GARRETT TOOK county roads south of town to Grazer Community Hospital, passing farms marked with old houses and rows of ragged eucalyptus trees used as windbreaks. Small herds of cattle munched lazily on summer-dry grass or stood in the shade of an occasional sprawling live oak. In a plowed field, a tractor kicked up a line of dust that hung immobile in the windless air.
Garrett had liked living in the city. The excitement had worked for him—night spots, beautiful women, a chance to dissipate residual adrenaline after a big game.
As a young man, he’d been eager to get away from the slow pace of Grazer’s Comers. Now it struck him as a good place to raise a kid. The town had decent schools, and youngsters had plenty of open space to mess around in where the worst mischief they could do was getting a hog soused on a keg of beer. There was little crime—assuming you ignored the odd shotgun-toting bandits who had disrupted Kate Bingham’s wedding and the biker who had snatched Jordan Grazer from the church steps a week later.
With a wry smile, Garrett realized there’d been a real run on weddings that were better off for not having taken place. His included.
He pulled into the lot at the back of the hospital and parked. Inside he checked at the information desk, then made his way to Coach Riddler’s room. He paused momentarily at the door, preparing himself to see his old mentor.
Coach looked up as Garrett entered the room and grinned. Assorted floral bouquets were squeezed together on the bed table and more were crowded on a wall shelf, filling the room with the scent of an overgrown garden.
“I hope you didn’t bring any more flowers,” the coach said. “This place is beginning to look like a funeral parlor.”
“Guess I forgot.” He clasped Riddler’s hand, the older man’s grip strong and firm, and Garrett felt a great surge of relief. Though the coach appeared to have aged years in the week since Garrett last saw him and looked like he’d spent too much time in a pool hall, he wasn’t about to give up the ship anytime soon.
“Heard you got an offer from Orlando.”
“News travels fast.” Garrett pulled up the chair and sat down next to the bed.
“In Grazer’s Comers? Can’t spit without somebody hearing the news before it hits the sidewalk.”
Garrett agreed with that assessment, particularly if Agatha Flintstone got hold of the news. “I would have been here sooner except I had to fly to Orlando.”
“And?” Riddler persisted.
“We’re still negotiating.” And Garrett was still trying to make up his mind about his future..
Riddler passed his palm over the top of his head, smoothing his thinning hair, and frowned. “I must be worse off than I thought if they sent you around to cheer me up. You look like you just threw an interception that cost you a Super Bowl ring. What’s wrong, son?”
Resting his elbows on his thighs, Garrett laced his fingers together, studying his thumbnail.
“Woman trouble?” Coach guessed.
“Yeah, you could say that.” In the past, Coach Riddler had been there to listen to Garrett’s dreams and ambitions, and bolster him during those dark moments of doubt. Garrett realized the reason he’d come today to visit Riddler was as much a cry for the man’s help and wisdom as a gesture of friendship.
So Garrett told Riddler about Charity, and how he’d just discovered he had a son. Pacing the room, watching the sun dip lower in the afternoon sky, he related his bizarre kidnapping and his father’s betrayal. He left out some of the intimate details about his relationship with Charity, but Coach got the picture.
“I know Charity Arden from the photos she takes for the school annual,” Coach said when Garrett finished his story. “Fine young woman.”
“Better than that. She’s a survivor, as determined as any person I’ve ever met. Hell of a good mother, too.” And so hot in bed, Garrett trembled whenever he thought of them together.
“Are you in love with her?”
Jamming his hands in his pockets, Garrett looked out the window. The monitor attached to Riddler’s chest beeped with reassuring regularity.
“Three weeks ago, I was going to marry another woman. Now I can hardly remember her name, much less conjure up a very clear image of her. How the hell can I trust my feelings about Charity?”
“Your feelings are damn obvious to me. You’re tied in knots and you can’t seem to think straight. I’d say you love the girl.”
Garrett glanced back over his shoulder to his coach. “She’s real attached to Grazer’s Comers. I doubt she’d be thrilled at the prospect of moving to Orlando and I’m not so sure I am, either. But I’ll be damned if I’ll stay here and work at the candy factory.”
“You could coach football at Grazer High,” Riddler said quietly.
Garrett did a mental double take. “You’ve been Grazer’s coach for as long as I can remember. Once you’re out of the hospital—”
“I figure this heart attack could be the best thing that ever happened to me. The missus and I are gonna get ourselves an RV and see some of the places we’ve talked about all these years. It’s time for us to smell the roses.” He gestured toward all the flowers in the room. “This is about as close as I’d like to come to a funeral parlor for a lot of years.”
“I don’t know, Coach. I’d never thought about—”
“I’m going to retire, son. I’d like nothing better than to turn over the reins to someone like you, who I know would do a good job, not only by winning games for the school, but by teaching boys to be men, too.”
That was a compliment hard to refuse and a responsibility that would weigh heavily on a man. “I don’t have a teaching credential.”
“You’ve got a degree plus enough credits in history to teach that subject along with coaching football. The kids all idolize you, and I’d say you have an in with the school board, your dad being a member and all. An emergency credential is easy enough to get, assuming you’re interested.”
