Jesse's Hideout (Bluegrass Spirits 1)

by Kallypso Masters

  Amelia sighed and let him lead her to the staircase. Would she be able to find a way to convince Gregory to be up front with Tillie?

  “Why couldn’t they simply cooperate with what we’re trying to do for them?”

  At the top of the stairs, they veered to the hallway on the right. “Free will, plain and simple. Sure got me into a heap of trouble more than a few times.”

  Jesse’s words did nothing to lift her spirits. Her hope was waning.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Cram as much in as you can, and I’ll lace it up.”

  Greg had never had his hand up the ass of a turkey before in his life, but didn’t realize stuffing a turkey was such a strenuous activity. Tillie insisted that all twenty pounds of this bird would be devoured by Sunday, and her guests would be clamoring for more stuffing than she could provide if he didn’t fill every crevice. He didn’t want to let Tillie or her guests down, so he shoved in another handful.

  Could Tillie possibly find anything else for him to do this week that would keep them from having any quality time together? He’d hoped having the house to themselves for the past week would have given them lots of moments alone, but she’d kept him so busy, except for dinners and drives, they’d had little time to breathe.

  On this Thanksgiving morning, he’d hoped to at least cuddle up and watch one of her sappy classic Christmas movies, but instead, she had him preparing a feast. While the two of them would enjoy their dinner alone later, he couldn’t help but think this was more for her paying guests.

  Since last week, she’d asked him to assemble and decorate a tree in every room in the house, even small ones in the bathrooms. He and Beckie had then seen to the needs of the elderly couple staying here last weekend because Tillie wasn’t quite able to navigate the stairs well on her crutches yet. She’d become a pro at tooling around the lower floor, though, and practically lived in the kitchen, her favorite place to be anyway. Last night, after her guests had gone to their rooms, she worked on quick breads for their breakfast, something she called pumpkin-chess pie, and a large bowl of fresh cranberry relish.

  Was she intentionally avoiding any chance of their coming to know each other better before he went home? Maybe he’d misread her interest in him. Or had she been dissatisfied with his reason for lying about his relationship to Gram? Most of their kisses and electrifying touches had taken place before her accident. Hadn’t she indicated she wanted more when they’d had dinner at the Tavern?

  Wariness came into her eyes in unguarded moments. Tillie kept her emotions under a tight rein, but when she did let loose, he loved it. What was she afraid would happen if she expressed her feelings for him? Time was running out. He’d promised a visit with Derek after the Thanksgiving crowd left. Besides, she became stronger every day. She wouldn’t need him around much longer. Beckie could handle most of the housekeeping chores, although she’d been busy baking enough pies for an army this week and hadn’t been here but a few hours—only on the days Tillie had guests overnight.

  This morning, Beckie took care of breakfast for her guests and sent them off to their holiday meals with family while he tended to Tillie.

  Twenty minutes later, the last of the stuffing—consisting of bread crumbs combined with a mixture of celery, onion, fresh sage, herbs from Tillie’s garden, and sprinkles of water—had been depleted, and she ’d trussed up the bird.

  He lifted the hefty roasting pan and placed it inside the oven. “Could you have found a heavier bird?”

  Tillie laughed, a sound he’d grown to love hearing. “Well, yes, but then it wouldn’t have fit inside my pan.”

  Closing the oven door, he turned to where she sat at the table applying hand sanitizer. “What’s next?” he asked.

  “That’ll be roasting for hours. Let’s clean up and relax in the parlor by the tree a while. I’m exhausted.”

  You and me both. Scrubbing his hands at the sink, he worried that she might have overdone it. “What else can I do to lighten the workload this weekend?”

  “Oh, not a thing! You’re already practically running the place, except for Beckie’s meal prep. I never would have made it without the two of you.”

