“You don’t realize how lucky you are to have a slice of heaven here.” A buzzing sounded in her left ear, getting louder. “Do you hear that?” She dropped her feet to the porch and sat up.
“What?”
“Buzzing.” Feeling movement in her hair, she jumped up, then squealed. “A bug. It flew in my hair.” She threaded her fingers through the mass, trying to knock out the intruder.
Ruger stood. “Hold still. Let me look.” He couldn’t see anything because she had her fingers digging through the strands. “Wait. I think I can see it. You have to trust me and remove your fingers.”
~~~~~
Ruger found her excitement over a bug in her hair humorous.
She dropped her hands but not at her sides. Surprisingly, she laid her palms against his chest and clenched the fabric of his shirt in her fists. “I don’t hate bugs, but I don’t want one on me. What is it? Can you tell? Can you get it?”
Biting back a round of laughter, he lifted her hair, carefully searching through the soft mass, realizing he wasn’t looking for a bug as much as he was enjoying how her hair felt and her wonderful scent. He finally caught the bug. “It’s a moth. I think the poor thing is about as scared as you are.” He held it up for her to see then he gently let it go.
“I doubt it.” She shivered. “That tiny thing caused that much ruckus? I thought I had a bat in my hair.”
“Moths won’t hurt you,” he said.
“You must think I’m foolish.” She looked up at him through the veil of her thick lashes and the tip of her tongue swept across her bottom lip as if in invitation.
“No, I don’t think you’re foolish. I think you’re a city girl, but you’re coming around. I see the changes.”
“You say that with a lot of pleasure.” She smiled, keeping her hands on his chest.
“Trust me, I get a lot of pleasure being near you.” He shifted and a pain shot through his side. The cut was healing but slowly.
“Are you okay? I noticed you squinted in pain earlier too.”
There wasn’t much he disliked more than talking about himself. “Just a scratch.”
“Can I see?” Without an invitation, she lifted his shirt. “That’s an awfully large bandage for a scratch.”
“I did it while searching for the boy. I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing.”
“How about I look? I’m not a doctor or nurse, but I have some amazing salve I can put on it. I grabbed it while I was in town to take care of the blisters on my hands. Take your shirt off and I’ll go get it.”
He opened his mouth to reject her offer, but he was too late. She was already through the screen door. Maybe he should have someone look at the cut. It was in a spot he couldn’t see very well in the mirror.
Lifting off his shirt, he hung it over the rail and sat down on the step of the new porch he’d finished building a few days ago. A sense of pride washed over him. He liked seeing results.
Grace came back like a breath of fresh air, the hem of the dress swished around her delicate ankles. She looked beautiful in anything, but the way the fabric caressed her curves made him hungry and not for food.
She brought with her a clear container, a handful of cotton balls and a box of bandages pressed between her arm and chest. For not being in the medical field she certainly seemed prepared to handle wounds of any kind.
Taking a seat next to him on the step, he got an intoxicating scent of apple pie and sweet vanilla from her. Why did he agree to this? Well he hadn’t.
“Don’t move,” she said a second before he felt the old bandage ripped off his skin.
“Ouch!” He jumped slightly.
“That’s more than a cut I’m afraid. Did you see a doctor?”
“Nope.”
“You should have.”
“Nope.”
“You don’t like doctors?” She laughed.
“I saw enough of them when my father was sick.” He felt her gentle fingers probing his side. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He felt a twinge behind his zipper and gritted his teeth.
“Then let me come to the rescue.”
He liked her new energy. In fact, over the last few days he’d found himself sneaking peeks at her while she wasn’t looking. Not in a stalkerish way, but an astonished way. He wasn’t joking when he said she was turning into a country girl. “What do you see?”
“This.” She did something that hurt but then he felt instant relief. She lifted her hand to show him something. “See that?”
On the tip of her finger he saw a shard of blood covered glass. “Well, hell.”
“Now it should heal. How did you not realize you had that in your skin?” She soaked a cotton ball with antiseptic.
“It only hurt when I moved a certain way.”
“Such a man comment.” She pressed the cold cotton against his warm skin and he resisted the urge to jerk. He didn’t want her to see any weakness in him.
What hurt worse was when she blew on the wound. It hurt all the way into his balls and never hurt so good. Clenching, he laid his hands on his knees and demanded his body relax.
“Almost done.” She applied a bandage. “There you are. You are such a good patient,” she teased.
They stood at the same time, bumped into each other and he caught her as she stumbled. As if a lock broke and took control of his actions, he cupped her cheeks with his palms and met her sweet gaze. “I think you’re cute.”
“Cute? I haven’t been told that since I wore pigtails.” The corners of her mouth lifted.
“Beautiful.”
“Uh-oh. You’re crossing some lines here, Ruger.”
“What the hell.” He covered her smile when he lowered his mouth to hers, tasting sweet cinnamon apples and pure woman. He felt her stiffen, but an instant later she softened against him and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her slender body close as he deepened the contact. He slipped his tongue inside and she opened under him like a blooming flower. Her hands came up around his neck and her fingers tangled into the ends of his hair, gently tugging. A small, submissive sound escaped her, and it found its invisible way inside his bloodstream, sparking uncontrollable need. His body hardened and he was lost under her mesmerizing spell.
