Welcome Back to Apple Grove (22 page)

Pat rubbed the back of his fingers on her cheek. “Dream of me.”

Grace watched him getting into his truck and suddenly wished she were going with him, even if it was just for tonight—he’d be sleeping at the firehouse tomorrow night. “I will.”

The next two days had Grace wondering why she’d thought she missed living in a small town. Visitors started dropping by the shop, beginning with Honey B. and her boys, just checking up on her. The steady stream of concerned friends and neighbors kept up. Had someone scheduled their visits?

After spending time she didn’t have convincing Mrs. Winter she was fine, Miss Trudi stopped by to look in on her. She was slowly making progress where the filing was concerned, but her nerves were frazzled and she hadn’t slept well in two nights. The worry that something really awful had happened to make Patrick leave the family and city he loved—the possibility that it was horrific and job related—was very possible.

She felt as if she were marking time and working at projects to keep her occupied until she could get back to what was important—being with Patrick. The anticipation building inside of her as the hours ticked by was driving her quietly insane. By the time Thursday evening rolled around, Grace checked her phone for the fifth time…no word from him all day.

The last text from him had been on Wednesday when he went off shift, promising to see her today. Wondering if she was worried for no reason, she nearly called her brother-in-law to ask if he’d heard from Patrick. But she’d never been so impatient in her life and she wasn’t about to start now.

She was stocking shelves in the supply room when she heard a familiar deep voice call her name and suddenly the world made sense again. “In here!” She was halfway down the ladder when strong hands grabbed her hips and swept her off her feet and into his arms.

“God, I missed you.” Patrick’s lips were kissing the breath out of her, but she was too busy kissing him back to worry about a silly thing like breathing.

When they broke apart, they were both talking at once. Laughing, she brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I missed you too.”

He held her while he told her about the tanker fire out on the highway and the one behind one of the elementary schools. “Kids are getting bored earlier than normal this year.”

“Do you usually have problems with kids setting fires?”

“Not as many as we had when I was in New York.”

“More people,” she suggested as he set her on her feet.

“Maybe that was the reason.”

“So how long do we have? I need to finish putting these parts away before I close up for the day.”

“I’m not due back until Saturday night. Then I’m on for two night shifts in a row.”

When she didn’t respond right away, he rubbed her back and said, “Let me give you a hand with that and we can figure out what to do with our time until then.”

Working together, they finished emptying the PVC pipe and copper tubing that Meg had ordered for an upcoming plumbing job. “I’m working tomorrow,” she reminded him.

“I guess you can’t take the day off.”

The tone of his voice had her fighting not to laugh as she answered, “No. I promised my dad I’d be here.”

“What would you do if we were working in the same city?”

His question was a valid one, but she couldn’t believe he didn’t realize her answer would be the same. “I’d still have to go to work tomorrow.”

He sighed. “That’s the biggest challenge with my job,” he said. “The hours.”

She brushed her hands on her jeans. “And here I thought it was walking toward the fire instead of the other direction.”

He laughed as she’d meant him to.

“Give me a sec to lock up out back.”

Patrick was right behind her. “What have you been up to?”

While she filled him in on nosy neighbors dropping by Mulcahys, they locked up and walked back into the office. Powering down her computer, she let her gaze sweep the room one last time. She sighed when she saw the last stack of boxes. “I guess that’s all for tonight.”

“It looks amazing in here. You’ve done so much in just a few days. No wonder your father was glad to have you back for a little while.”

“You already know I’m addicted to color-coded spreadsheets.” She locked the front door to the shop.

“It’s a good thing you told me.” He put his arm around her neck. “I’d hate to have found that out a month from now.”

She laughed and he told her he was hungry.

“You’re always hungry.”

“Ma says it’s my two hollow legs.”

Grace giggled.

“All Garahan men have them. Ma’s been telling us that since we were kids. We have the Garahan metabolism like our dad did—as soon as we eat, we’re burning it up.”

“I wish I had that problem,” she murmured.

Patrick heard her and was shaking his head at her as he opened the passenger door. “You are perfect.” He brushed his lips on the top of her head and helped her inside.

Grace’s heart acknowledged what her head was slow to recognize: he was the first man—aside from her father—to accept her for who and what she was—and she was head over heels in love with him. He didn’t seem to want to change anything about her.

How
refreshing! But for how long? And what about New York? When would he trust her with whatever was haunting him?

Trying to keep things light, she asked if he wanted to go to her house.

“Only long enough for you to grab a few things so you can spend the next two nights with me. We can grab something to eat on the road.”

“But I have to be at work tomorrow.”

He laughed. “Yeah. OK, how about this? You spend tonight at my place and I drive you to work and pick you up tomorrow so you can spend the night with me.”

“I can’t imagine what we’ll do with our time,” she teased as visions of a very naked Patrick flitted through her brain.

“We never did get to take a shower together,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about getting you naked—and keeping you that way until I have to drive you back home.”

Her tongue got stuck to the roof of her mouth as every ounce of spit dried up.

His chuckle told her that he knew exactly the effect his words would have on her. Finally, she was able to work up enough moisture in her mouth to loosen her tongue and speak. “I’ve never spent more time naked than how long it takes to shower and dry off.”

The way he clenched his jaw had her staring at his profile. His looks would stop traffic, he was that good-looking. When he didn’t speak, she prodded him. “You’ve seriously spent more time than that without your clothes on?”

