’re already including Hailey in that protective circle of yours.”
“We Ardens have always had to stick together. Gramps used to say that made us strong.” But it hadn’t made Charity’s mother strong; she’d vowed to do better.
“I envy you.” With the sun haloing his blond hair—and a thousand pounds of hog rooting in his garden—Garrett lowered his head to kiss her.
“Well, I never!”
They both jumped at the haughty, well-cultured voice of the neighbor, Mrs. Buckworthy. Charity instantly recognized the formidable woman from the photos she’d taken of the local garden club for the Grazer Gazette—and was just as quickly mortified to have been caught kissing a half-naked Garrett in his backyard first thing in the morning.
“I want to know the meaning of having a pig... a carnivorous pig in this neighborhood.” Mrs. Buckworthy carried gardening gloves, wore a straw hat and had a decidedly angry scowl on her face.
“He’s a hog and he only eats vegetable matter, ma’am,” Charity said.
The older woman granted Charity a briefly scathing look before addressing Garrett. “Yesterday I had my window broken, young man, and today my garden has been decimated by this...this creature.” She gestured dismissively toward Rambo. “I don’t know what the Realtor told you, but we have zoning laws in this town. We won’t stand idly by and see our neighborhood turned into a barnyard...or a daycare center and worse.” She shot both Donnie and Charity an insulting look.
Garrett began in a soothing tone. “Mrs. Buckworthy, I’m sure we can—”
“My son has as much right to be here as you do, Mrs. Buckworthy.” Bristling, Charity interrupted, not nearly as ready to mollify the woman as Garrett.
Mrs. Buckworthy’s eyebrows rose infinitesimally, communicating more disdain and disapproval in that single gesture than she could have said in a thousand words. “We are not accustomed to unwed couples in the neighborhood shacking up together.” She whispered the accusing euphemism as though the mere thought offended her.
The Hog-Tied Groom (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #3) Page 14
