Welcome Back to Apple Grove (10 page)

“Latin?”

Gorgeous and smart. “Yeah. It means ‘I will either conquer or perish.’ It’s our Purcell ancestors’ family motto. My great-grandfather liked to pass on battle stories and they always ended the same—no quarter, no prisoners. We take care of our own, so you just say the word, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “Remind me not to make you mad.”

He laughed and hugged her tight. “You suit me down to the bone, Grace Mulcahy.”

She laughed, a low and sensuous sound as she nibbled at his lips. He gave in and pressed his mouth to hers, tasting the honeyed sweetness of her kiss until he thought he’d spontaneously combust. The need to make love to Grace screamed through him, but he wouldn’t rush things—he would savor her a little bit at a time until they were both ready to make that leap. He craved her scent and another taste of her sweet lips and, for the first time in years, was afraid that he’d want her even if she didn’t pass the sticking test.

Braced against his chest, his arms holding her tight, he swung her around and around in a circle until they were both dizzy and laughing. He turned one last time and tumbled them to the ground, skimming his hands from her shoulders to her curvy backside over and over, memorizing each and every dip, until he would remember how good she felt while they were apart.

When she moaned, he lifted his head up to lock lips with her, shifting his handholds to her sides, where he tortured them both by sliding his hands up, dipping in at her waist and then slipping between them to cup her bodacious breasts.

“Your curves slay me, Grace.”

She reared back and stared at him. When he nodded to emphasize his words, she planted her elbows in his pecs and rested her head on her hands. After watching him like a hawk for a few minutes, her frown smoothed out and a look of puzzlement settled on her features. “You mean it,” she said, “don’t you?”

Sensing that his next words were crucial, he opted for a different way to get his point across. Sliding one hand to her backside, he pressed down until she was snugged up against him. The heat from her sweet center nearly burned him alive. Lifting his torso, with his free hand he cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to meet his.

He tasted the sweetness she had in abundance before tracing the fullness of her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. She moaned and he tangled his tongue with hers, coaxing her to take what she wanted, giving all that he could.

When they finally had to come up for air, she laughed softly. “Was that your answer?”

“Do you want me to tell you again?” he teased, knowing that there was no way he could kiss her like that again and not have it all. He ached from holding back when his body craved being buried to the hilt inside her.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m like this with every guy I meet.”

The urge to keep teasing her was strong, but the serious expression on her face and hint of sorrow in her eyes had him moving past the urge. “Same goes, gorgeous. I felt like I’d been poleaxed when I saw you standing there.”

“Really? My dad always said that’s how he felt the first time he saw mom.”

“I was unable to move, speak, or think when I saw you standing in the sunlight with your killer curves and soft, sweet smile.”
Jesus, did he just say that out loud?
She’s gonna think you’re full of it, Garahan.

Instead of the reaction he expected, she sighed and laid her head over his heart. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve always been a sucker for a man with broad shoulders.”

“Yeah?”

“Ummm…and broad workingman’s hands.”

He held her with one hand and lifted the other to look at it, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were closed, a look of bliss on her pretty face. “Really?”

“Really,” she whispered. “But the part that totally had my attention—”

“My über-athletic muscles?”

“No.”

“The Garahan auburn hair?”

“No.”

“My height?”

She giggled. “No.”

“I give up,” he finally told her. “What was it?”

“The way you played with Danny and Joey.”

Jeez, Ma
, he thought.
You
were
right!

“So—” he began, only to be interrupted by her scream of terror.

He shot to his feet with her in his arms. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

She was trembling in his arms. “Big, black, hairy,” she rasped, hiding her face against his chest.

Before she could say another word, he was running back toward the house.

“Aren’t you going to step on it?”

He jolted to a stop. “The bear?”

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What bear?”

“The one you saw…you know, big, black, and hairy?”

She scrunched up her nose and started to laugh—deep belly laughs that made it hard to hold on to her. He set her on her feet and planted his hands on his hips. “You didn’t see a bear.”

She shook her head.

“Or a wolf.”

“Wolves aren’t usually black,” she told him. “Besides, we have coyotes out here, not wolves.”

“So it wasn’t a coyote either.”

She threw her hands up in the air and whirled around, stomping through the field toward home. “It was a spider. OK? I hate spiders!”

She’d walked about fifty feet before he finally calmed down enough to follow after her. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, woman.”

