Welcome Back to Apple Grove (9 page)

In Columbus, Grace slipped back into her weekly routine, rising early and working late. She loved her job and enjoyed the daily challenges. But there were moments during the day when she’d find her mind drifting back to Apple Grove and the man who’d jump-started her heart after it had been fine the way it was: tucked away—safe.

She’d replayed the kisses they’d shared every night in her sleep, but it was the way he’d acted with her nephews and fit into her family as if he belonged that had her looking forward to his calls.

By Friday night, they’d had a few short conversations, but his job kept interrupting—something she’d have to consider carefully if she was going to go forward as Patrick indicated he hoped to.

When her phone rang, she picked it up and smiled. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Nothing a man likes to hear more. How was your day?”

He sounded tired. Was it his job? “Busy,” she said. “But I’ve caught up by working late every night this week. There were two projects I’ve been working on. Apparently I’m the spreadsheet queen in my office.”

“Everyone has gift in life, Grace.”

They both laughed and then he fell silent.

When she was about to ask him what was the matter, he spoke up. “Are you going to make me ask you again?”

She laughed. He’d asked her the same question every time he’d called this week and she’d dodged answering. She owed him an answer. “I just got off the phone with Pop. I’m leaving tomorrow after breakfast, so yes. I’ll be there for the weekend—and actually, longer. I was going to spend the next two weeks here in the city but talked to my dad about spending my vacation in Apple Grove.”

His sigh of contentment was hard to miss. “I’m glad. Wondering if I’d see you this weekend kept me up when I should have been sleeping. Wait—did you just say you’re spending vacation time with your dad?”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll be forty-five minutes from where I live instead of an hour and a half?”

She laughed. “Yes. Now, can we get back to the part where you’re telling me you can’t sleep? In your line of work that can’t be a good thing,” she said. “Is that why you sound so tired?”

“It’s not really a problem,” he told her. “I don’t need a lot of sleep.”

She had the feeling there was more to it than that. It didn’t make sense that someone who worked as hard as Patrick did during the day wouldn’t be sleeping. For now, she’d wait. He’d tell her about whatever kept him up nights sooner or later. Her gut told her it was something else. “Well, if you aren’t going to tell me what keeps you up nights, tell me about your day.”

“Busy. Only three routine calls today. Thankfully everyone is fine.”

“You make it sound as if it’s all just a part of your day, risking your life to save others.”

He paused and said, “It is.”

“Were they bad?”

He was quiet for so long, she wondered if asking him specifics was a bad thing. This was the part of getting to know someone that always made her nervous. She worried that she’d asked the wrong question at the wrong time—a question that would ultimately have the man running in the other direction—and into another woman’s arms.

Finally he said, “The first one was a car fire out on the highway. Melted the tires it was so hot.”

Something in his voice sounded off. “You sound really tired. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep if I hit the sheets now,” Patrick replied.

“Are you sure? Sometimes, I think I’m beyond tired, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I drift off.”

He chuckled. “We need to stop talking about pillows and beds, or I’ll never get any sleep tonight.”

The innuendo and heat from his comment sizzled in the air. Grace fanned herself and tried to think of something to say to redirect the conversation.

But before she could, Patrick said, “If I wasn’t so tired, I’d hop in my truck and drive out to see you tonight.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for what would happen if you did,” she confessed. “I thought we agreed to get to know one another first.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, that is what I had in mind.” His sexy chuckle had her imagination going haywire.

“Not fair.”

“True,” he agreed. “Sorry. We’ll take it slow,” he told her. “For now.”

“Good night, Patrick.”

“Night, Grace.”

***

Saturday dawned with the promise of a warm day. Grace grabbed her suitcase, tote bag, and laptop, and headed downstairs. She’d stop for coffee on the way home. The drive gave her time to mull over the things Patrick had said last night—and the things he hadn’t.

Every conversation revealed just a bit more of who he was, but she still had a feeling there was something he kept to himself. She was glad she’d have some time off from work and could spend part of it with her family, but she was really hoping to spend a good chunk of it with Patrick, so they could continue with their relationship and take it to the next level. She hoped he’d trust her with whatever it was that he seemed to be holding back. But that meant that eventually she might have to talk about how things ended with Ted—something she wasn’t looking forward to.

The weather was gorgeous and the music just what she needed to lift her up and brighten her mood. The drive was blessedly uneventful. She pulled into the driveway, surprised but glad to see that Patrick’s truck was already there.

“Hey, Pop,” she called out as her father walked toward her from the open barn door.

“Hey yourself, Gracie.” He hugged her and set her back so he could look at her.

“What?”

“I’m just glad that you’ll be spending time with us. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, but that can wait. Patrick’s still in the barn. I left him to tighten up a few nuts and bolts.”

“Finished up, Joe. Hey.” Patrick’s deep voice had butterflies fluttering in her belly. “I’m glad you made it.” His nearness had her blood pumping and her breath hitching in her breast—the same reaction she experienced last week.

“I’ve got to call Mary back,” Joe said, looking from Grace to Pat and then back again. “Why don’t you two—visit?” He was whistling when he walked up the back steps.

“Pop’s up to something.”

Patrick grinned and swept her off her feet and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Hey!” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you,” he said, taking off at a jog, past the back porch steps, heading toward the field behind her family’s house.