  That had to be a tough thing for her to admit. He leaned against the sink and smiled. “I’m proud of you, Tillie. It can’t be easy to go from running everything to having to delegate and have others do so much.” He could have sworn her eyes became brighter, uncertain why his words would affect her so. “I broke my collarbone a few months back, so I know that feeling of helplessness and of having others do what you used to be able to do easily yourself.”

  “You what? Why have you been lifting me so much?”

  Greg waved away her concern. “It’s fully healed. Besides, I like carrying you around.” He grinned as her cheeks grew flushed. Man, he loved watching her blush.

  “Doctor’s orders are for me to move under my own steam more now that I can put weight on my ankle.” Her appointment this week had lifted her spirits and selfishly lowered his. “I doubt it’s going to help me sleep better, though.”

  “Why not?” He doubted he could do anything in that regard, but adequate rest was important to her healing.

  “Every time I move, my ankle zings and awakens me.”

  “Ah. I remember those, too.” Why then was he thinking about a different kind of zing now? Probably because she had him picturing her in bed. Looking for a diversion, he glanced around the kitchen for something to munch on. They’d agreed to have dinner around six—just the two of them. He couldn’t wait, but wasn’t going to last that long without a bite. A half-dozen pies sat on the sideboard in the dining room, and more pumpkin pies waited in the fridge. He wanted something with a little less sugar.

  No, what I want is Tillie.

  Dream on. “Would you like me to fix a platter of veggies and dip to tide us over?” he asked.

  “Oh! Why didn’t I think of it myself? Some hostess I am.”

  “Because you have a lot on your mind.” He opened the fridge and removed several bags and containers. “Go into the parlor and make yourself comfortable while I get these ready. I’ll join you in ten minutes or so.”

  After setting everything on the island, he crossed the room and helped her onto her feet and handed her the crutches. She was perfectly capable of doing that herself, but touching her, being close to her, well, never got old. She kept him at an emotional distance, so he welcomed any chance he could to narrow the gap a little bit.

  “Thanks for your help.” She smiled up at him. “For this, the turkey, and everything else you’ve done.”

  “You’ve tapped into skill sets I’ve never explored before, Miss Tillie.” On the spur of the moment, he gave in to desire and leaned down to kiss her. Expecting her to come to her senses and retreat, she surprised him by closing her eyes and tilting her head back.

  Taking that as an invitation, he changed from delivering a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth to pressing his lips firmly against hers. When they parted, he delved inside. Warm, sweet.

  Before going too far, he retreated. “If you don’t want me to kiss you the way I want to, you might want to hobble into the parlor.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open. Finally, one of them would put an end to this. At least he thought so until he heard her crutches fall to the floor seconds before she wrapped her hand around his neck and closed the gap between them again.

  The time for restraint was over.

  Thank God.

  Greg wasn’t going to be here much longer and had no intention of doing anything to hurt her. So what if they both grabbed a little gusto while they could? All too soon, Greg forced himself to pull away again.

  Greg positioned himself beside her and scooped her into his arms.

  “My crutches! Put me down! Where are we going?”

  “Why, the parlor, of course.”

  “Oh.” Her breathy tone and perhaps a hint of disappointment in her voice conveyed the message she might be ready for something more, to
o. But she’d slept on a cot in the birthing room last night while he took that uncomfortable parlor couch. No matter how arcane, she’d insisted they not sleep in the same room. Would that change soon?

  Slow down. This woman deserved a leisurely wooing, not a rushed one. He chuckled to himself at the choice of such an archaic word. Gram’s house once again had cast its spell on him.

  They entered the parlor, and he set her gently on the brocade couch, adjusting the throw pillows behind her back. Moving the coffee table closer, he lifted her booted foot onto it. “Comfortable?”

  “My foot is.”

  He grinned. “Good enough. But I’ll warn you my intention is to make the rest of you quite uncomfortable momentarily.”

  Her nostrils flared, and her well-kissed lips lifted in a smile. He sat beside her and leaned forward. The pulse in her neck had tempted him unmercifully far too long.