Was he interested? Or should he make one last try for the golden NFL ring?
When he’d worked out with the team in Orlando, he’d felt old and rusty. One hard shot to his knee, and his career was likely to come to an abrupt end. Then he wouldn’t even be able to help Charity around the pig farm.
That thought brought him up short. He’d been thinking of them—he and Charity and their son—as a family. A farm family where there was love and laughter in the house, and a terrific woman in his bed. Making new babies. Lots of them.
Using the bed railing for leverage, Riddler shifted to his side. “Sometimes a man has to trust his gut instincts to know what’s right. Your instincts have always been pretty good, son. I’d go with them if I were you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Charity rummaged through a box of her old school papers and decided to chuck the whole thing in the plastic trash bag, one of several she’d already filled.
Since Garrett had left, she’d been in a frenzy of activity, cleaning the attic, making plans for the future.
A future without Garrett
Stifling a sob, she lifted the flap on another cardboard box, peering through a sheen of unshed tears at Donnie’s stored baby things. She picked up a crocheted crib blanket and hugged the softness to her, closing her eyes as the sweet memories poured over her. A single tear spilled, trickling down her cheek.
When she opened her eyes, a man was standing in the shadows at the top of the stairs to the attic.
Startled, she shrieked.
“Easy, Charity,” Garrett said. “It’s only me.”
Her hammering heart slowed to its normal pace. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“More to the point, what the heck are you up to? This place looks like a cyclone hit it.”
“If you must know, I’m doing a little housecleaning.” Once and for all, she was going to put the past behind her.
He crossed the room, stopping in front of her. Idly he fingered the blue blanket she was using as a shield in front of her.
“Donnie’s
?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Where is everybody? I gave a shout downstairs but nobody answered. If the attic stairs hadn’t been pulled down, I never would have found you.”
“Hailey and Bud volunteered to take Donnie for ice cream.” Charity had been grateful for the reprieve. She hadn’t yet found the courage to tell Donnie that Garrett was his father—and in the next breath tell him that Garrett was leaving.
“Have you told him about me?”
“I thought you were going to call first, before you came over.”
“I’m not here to talk to the boy. I’ve come for you.”
“For me?” she echoed.
Gently he took the blanket from her and tossed it into the box. “I’m here to kidnap you.”
“Garrett, you can’t—”
He silenced her by taking her hand and leading her to the stairway. “It’s a recent custom here in Grazer’s Corners, I understand. Sort of a throwback to caveman days, I suppose. Or maybe it’s the influence of all those Norman conquerors that Agatha Flintstone finds so fascinating.”
Awareness skittered through her, and she tamped down the image of being slung over Garrett’s shoulder and hauled off to his secret lair.
“I can’t go anywhere with you,” she protested as they walked down the stairs. “My hair’s a mess, and my clothes are filthy from all the dust in the attic.”
At the bottom of the steps, he stopped. His gaze swept over her, slowly, seductively and with great precision. His lips tilted into a wicked grin. “You forgot to mention the smudge on your cheek.”
“Garrett, what’s going on?”
He palmed her face, and with his thumb he wiped at the streak of dirt he’d found. “Come with me, cinnamon girl. Where I want to take you it won’t matter what you’re wearing.”
From the glint in his eyes, she suspected he didn’t want her wearing anything at all. That both scared and excited her. Every muscle in her body clenched in anticipation; every fiber sent welcoming vibrations for whatever he had in mind. Her brain, however, wanted to put on the brakes.
He looked around, picked up a notepad from the counter, jotted down a few words with a pencil, then tossed it on the kitchen table.
“What are you doing?” she asked cautiously.
“We might be a while. I don’t want anybody to worry about you.”
Be a while? Her eyes widened, and she swallowed hard.
“Look, Garrett, I don’t think we ought to start anything at this late date. You’ll be leaving for Orlando soon, and I—”
An instant later, she squealed like a stuck pig as he hefted her over his shoulder. She could scarcely be called petite, yet he carried her easily—right out the front door.
“Garrett...” she warned.
“Will you stop arguing, woman. I’m trying to do something romantic here.”
“You call carting me around like a feed sack romantic?”
“I’m a real sentimental kind of guy. This will be something you’ll be able to tell our grandchildren.”
He put her in his sports car. Mute with shock, she sat very still as he snapped her seat belt in place. Our grandchildren? Donnie’s children? Or was he talking about something more than that?
She was silent, and more than a little curious, as he drove them up into the foothills, taking the winding road with the speed and ease with which he did everything. Afternoon clouds had built over the distant peaks, and the setting sun streaked them with silver. The warm air blowing in the car windows caught her hair, teasing the loose strands across her cheek.
She was very nearly afraid to breathe. Certainly she couldn’t manage a coherent thought.
He pulled into the entrance of the lake picnic area, but instead of parking he followed a narrow service road that traced the curve of the lake and led well away from where the crowds gathered.
Her heart stumbled.
She knew exactly where he was taking her. That secluded spot where they had first made love. When he came to a stop at an iron barrier across the road, she was still paralyzed with emotions churning in a combination of hope and fear and wanting all at once.