Breathless from surprise and the warm, firm hand on the seat of her jeans, Grace started to laugh. “Are you crazy?”

His answering rumble was unintelligible, so she tried to lift and turn so she could see his face. He picked up speed, so she had no choice but to fall back against his back. “Put…me…down!”

Surprisingly her demand was answered immediately as he swept her off his back and into his arms, but he kept going. His gaze was focused on something in the distance beyond the fenced-in field. Grace tried, but she couldn’t figure out what he was staring at or where they were headed.

“What are we running from?”

He chuckled. “The face plastered against the picture window. I think your father’s spying on us.”

The vibrations rumbling around in his chest as he spoke soothed her into relaxing against him. As if that was all he’d been waiting for, he slowed down to a jog.

“I can walk,” she insisted, although she had to admit, she’d never been carried anywhere before. Was this what it felt like, being carried away, the tangle of emotions leaving her breathless?

He slowed to a walk and settled her higher in his arms, so she was right against his heart. But the beat wasn’t as fast as she knew hers would be if she’d been the one running and carrying someone.

“You’re not winded at all and don’t look tired.” She didn’t mean for her words to sound like she was accusing him, so she asked, “Do you run as part of your training?”

They were halfway across the field, headed toward the woods. “Yeah, we get used to training in our turnout gear and breathing equipment—about one hundred fifteen pounds if you’re a roofman like me—then add in the weight of the hoses. Hell, I could carry you for miles, Grace.”

She frowned. Was he being nice? She knew she was heavy. “I’m not a lightweight anymore.”

He grinned down at her. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

His strength awed her. The need to wrap around him like a vine nearly overwhelmed her. After their phone conversation, anticipation had kept her up most of the night. Nestled in his arms was right where she wanted to be, but she needed to be clear headed where this man was concerned. He was important and she didn’t want to screw things up.

“I can walk.”

He paused and looked down at her. “I like carrying you.”

He shifted his handhold and slid a hand beneath her breast, grazing it. His touch sent her spiraling into another dimension where only the two of them existed and being held in his arms was the only thing that mattered. “I can’t think when you’re touching me.”

“You’re killing me, Grace.” He set her on her feet and took her by the hand.

“How much time do we have before everyone gets here for the game?”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to tell you. The game’s tomorrow. I’m here just visiting today. Dan said he and Meg will be stopping by after they run errands.” He tugged on her hand. “Now’s our chance for a little alone time. Your father mentioned one of your favorite spots—that looks like it.”

She smiled. “My favorite meadow. It has the sweetest grass. I spent a lot of time there as a kid rolling in it and picking blades for my fairy houses.”

“That’s what he said. Let’s go.”

Pinpricks of awareness sparked between them as they walked. When they reached the meadow, he stopped to pull her against him. But instead of the tongue-tangling kiss she expected, he placed soft, tentative kisses along the arch of her brow and down the curve of her cheek. “You taste like lavender.” He paused to nudge her chin up and began to nibble the underside of it. “And rain.” He pressed his lips where he nibbled, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone. “You’re delicious.”

His quiet words flipped a switch inside of her, allowing her to finally give in to the overwhelming need to let him lead wherever he was going. Reveling in his every caress, she was rewarded when his lips slid along her collarbone and pressed against the hollow of her throat.

She breathed a sigh of relief and tilted her head back, giving him silent permission to do more, hoping he’d take the hint to continue down toward her breasts. She suddenly ached for more of his touch. When he pulled back again, she nearly wept with need. “You’re killing me.”

“Baby, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Tell me then.” Grace didn’t mean for her voice to sound so breathy.

“I want to make love to you until I’m blind, crippled, and crazy.”

She couldn’t control the giggle at his words.

“Trust me,” he said, tipping her head back so their eyes were locked on one another. “Once I get started, there will be no stopping.”

Grace wondered if it had been his intention all along to drive her to the edge of distraction and leave her wanting. “This might sound like a line, but it’s not. I’ve never felt like this before.”

***

“Ah, Grace.” He tucked his head beneath her ear and inhaled the fragrance that was already imprinted on his heart. “I feel the same way.”

Her soft sigh had him settling her against his heart, ignoring the demands of his body, showing her his ability to cherish and not just take. He’d been in relationships before that were all heat and no heart. He didn’t want that with Grace.

But
would
she
pass
the
Garahan
sticking
test?
His ex hadn’t.

Firefighters gave everything they had to their jobs, so the women in their lives had to prove that they’d stick through the tough times, picking up the slack when their men were broken and bleeding on the inside from the very jobs that they loved. His brother Mike had found that with his fiancée, Moira.

He traced his thumb along the line of her jaw and the surprising tear that slipped from the corner of her eye. “Baby, what is it?”

“Just when I’ve decided I’m not what any man would want until I go on a crash diet, you walk into my life and have got me so twisted up on the inside wanting you that it hurts to breathe.”

The hurt she tried to hide was there deep in her eyes. “Want me to hobble him?”

She blinked. “What?”

He slowly smiled. Her tears were gone and her eyes were clear. “The guy who made you think you need to be skinny. The ancient art of hobbling leaves your enemies alive but helpless.”

She tilted her head to one side. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that entails.”

“
Aut
vincam
aut
periam
.”