And if she hadn’t stepped out of his arms, things could have easily went from zero to sixty, breaking all laws that he’d placed on himself.
She looked up at him, her lips swollen and pink from his exploring kiss. “I’m getting tired. I should be washing up the rest of the dishes and heading to bed. These early mornings leave me wiped out in the evenings.”
“Grace…”
“Yes?”
There was a lot he wanted to say. How he was grateful she came to Wilder Ranch. How he enjoyed being close to her. How she’d managed to find a way beyond all his pain. Yet he couldn’t get the words out. “Okay.” He took a wide step back and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll head over to the guest house and see you in the morning.” He dipped his hat, grabbed his shirt and marched away.
What had he been thinking? One minute he was telling her there were lines he couldn’t cross and the next he was doing crazy things like kissing her and wanting to keep her in his arms forever.
Those were his thoughts as he marched across the yard to the house wanting to kick himself in the ass for all these feelings rushing inside him. So much for following his gut instinct and keeping the line solidly drawn between business and pleasure. He’d been so wrapped up in her he’d lost himself for a minute.
Why was losing himself so terrible? It didn’t feel terrible.
Rubbing the creases from his forehead, he stomped inside the guest house, and made his way into the bathroom where he stripped off his clothes. A cold shower should ease the tension, but he didn’t want to get the bandage wet, or wash away her touch that still lingered on his skin. He looked at himself in the mirror above the bathroom sink and chuckled. “You’re pathetic, you bastard. You’re losing yourself and your mind.�
�
Splashing his face and neck with cold water, he grabbed a towel and dried off.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind he’d known that one day someone would come along with a hammer and start to chisel away at the invisible wall he’d built as protection. He hadn’t planned to have feelings for Grace. In fact, he’d tried to resist her, even staying away from her hoping any desire would fade, but the emotions and desire only became stronger, drilling into him.
So then why didn’t he take a risk? He could get hurt, sure, but he could also live damn good. Grace’s hands on him, her kisses, her attention gave him a glimpse into a new life. Imagining holding her every night brought him a smile.
Grace was beautiful. Smart. Inventive. Kind. She even tolerated his ranch hands. Hell, they were good guys, but Bren would have snubbed her nose at them. There were a hundred and one things he respected and admired about Grace, but damn, did he really know her? She was hiding something. Or maybe she didn’t like talking about the past. He knew and understood.
Ruger needed to come right out and ask for the truth. Why didn’t he?
If he asked her, she could run away, and he’d have no clue how to find her. He wasn’t ready for her to leave. Not yet.
He strolled into the next room and automatically glanced across the shadows of the yard to the dark main house. No lights were on. Was she sleeping?
Why do this to himself?
Clicking off the light, he climbed into bed and stared at the shadows on the ceiling.
Who was he kidding? There wasn’t a chance for a future. She’d go back to New York. His life was in Cooper’s Hawk. Worlds apart.
Enough letting Grace, or whomever she was, get under his skin. He could build his wall thicker. Screw the screws tighter. She wouldn’t be able to get to his heart. She had her reasons for being here and he didn’t care to get involved. Once the job was done, and that’d be soon, she wouldn’t have reason to be there any longer.
Yup, that was the life he wanted.
Alone.
He rolled over, punched his pillow, and closed his eyes.
A man like him didn’t need a woman.
So then why did alone feel so bad?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
POUND! POUND! POUND!
Grace flittered her eyes open.
The sun was shining, and Ruger and his crew were already hard at work.
She laid there in the serenity of blankets for a while longer, her mind slipping into the kiss she and Ruger had shared last night. His touch had left her floating on a cloud.
The kiss…it had been nice. No, nice wasn’t the right word. It had been a match that sparked a dire need. His soft, warm lips explored hers, and she’d wanted to melt inside his arms and let nature take its course. But she’d pulled away.
Why?
She was a divorced woman who deserved happiness—or rather, a little bit of fun. Grace wasn’t skilled in the matters of a relationship, but she was a woman with needs and desires.
Honestly, and she had to be with herself, she wanted to sleep with Ruger.
Pushing back the blanket, she stepped into the bathroom, took a quick shower then dressed in a pair of shorts and tank top, her usual attire for working on the renovations. She loved the hard work. Loved seeing the dirty, bare walls turn into beautiful colors. She also enjoyed sitting at the farmhouse table last night and listening to the easy chit chat amongst the men, the unintentional brushes of Ruger’s thigh or a soft caress of his hand over her skin.
This place was nothing like her quiet condo back home. How would she ever go back?
She had to go back though. Didn’t she?
She needed to stay on track. Focus on the last few rooms that needed finished. She’d made a promise that he’d love the end result.
Stepping inside the kitchen, she took down the coffee and started the coffee maker while she placed bacon strips inside the cast iron skillet. While they cooked, she sat down at the table with her small notebook to make notes on what she still needed to do. She chewed on the end of the pen as she decided on the last decorations.