Grace, being Grace, laughed over her shoulder at him.

“I mean it,” he said, reaching for her arm and pulling her to a stop. “Save the hysterics for serious stuff. You know, like muggers, really big wild animals—your father catching us making love in your hayloft.”

She giggled as he’d intended, making him smile. “Seriously, you scared the shit out of me. My heart gets a hard enough workout on the job. How would it look if I had a heart attack all because you screamed and I scooped you up in my arms and tried to outrun a bear for five miles?”

She slipped her arm through his and tugged to get him moving. “I’m sorry. Come on,” she urged. “If we don’t head back now, I’ll let you distract me again, and this time, I’ll pick a spot without spiders. I’ve always heard that firefighters have an amazing amount of stamina.”

He swallowed the spit pooling in his mouth rather than drool. He cleared his throat. “We do.”

She leaned close and whispered, “Actions speak louder than words.”

He wanted nothing more than to grab her and rip their clothes off, but he’d already made the decision not to rush things, and not just for her sake—for his sanity. Clenching his teeth, he ground out, “I’m trying to be considerate, not rushing you, but you’re making it impossible.”

She stared up at him with an adorable smile on her face. He wasn’t in this alone. “I think we both want the same thing.” He said the words slowly, giving her time to either agree or disagree.

She nodded. “But,” she said, “there’s more to life than the mattress mambo.”

Truer
words
, he thought. Patrick lifted her hands and brought them to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of her left hand and then the right one. “I’m looking for someone I can laugh with, cook for, play with, make love to, make babies with—I want it all, Grace. If that’s not what you’re interested in, then tell me now.”

Her eyes widened at his confession, and before he could blink, they were glistening with unshed tears. “What if you decide a few months from now that I’m not woman enough for you?”

He slid his hands to the curve of her hips and grabbed hold of her. “Not a chance.”

“What if you change your mind and want a brunette?”

“I’m not into games, Grace.”

Her smile transformed her face from pretty to beautiful.

“Do you think your dad is still watching out the window?”

Grace laughed. “Probably has his binocs out.”

Pat grinned. “Then let’s give him something to see.” He lifted her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and ran toward the house.

“So,” Dan drawled, “you always carry women around like a sack of potatoes?”

Pat was breathing hard but not winded, so he laughed. “Depends on the woman.”

“Put me down!” Grace demanded.

“What’s the magic word?”

“If you think you can haul me around and then treat me like a kid—”

“Mind your manners, Grace,” Joe said. “She’s been known to get grumpy without enough coffee,” Joe added. “The pot’s fresh and Meg stopped by the diner to pick up doughnuts.”

“Please, put me—”

Before she could finish, he switched handholds and had her cradled in his arms. Grace’s face was red from hanging upside down. Maybe he shouldn’t have run that far with the blood rushing to her head.

She patted him on the shoulder, her signal to put her down. He hesitated, and she said, “I’m used to hanging upside down. It’s how I relax.”

He set her on her feet and the guilt faded. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were sparkling with what his ma would say was deviltry. He shook his head. Not possible. Grace was an angel.

Joe chuckled. “When the three of them would watch TV, Meg would be sitting crossed-legged, Cait would be lying on her stomach with her elbows in front of her and her head propped up on her hands, and little Grace would be hanging off the sofa upside down. I gave up trying to get them to sit like ladies a long time ago.”

Patrick enjoyed being around the Mulcahys. As a family unit, they were tight, like his. He and Dan had become friends the moment the word
soccer
had been mentioned. The first time he’d met Jack Gannon, he’d liked him.

Grace handed him a plate filled with mouth-watering sweetness. Looking from the plate to her full lips, he couldn’t decide which he wanted to sample more. When someone cleared their throat, he realized he’d been staring at her without speaking. “Looks good enough to eat.”

Grace’s laughter tugged at his heart when she focused her dimpled smile on him. “You seemed to like the first taste you had.”

Oh man! She was killing him—and she knew it.

When Grace winked at him and spun around to pass the plate around, he knew he was going to enjoy every minute spent with her. Figuring out the rest of his week in his head, he realized free time was at a premium, but if he could convince her to stay over at his place a night or two, they’d have more time together. They were both adults, and as long as they were on the same page, at the same time, then maybe a little seduction would be just what the doctor ordered.