  * * *

  Tillie’s heart pounded as his lips brushed the column of her neck where he focused on her pulse, only making it beat faster. She’d never made out with anyone in this house before and hoped Mrs. Foster wasn’t watching. A giggle bubbled up.

  Greg sat up to stare at her, taking her chin and tilting her face toward his. “I must not be doing this right.”

  “Oh no! You’re doing everything absolutely right. I just…” She waved her hand in the air. “Don’t mind me. Carry on.”

  He shook his head and commenced kissing her again, skimming the tip of his tongue between her lips until she parted them. His hand grabbed her hair and pulled backward until her mouth opened wider.

  Her stomach dropped, and parts of her that had long been dormant throbbed to life. She didn’t want him to stop. They were alone. No one would be interrupting them until late tonight. Emboldened, she unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and reached inside. An undershirt. Darn. She supposed he was used to dressing in layers at home, but having her progress impeded by more clothing made her groan.

  When his hand moved across her belly and inched upward, though, all thoughts of his undershirt evaporated. She grabbed his head and leaned back a little to give him better access without releasing his lips from hers. He cupped her breast robbing her of any remaining rational thought.

  This! I want this! With Greg.

  Her lungs tightened until she had to retreat, gasping for air. His breathing grew erratic as well, and they stared at one another a long moment. His pupils dilated, and she guessed it was from more than the low lighting in the room.

  To have that kind of effect on a man like Greg empowered her. “No need to stop on my account,” she said. “Breathing is overrated.”

  He chuckled and lowered his hand between her knees before moving it upward, igniting an inferno of passion. She regretted nothing about delaying love until this man returned to her life, even if she had no idea she’d been waiting since the day that lonely girl had gotten her first glimpse of him while walking on the railroad tracks. No, she hadn’t realized she’d been doing that until she found out who he was and remembered where she’d seen him.

  Now to catch up on what she’d been missing.

  Tugging his shirt from his pants and then the undershirt, she stripped both off of him and admired his chest a moment. He may not be muscle-bound like men on the covers of Romance novels, but what he had was well-toned as she discovered when she stroked his pec.

  “Equal time, milady?”

  “By all means.” Her voice sounded breathless to her ears.

  He opened her blouse and stared at her bra. She’d chosen one of the Victoria’s Secret ones that had been her little secret all these years, too. He was the first man who had ever seen one on her. She’d not been quite so extravagant in college.

  “Beautiful.” Somehow, she didn’t think he was talking about the expensive scrap of satin and lace. He made her feel beautiful, too. His fingers skimmed the tops of the lace and blazed a trail over one peak, his knuckles brushing over her nipple.

  Tillie gasped. Such torture! “Don’t stop.”

  He grinned and slipped his hand between the cloth and her skin to tweak the engorged nub, setting other parts of her body to tingling in direct response.

  Everything was so…connected.

  “I want you anticipating, begging, unable to hold anything back.”

  Wait. Am I ready for that?

  She pushed away, suddenly aware of how she’d thrown caution out the window. How easy it was to be caught up in a moment of passion in the hands of the right man. One minute she watched him stuff her bird, and the next she wanted to help him…

  What am I doing?

  “I’m sorry.” She sat up and tugged her blouse together, hurriedly filling buttonholes, whether the right ones or not.

  Greg sat up, too, and sighed as he put his dress shirt on again without the undershirt this time. His chest heaved as he tried to regain control of his own breathing.

  Then he chuckled. That was the last thing she’d expected. He wasn’t upset with her?

  “That moved a little faster than I’d intended, especially here in the parlor.” He grew serious as he stared into her eyes. “I don’t want us to have any regrets, and we still have some things to work out.”

  They did? Oh right. Her mind eased back to reality.

  “Let’s take this more slowly, Tillie, and make sure the timing is right. We could have the rest of our lives to make love, but if we jump in too soon and aren’t able to sustain the relationship, we’re both going to be sorry. I don’t want to lose you because I couldn’t exert a little self-control.”