The kitchen would be the last room she’d do. She was certain it would be a space that took on the most change—the most surprise. The cabinets, although worn, were still in good condition. She planned to paint them pristine white and do some glass fronts to give it a more modern feel. The butter yellow paint she’d bought at the hardware store would brighten the room, and with the large windows that opened up onto the back porch she knew this would be the space that would have everyone wanting to have breakfast here and dinner on the covered back porch.
Opening the windows, she breathed in the fresh, morning air and smiled.
Smelling something burning, she jumped up, but it was too late. The bacon was burnt to a crisp.
Thank goodness the coffee was good. Taking her steaming cup outside she sat on the step, admiring the view.
From her perch, she could hear the men working in the closest barn, especially shy Harvard who only just found out his wife was pregnant. Grace smiled and listened at the energetic hounding and teasing amongst the men while sipping her coffee.
She wondered if Ruger was with them. She didn’t hear him.
The wind picked up, turning the leaves, promising an afternoon shower. She pulled the ends of her hair away from her cheeks. If she were home, she would schedule her usual hair appointment, but here, it didn’t seem as important to her. She’d even cut her nails down. Not to mention she hadn’t had a facial in weeks, and yet her skin had never looked healthier. The country air was an elixir. If only she could bottle it up and keep it.
Maybe Ruger had something to do with her new energy too. He certainly did make her feel things she’d never felt before.
The early morning fog was dispersing in the field and the dew on the grass was drying up. The sky, although some clouds were rolling in, looked beautiful. The daydream blue sky reminded her of Ruger’s eyes.
Plucking a blade of grass, Grace rolled it around her fingers as she stared at the garden.
The flowers were blooming. Daisy had planted a hearty mix. She’d also laid down a cobblestone walkway that winded around and through the garden. The cost had taken a hit to Grace’s purse because she’d gone above the budget allotted for the space, but it was worth every dime. She’d grown to love the house and she wanted to see its original glory come to life.
Everything here was almost pretty enough to help her forget the pain she carried in her heart.
Her shoulders slumped. Truthfully, the pain had faded some and now she was left with an overwhelming guilt. Some days she felt she didn’t deserve happiness, or laughter, or even have a pleasurable meal, not when her baby didn’t get the chance to live life. Not even one full day. Born too early, her lungs hadn’t developed, and her heart gave out. The doctors had done everything they could for sweet Caroline, but when they realized there was nothing more, they could do they handed the tiny, wrinkled baby to Grace and she held her, wrapped in a fluffy white blanket. She hadn’t made a noise but with each labored breath her chest rose and fell until finally she drifted.
They’d laid her to rest in a small grave, but Grace still hadn’t laid her grief to rest in her heart.
She’d given up hope that she’d find a man who could understand her pain—understand the grief she carried like a brick in her heart. She’d dedicated so much time to the boutique. When she couldn’t be at the shop, she went back to her lonely apartment and either read or watched a movie. Many nights she’d cried herself to sleep, hoping…for what? A family?
Her ex had moved on. He was happy.
Why couldn’t she? Why was it easier for him than her?
There were moments she wished she had someone to hold her, someone who had her back, or assured her things would be all right when the waves were strong. She wanted to have a child again.
An image of Ruger developed inside her head.
No, he couldn’t be that man who could mend her heart.
He didn’t have the patience she needed. He was still pining over his ex who didn’t deserve a second of his time.
What scared her…what truly weighed her down like cement arms and legs, what if she couldn’t give herself fully again? What if the guilt ruined her chances of ever loving or being loved again?
Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away.
She had to remain hopeful that she would find someone trustworthy, who could love her in return, with all her flaws and insecurities. Someone who could hold her when the flood of emotions of the past came rolling in like the sunset tide.
Taking her mug inside, she cleaned the kitchen, put away the dishes then found her way into the dining room with a can of paint. She opened the lid and held the can in one hand and stirred it with the other. She saw something move and craned her neck around the can. A few feet from her was an ugly snake. It was looking at her looking at it.
Responding from pure fear, she screamed at the top of her lungs, sending the snake slithering under the built-in corner hutch and, because she forgot what she was doing, she upset the paint can…
~~~~~
Ruger had pounded the last nail in the new fence when he heard a muffled scream from inside the house. Pausing with the hammer mid-air, he didn’t hear it again, but his gut warned him it could be something serious. He hadn’t seen Grace yet that morning.
He turned and ran for the porch, dropping his hammer on the way. Barreling inside, he stopped in the entryway and listened. “Grace?”
“In here,” came the quiet response.
He stepped into the dining room and found her. He blinked as if his eyes deceived him. She stood motionless in the center of the room with paint dripping from her head and onto her shoulders, down her legs and onto the drop cloth at her bare feet. An upturned paint can was a few feet away, giving him some clue why she was covered in the gray mess.
“What the hell happened?” Now that he could see that she hadn’t fallen down the stairs or off a ladder, some relief came to him. He cleared his throat and bit his bottom lip to contain the laughter rising in his chest. She looked outraged at the situation.
Cowboy Wilde (Cooper's Hawke Landing Book 2) Page 14