***

Grace wondered what Patrick was thinking. At first she could tell by the set of his jaw and desire in his eyes, but now, he was staring into his cup of coffee—thinking deeply, like Pop sometimes did when he was thinking of mom. Did he have something tragic in his past too? Given the nature of his job, it was a definite possibility.

The urge to find out what was on his mind niggled at the back of her brain. The need to help him heal was almost as much of a surprise as wanting to know what was troubling him. She’d been in two serious relationships—serious enough to be thinking about wedding dresses and white picket fences—but since life is full of surprises and both guys had disappeared after the “where do you think our relationship is headed” chat, Grace was hesitant to think about more than just the present.

Live in the moment. That’s what her best friend, Kate McCormack, always told her. Thoughts of Kate had her wondering about the latest blind date her friend had been on.

She’d have to call Kate and catch up—maybe she could stop off at the diner on her way home.

She noticed Patrick was watching her intently.

What’s on his mind now?
“Thanks.”

Before Grace could let her mind drift much further, Patrick was holding a chocolate-covered doughnut in front of her face. She could tell it was one of the cream-filled ones. “Come on, one bite won’t hurt.”

She was about to refuse, but then remembered his earlier comment about her curves.
What
the
hell.
She opened her mouth and the combination of chocolate and cream melted on her tongue. “Mmmm.” Their gazes locked and she was thinking about the last kiss they’d shared. He was delicious too. Live in the moment—she knew better than most that none of us knew how long each of us would be here.

“So, Grace,” Meg said slowly, “what are you cooking for dinner tomorrow?”

“Who said I was cooking tomorrow?”

“Pop said you had some time off and were spending a few days with us. Since you are, he figured you’d want to cook for us.”

Grace frowned at her sister first, her father second. “Did he?”

“Meg’s beyond busy with her job and her family,” Joe said. “And given Cait’s news—they’ll be here tomorrow too by the way—I’d think you’d be delighted to cook dinner for all of us.”

His pointed look said way more than words.

“OK, how many will be here?”

Dan grinned. “We’ll all be here.”

“That’s five of us,” Meg said, “but better just count four since baby Deidre won’t be eating grown-up food.”

Grace rolled her eyes and said, “I guess I’ll have to call Cait and ask if Jack has any house calls lined up for tomorrow after church.”

“Jack is used to eating nuked food. Why don’t we meet back here after church? I’m really glad you’re cooking, Grace.” Meg winked at her as the twins walked into the room.

“We’re coming again tomorrow?” Danny asked.

“Are you gonna be here, Unca Pat?” Joey asked.

“Yes,” Grace told Danny before turning toward Patrick to wait for his answer. When he merely cocked an eyebrow as if to say
Are
you
gonna
ask
me?
she laughed. “I think if we ask Patrick nicely, he might come for dinner.”

Danny yanked on the hem of her T-shirt at the same time Joey said, “Ask him, ask him!”

She was still laughing when she asked, “Would you like to come to Sunday dinner tomorrow?”

Patrick’s smile faded and a serious expression settled on his handsome features. “What are you having?”

Joe and Dan thought his question was hysterical and broke into guffaws of deep laughter. “I used to ask the same thing when Maureen and I were dating,” Joe said.

Grace smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Kate for some recipe ideas.”

Her friend picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Grace. How’s it going?”

“Great. I’m calling for two reasons—one, I just found out that I’m cooking for everyone tomorrow; and two, did you go out on another date with that guy you met through the online service?”

Kate hesitated before asking, “Would that hunky fireman be included in everyone?”

“Yeah.” Grace noticed her friend ignored the second part of her question. “So I need a menu suggestion for ten for tomorrow.”

“Hmmm, difficulty level?” Kate asked.

Grace sighed. “You have anything that’s semi-easy that gets rave reviews?”

Her friend paused. “What’s in the freezer?”

“Not sure. Can I call you back?”

“OK, I’ll have a couple of ideas ready for you.”

Grace walked back to the kitchen, shaking her head at her father and Patrick, who were still munching doughnuts and drinking coffee. “Did Meg and Dan leave with the boys?”

“Yes, and Dan reminded me about the game. I can’t remember if I told you—I got distracted.”

Their eyes met and she knew he was remembering their time together in the meadow. When he smiled, she knew he was remembering the spider.

“Great, now I’m cooking for a whole soccer team,” Grace grumbled, going to the freezer.

