That Blair could agree with. She’d seen the pain in Carter’s eyes when he’d been telling them what he could about what’d happened. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would’ve given up if there had been even a hint that Grant was still alive.
“It’s hard to accept he’s here, knowing you were in love with him first,” Drake whispered.
Shifting until she was straddling his hips, Blair bent down and kissed him. She let him feel the love she had for him, as their tongues tangled with each other. His hands went to her waist, and he drew her nightgown up her body. Pulling back just enough for him to get the garment over her head and toss it aside, Blair squirmed as his cock hardened against her bare ass.
She cupped his jaw and lowered her mouth, pausing just a fraction away from his. “I love you, Drake. I’m in love with you. Nothing will ever change that.”
His one arm went around her back, and the other behind her head. In one smooth move, he rolled them until he was lying on top of her. His intense gaze met hers as he grabbed a handful of her hair. Exquisite pain shot from her scalp to her clit, making it throb. “Say it again. If needing to hear it makes me a selfish bastard, so be it, but say it again, dammit.”
Blair couldn’t remember Drake ever being insecure about their relationship, but, right now, he was. Lifting her pelvis, she rubbed herself against his erection. She let him see the passion and devotion she felt for him in her eyes. “I’m in love with you, Drake. Forever.”
His mouth descended and took possession of hers. Their sex life was still amazing, even after all these years, but tonight, there was desperation in the way Drake made love to her. Blair offered him everything he needed and took everything he gave in return. She never wanted him to think she would leave him—not for Grant or anyone. So why was she imagining Grant was making love to her too?
Lying on his temporary bed, Grant tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. It wasn’t the mattress’s fault; it was the fact he couldn’t stop thinking of Blair being by his side like she’d been years ago. He hadn’t been a saint the past six months or so. He’d taken several women to bed, but always with the understanding he wouldn’t be there in the morning, nor should they expect to see him again. He’d met a few of them at Donovan’s and had to change where he’d been getting coffee every morning after hooking up with a curvy, blonde barista at the one he’d been stopping at. That’d kind of sucked because he still hadn’t found a place that made his coffee as good as she had. Yeah, it might’ve been childish to not go back to where she worked, but after he’d satisfied them both that night, he had no desire to ever see her again. Why? Because she wasn’t the woman he’d been desperately trying to erase from his mind for the past year and a half—Blair.
He’d been an ass not to marry her when he’d had the chance. But they’d both been so busy, her at the French embassy and him training and then going off into the field, they’d never set a date after becoming engaged. They’d wanted to return to Hazard for their wedding, so they’d be among family and close friends, but it just never seemed to be the right time. If Grant had known how things would go down, he would’ve insisted on, at least, a simple courthouse ceremony so Blair would’ve received survivor benefits from the government. Her and Trevor’s health insurance would’ve been covered, and she wouldn’t have needed to marry Drake.
Grant could still remember what her body had felt like under his. He only had to think her name and he grew hard, like he was now. And that had all been before he’d seen her again. Time had been extremely kind to Blair. Giving birth to three children had given her even more curves to love and revel in. She was probably about a size twelve or fourteen now, up from her former size eight, but she was even sexier now than she’d been back then. What he wouldn’t give to see her in all her naked glory.
Rolling onto his back, he closed his eyes and imagined what she looked like without her clothes obstructing his view. He might be breaking one of the Ten Commandments by coveting his brother’s wife, but he couldn’t help himself—he was probably already going to hell, so what was one more sin?
He pushed his briefs down off his hips, gripped his cock, and squeezed it hard. The tip was weeping with pre-cum, and he used it as lubrication. Was Blair’s pussy still bare? He used to love whenever she’d come home from the spa in D.C., all waxed and smooth. It’d made her ultra-sensitive, and that had turned both of them on. He doubted there was any place in Hazard where she could get that done, although she might not want to anymore after having three kids. Grant pushed the cute, little rug rats out of his mind. They didn’t belong there while he was fantasizing about their mother.
In Grant’s mind, Blair’s heat replaced his hand as she rode him. Her tits bounced as she rocked back and forth on his shaft. He could almost reach up and tweak one of them. A groan was wrenched from his mouth as he heard her moaning, panting, and begging in his mind. His hand pumped faster, harder, and he thrust his hips up as if fucking her.