“Hell yeah.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “And when would you have had the time?”

“My last real vacation.”

When he didn’t say anything else, she realized he probably hadn’t spent that time alone. Opting out of that particular discussion, she asked, “How long ago was that?”

“A couple of years ago.”

“Sounds serious.” Wishing she hadn’t started the conversation in that particular direction, she felt her insecurities building back up again. Inching away from him to stare out her window, she watched as they passed Bob’s Gas and Gears. They were near the turnoff for Cherry Valley Road. When he put on his signal, she said, “There’s a shortcut if you drive just a little further and turn onto Goose Pond Road.”

“Weren’t we there the other night?”

“Yes, when we interrupted my dad and Mary.”

“I like her,” Patrick said.

“I do too, but I think both of them might be happier if they got married and stopped going back and forth between their houses. I’m getting tired just watching them.”

There was a long pause, leaving her to wonder what he was thinking.

“You don’t have to come back with me to Newark.”

She scooted back close to his side. “Of course I do. What makes you think I don’t want to?”

“Well, you just said you were tired of the back and forth.”

“I distinctly remember mentioning my dad and Mary when I said that.”

“But maybe you meant us as well,” he added.

Fighting to control her temper, and nearly failing, she snipped, “Don’t put words in my mouth, Patrick.”

He slanted a look in her direction before saying, “Yes, ma’am.” Waiting a beat he asked, “I guess I’ll have to be careful.”

“About what?”

“Trying to figure out what you mean when you’re saying something.”

“I thought what I said was pretty straightforward.”

“You didn’t grow up in our house.” He chuckled. “My ma would say one thing when she really meant something entirely different.”

Grace forgot all about being annoyed and sympathized. “That must have been rough.”

Patrick shrugged. “You get used to it.” They pulled in the driveway and he put it in park. “I don’t get home often enough to suit my mother and sisters.”

“What about your brothers?” she asked, getting out.

“We’re usually arguing or pushing each other around whenever we get together.”

“Sounds lovely.”
Not.

“Now you sound like my mother.”

They were laughing when they walked into the kitchen.

Joe and Mary looked up from where they sat at the table. “We were just talking about you,” Mary told them.

Joe got up and brushed a kiss on the top of Mary’s head. “You weren’t supposed to tell them that.”

Grace laughed. “I already figured you two would talk about us, but that’s OK, because we were just talking about the two of you.”

That had her father freezing in his tracks and turning around to face his daughter. “Really? What were you saying?”

She was smiling when she countered with, “What were you?”

They stared at one another for long minutes before her father shrugged and Mary changed the subject. “We’re going to have another Bake-Off for the Fourth of July celebration.”

Grace was definitely interested since she’d missed it last year. Hell or high water, she would be here this year. “What’s the main ingredient?”

“You’ll be home for the Fourth?” Her father seemed surprised.

Grace nodded. She’d have to tell him soon that she was thinking of leaving her job in Columbus.

Mary looked from father to daughter before answering, “Triple berry. Local and fresh!”

“What the heck is a triple berry?” Patrick wanted to know.

“Whatever berry is in season,” Grace said.

“Only you need to use three of them,” Mary added.

Patrick shook his head. “How do you know what will be in season? And won’t everyone just make pie?”

Grace took pity on him and explained, “Depending on how wet or dry it has been, there could be a bumper crop of strawberries—they really like it wet and warm. If it’s been warmer than normal, the wild raspberries might be ready in time. It is a bit early for currant berries, but then there are blueberries.”

“So basically, since it’s been warm and we’ve had rain, it could be any of the above?”

Grace and Mary were smiling at him as if he’d just solved a difficult puzzle.

“Exactly,” Mary said. “The true test is to see how creative our bakers will be with what is native around Apple Grove,” she told him. “Coming up with new or recycling family recipes, adding a new twist to them is just part of the fun.”

“I don’t remember having berries in anything but pie,” he said.

Joe smiled as he told Patrick, “The Fourth is serious business around here. We have a parade and then the judging for the Bake-Off, and we end the evening with fireworks over behind the football field at the high school.” He waited a moment before asking Patrick, “Think you can make it?”

Patrick looked at Grace first. “I’m not sure. That’s three weeks away and as of right now, I’m off-shift that day, but things could change if someone gets hurt on the job or an emergency happens.”

“You’ll definitely be back for the celebration?” Grace’s father asked her. “You won’t change your mind?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “And I’m going to be baking something to enter in the Bake-Off.”

“Against Peggy?” Mary wanted to know.

Grace frowned. “Why not?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s won for the last three years in a row?” her father asked.

“Yes,” Grace hissed. “Just because she’s been winning, doesn’t mean she will continue to do so.”

When she looked at Patrick, he spoke up. “True. You could come up with something truly amazing—and to prove that I have faith in you, I’ll volunteer to be your official taste tester.”

They were laughing as Grace swept past them. “I need to get a few things together,” she said. “Why don’t you and Pop write down a few ideas for me, and I’ll see if I can whip up a recipe for the contest?”

***

“Is she serious?” Patrick asked, watching her leave.

“As a heart attack,” her father said. “I’m a big fan of blueberry pandowdy, how about you?”

Patrick was watching him as if he expected Joe to laugh. When he didn’t, he said, “I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s got blueberries on the bottom and cake on top. My mom used to bake it when blueberries were in season.”