She opened the freezer. “I have to tell Kate what’s in here—wow.” Everything had been labeled and dated. “Must be Mary’s doing.”

Her father grunted—his way of agreeing sometimes.

Sorting through everything, she realized there were a bunch of smaller frozen options, but nothing that would feed ten—maybe as many as sixteen. She shook her head, hit redial, and told Kate, “I’ll have to go to the store. Not enough of any one thing in here to feed this crowd.”

“I thought that might be the case,” Kate said. “It’s usually just your dad and Mary on weekends.”

“Really?” Grace was surprised because she hadn’t seen Mary yet.

As if Kate could read Grace’s mind, she added, “Mary doesn’t close up Murphy’s Market until just before dinnertime on Saturdays.”

“Ah.” Grace should have figured that her father had some sort of life now that he had an empty house most of the time. That thought led to another one: Did he spend more time at home or at Mary’s? She’d have to ask one of her sisters.

“Meatballs and spaghetti would easily feed a crowd, especially if you make your meatballs a little smaller than my mom does.”

Grace considered the idea and realized it was the perfect solution. “Kids usually like spaghetti. I think the guys would like it too, but I just found out that they’re playing soccer tomorrow too, so I’ll need to feed more than I’d planned on.”

“I’d go with meatball sandwiches then,” Kate suggested. “If you make the meatballs a little smaller, you can stretch a single batch to feed ten. A double batch will easily feed twenty. Hey,” Kate asked, “what about dessert?”

Grace groaned. What had her father gotten her into? “Darn, I didn’t even think about feeding them dessert. Dinner’s going to be enough of a challenge feeding so many.”

Kate laughed. “Easy or hard?”

“Jeez, Kate, it’s not like it’s thirty years ago and I’m trying to snag a man with my cooking!”

That had them both chuckling. “Why not go super easy and pick up two boxes of brownie mix?”

“But that’s not homemade.” After she’d said it, Grace wondered if it mattered.

“You could always ask me nicely and I can save two pies for you.”

“Wow, I didn’t even think about asking you for a pie…you’re offering me two? What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing,” Kate said far too quickly for Grace’s peace of mind.

“Hmmm. I’m not sure what his favorite—”

“Whose, your dad’s or Patrick’s?”

“Smart-ass,” Grace said. “Since you know so much, what is Patrick’s favorite type of pie?”

“He’ll eat any kind of pie, but I think he’s partial to apple.”

“Would you please bake two for me and I’ll owe you?” When Kate agreed, Grace asked for a second time, “Now what happened last night?”

Her friend didn’t answer.

“Kate?” Grace urged.

“Nothing,” Kate insisted.

“Something happened last night, didn’t it?”

Kate’s sigh was just audible enough for Grace to catch. “If you don’t want me coming over there right now, you’d better fill me in.”

Kate sighed louder. “He just wasn’t quite what I expected.”

“Meaning?” Grace hoped her friend wasn’t hiding something important, like she had with her last loser boyfriend—the one who knocked Kate around when he started drinking.

Her friend’s refusal to talk about it convinced Grace something bad happened. “You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“If there was something really wrong? Maybe.”

“Define
really
,” Grace said.

“Drop it, or I won’t text you my mom’s meatball and sauce recipe.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Thanks,” Grace grumbled.

“Bite me,” Kate said, making Grace smile.

“I love you even when you’re crabby, Katie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” her friend said. “Same goes.”

Grace disconnected and walked outside.

“Everything OK?” Patrick’s deeply rumbled question eased the stiff set of her shoulders.

She was worried about Kate. She hadn’t been in town the last time Kate had ended up in a bad situation with the wrong man. But how much should she tell the man who’d just entered her life?

“We’ll be having meatball sub sandwiches tomorrow—just in case we need to feed a couple of hungry firefighters.”

He nodded but hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. “Something has you worried.”

How
could
he
tell?
“What makes you say that?”

“It’s there in your eyes.” He reached out a hand toward her; she waited a beat before taking it.

“Sometimes it’s better to get stuff that’s worrying you off your chest.”

“And then again,” Grace said, “some things are better kept to yourself.”

“I know everything is happening at warp speed between us, but I’m a good listener and ace problem solver, being second oldest in the New York Garahan clan.”

She shrugged.
What
could
she
say?
Where
did
she
start
so
he
wouldn’t think she was worrying unnecessarily just because she had a bad feeling?