  Why did he have to be so damned honorable about this? Well, she’d been the one to apply the brakes, hadn’t she? Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she thought about what he’d said.

  “How long will you need?” she asked.

  “Me? Oh, I’ll be ready whenever you know the time is right. Just say the word.”

  “What word?”

  “To be safe, something you wouldn’t say in normal conversation.”

  She bit the inside of her lip, mulling over what word to use, then smiled. “Two words, actually. Ravish me.” She giggled, but at least she’d regained control.

  He grinned sardonically. “Woman, you’re going to drive me insane.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “Then my plan is working.”

  He brushed a curl from her cheek and simply stared into her eyes several moments before speaking, once again robbing her of the ability to breathe. “I enjoy being with you like this, Tillie.”

  “And I, you.” Again, her voice seemed to be wispy. The man kept her off-guard.

  He shifted his gaze in the direction of the tree. “You don’t think there’s anything to that spell Gram put on that ornament, do you?”

  The abrupt change of subject caught her by surprise. Was he trying to analyze the unexplainable? Or backpedaling?

  She tucked her finger under his chin and turned his face toward hers again. “What do you think?”

  “I honestly don’t know. If it wasn’t that ornament, then this house—or you—has cast some kind of spell over me.”

  So he was on that bent again? She tried to pull away, but he tugged her back into his embrace. “Not a spell in a bad way, just definitely not what I expected when I came here.”

  “And what did you come here for?”

  His arms stiffened. “Haven’t we been through this already?”

  Perhaps it was the fact he’d lied to her long after he could have come forward and told her who he was that made her wonder if perhaps he was hiding something else. Was he?

  “I apologize again for not revealing my identity sooner. But I’m no longer the man who showed up on your doorstep a few weeks ago.”

  She giggled, relaxing. “Thank goodness.” She grew serious again. “I doubt you expected to like me at all, given your preconceptions.”

  “No, I didn’t. But you won me over.”

  “How?” It sounded as though she was fishing for compliments, but her curiosi
ty had been piqued.

  “By showing me how much you loved my grandmother and for the devotion you’ve given to preserving this house, for starters.”

  “Both were so easy to love.” Would Greg ever be someone she could love unconditionally, too? She tamped down thoughts about how little time they had together, and she scooted into a more upright position. Perhaps if they could become more comfortable speaking about things that mattered… “Let’s continue to get to know one another. Ask me anything.”

  He stared at her so long she didn’t think he was curious about a single thing.

  “What were Gram’s final days and weeks like?”

  Her eyes opened wider. What an odd thing to ask at a time like this.

  * * *

  Where the hell had that come from? “I guess I still harbor a lot of guilt over the way my family abandoned her.” The admission pained him, as well it should. “Mother told me she’d died. I swear I’d have come down here as soon as I had a driver’s license and gas money if I’d thought she was still alive.”

  Tillie stroked his arm. “Most of that wasn’t your fault, but your parents’.”

  He wondered how much Tillie knew about his dysfunctional family. “My mother tends to be hostile whenever there’s any mention of her mother or growing up here. I think she was ashamed of where she came from, although I can’t for the life of me understand why. This place is so charming. Some of my best childhood memories were made in this house.”

  “Stop beating yourself up, Greg.” Her eyes welled with tears. “I’m sure Mrs. Foster knows the truth now.”

  He hoped so. “Did she ever talk about us?”

  She focused on her hands. “Occasionally. You, not so much your mother.”

  What had she said?

  Before he had to dig for more details, she met his gaze again. “She loved you dearly. Even though she couldn’t be with you after that last visit when you were twelve, the memories of your times together were so precious to her during her final years. In the end, she understood that it wasn’t your fault you were kept apart. Grandparents have no legal rights. Sure, she regretted whatever had caused the falling out between her and Margaret, but she never blamed you for your absence. She lived a long, fulfilling life, and you were a part of many summers, as well as that last visit.”