“End of the line,” he announced, hopping out of the car. “Out you go.”
Numbly she followed instructions. She found him at the car’s trunk, where he pulled out a wicker picnic basket and handed her a blanket.
“Would you please tell me what’s going on?” she pleaded.
Giving her a cocky grin, he hooked his free arm around her waist. “Do you remember this place?”
“Of course I do.” How could any woman forget the place where she’d given her heart—and her virginity—to a man like Garrett?
“I haven’t been back here since that night,” he said. “Without you, I figured it wouldn’t be the same.”
In the tiny sheltered cove, twilight had already settled across the sandy beach and filtered through the trees that hid the area from prying eyes. He set the picnic basket down, took the blanket from her and spread it on the ground. He sat and tugged her down beside him. A moment later, he’d produced candles, two wineglasses and a bottle of champagne. He popped the cork.
“Pretty romantic for a jock, huh?” He filled both glasses and passed one to her.
“Yes. But why all the trouble?” He probably could have seduced her right in the attic if he’d made the effort. She simply had no resistance to the man.
He touched his glass to hers. “To us, Charity. That’s what this is all about.”
She sipped warily. Her heart was a fragile organ. She wasn’t sure how many times it could be broken and still be repaired.
He sat with one arm resting on his upraised knee. “Eight years ago, I should have trusted my instincts, Charity. I knew you were someone special. Someone, that if I had an ounce of sense in my head, I’d want to be with for the rest of my life. But I was young and stupid, and when you didn’t return my phone calls it never occurred to me that I ought to get off my high horse and find out what was wrong. So, like Bud...” Looking sheepish, he shrugged. “I let it slide. It was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And it cost you so damn much.”
“You don’t have to blame yourself. Maybe if I hadn’t been so unsure of myself, and so afraid I couldn’t compete with all those cute cheerleader types that flocked around you, I would have made a bigger effort to locate you. And not taken your father up on his offer.”
“Like you said, all that’s in the past now.” He took another sip of champagne. “I know I don’t have much to recommend me as husband material....”
She drew a quick breath, her heart tumbling in a somersault, and her glass nearly slipped from her fingers.
“I’ve already botched one marriage, and I didn’t even get as far as the altar. But I swear, if you’ll marry me, I’ll move heaven and earth to make you happy.”
She waited for more, the words she had longed to hear and thought she never would.
“Do you love me, Garrett?” Or was she simply a consolation prize as she’d feared all these years?
“God, Charity. How can you ask? My gut’s in a knot so tight, it’s like I’m being strangled. If you don’t say yes, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Then say the words, Garrett. I want to hear you say you love me as much as I love you.”
He took her face in his hands, and she felt his fingers tremble like the leaves on an aspen tree. In the candlelight, she saw his struggle, his need and his love.
“I have never felt like this in my life. I love you, Charity Arden, more than I’ll ever be able to say. But I’ll show you every day if you’ll let me. Please say that you’ll marry me.”
“Oh, yes, Garrett.” Her heart soaring, she kissed him. “I love you so much. We’ll move to Orlando right away and we’ll—”
“Whoa! Wait a minute. What do you mean we’ll move to Orlando?”
“You don’t think I’d leave you in the clutches of all those beautiful groupies, do you? Besides, I’ve already decided t
o sell the farm. It’s too much for me to handle alone, and Bud and Hailey want to move out. Now that we’ve got some equity in the place, I thought—”
“What about Rambo?”
She blinked. “Rambo?”
“You can’t desert him. He’s Donnie’s pet. It would break the kid’s heart.”
“He’ll adjust,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t be easy for either of them to think of Rambo turned into pork chops.
“I’ve got a better idea.” He stretched out on the blanket, pulling her with him. “How would it sound to you being the wife of a novice pig farmer and the new Grazer High football coach?”
“Coach Riddler’s quitting?”
“Retiring. He’s asked me to step into his shoes. I thought I’d give it a try.”
“But Orlando... Your career—”
“I’ve made a choice, sweetheart. Even if I could be sure I’d end up with a Super Bowl ring—and nobody could guarantee that—I would rather stay here with you and Donnie. I’ve had my shot in the NFL. Now I want something more. The family I’ve been missing.”
“Oh, Garrett...” she sighed, overwhelmed by the intensity of his love.
Cupping the back of her head, he brought her mouth to his. He kissed her with exquisite tenderness, nibbling on her lower lip, tasting her with his tongue. Though she could feel his tension, he took his time, arousing her with slow, measured strokes. It didn’t matter where they lived. Only that he loved her and they were together. A family.
In the darkness, with only the faint glow of two candles, he undressed her. He loved her as though it were their first time together. And she loved him in return as though they had been partners forever, anticipating his needs, thrilling at his desire for her, giving every bit of herself and accepting all that he offered.
WHEN THEY RETURNED to the house, only a single light burned in the living room.
They slipped down the hallway to Donnie’s room.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said. She stroked his curly hair, inhaling his little-boy scent, and wondering if all their children would look like Donnie, or if she’d also be blessed by a child who resembled his father. “Can you wake up a minute?”
The Hog-Tied Groom (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #3) Page 19