Reaching down, he cupped his balls and rolled them in his hand. It wasn’t long before he felt the first signs of his impending orgasm. He lifted his chin, his head sliding down on the pillow. “Come for me, Blair. Oh, God, yes!”
With a muffled roar, Grant exploded. Multicolored lights flashed behind his eyelids as he spent himself, hot cum shooting onto his abdomen. He gasped for air as he came down from the sensual high of the endorphins coursing through his body.
He imagined Blair collapsing on top of him in post-coital bliss. Kissing his cheek, she whispered, “That was wonderful. I love you . . . Drake.”
Grant’s eyes flew open. Dammit!
Chapter Ten
“Hey, Blair,” Betty Lou called from the other end of the grocery store aisle. “You must be psychic. I was going to call you in just a few minutes.”
Blair smiled at her friend who owned the Bar None, having taken it over after her father’s heart attack. That was the one thing about small towns, it was rare to not run into someone you knew who wanted to chat. At least Lou was someone Blair didn’t mind seeing at the moment. She’d asked Drake to watch the kids for a bit after breakfast, needing some space from him and Grant, both of which had been broody this morning. The awkwardness that filled the air anytime Grant was in the room was starting to drive her nuts, but she didn’t want him to leave. If he did, she was afraid he’d disappear forever.
The two women met in the middle of the aisle, and Lou lowered her voice, almost to a whisper, to avoid being heard by anyone on either side of the fully-stocked shelves. “How’re you doing? Lane stopped by the bar last night and told me about Grant. I still can’t believe it.”
Blair had known the men had discussed sharing the information with Lou, since her bar/restaurant was popular with locals and visitors alike. If anyone was in a position to meet any strangers in town, it was Lou or the owners of the Moody Moon Motel. The place was far from being a Hilton, but from what she’d been told, the rooms were always clean—not that she’d ever been in any of them. It was one of those places in Hazard she drove by a few times every week but had never needed to stop at. There were also two B&Bs in town, and, apparently, Lane was going to be quietly investigating their current guests.
She was a little surprised Lou had said Lane’s name without the usual annoyance in her tone. Blair had no idea what’d happened between the two, who’d been a couple in high school, but while Lane seemed determined to win Lou back one of these days, she was fighting it tooth and nail. Maybe she was finally softening to him. But that was another story.
“Neither can I.” Blair shook her head. “I mean, it honestly feels like a Lifetime movie, you know? I still catch my breath when he walks into the room. It’s like seeing a ghost but knowing he’s real.”
“I can only imagine. How’s Drake taking it?”
“Hard. I can tell his shock, relief, and anger are still battling each other in his mind. I mean, we both kind of understand why Grant didn’t let us know he was alive after finding o
ut Drake and I had gotten married and had more kids, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.”
Lou’s eyes widened. “Does he know Trevor is his?”
Pretty much everyone in Hazard knew her oldest son was Grant’s and that she and Drake had originally married for the insurance, but they’d also accepted the couple had fallen in love over time and were happy for them. The gossip over their marriage of convenience had died down years ago. “Yeah, he does, but he’s agreed Trevor is too young to understand it yet. Maybe in a few years . . .” She shrugged. “For now, the kids are all calling him Uncle Grant. I’m just really worried about who sent Grant and me those photos.”
“Lane mentioned those but didn’t give me all the details. He just said to stay quiet about it and to keep an eye out for anyone who seems out of place.”
“I wish I could tell you more than you probably already know, but, honestly, I don’t know much more than that either. What I do know is that whatever happened back then, Grant said it’s classified.” Well, technically, that was what she was supposed to say if anyone asked her.
Lou crossed her arms and harrumphed. “I guess that’s why they call it the Secret Service. Is he really going to keep the rest of Hazard in the dark about him being alive? I mean, someone is going to recognize him sooner or later, and the gossip mill will be buzzing for weeks when that happens.”
“I don’t know, but for now, we’re supposed to keep it between ourselves. Shane, Tucker, and Hank got permission to tell Paige and Nicole, since the two of them can sniff out any lie or half-truth their husbands tell them, but they’re also being sworn to secrecy. Someone wanted Grant to return to Hazard; we just don’t know who or why yet.”
“Well, I’ll keep my eyes open for trouble and my mouth shut if anyone asks why. But if you need to talk, call me.”
Blair gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“Shit, here comes Bridget.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Blair saw the Hazard Falls’ combination snob, bitch, and tramp, with her teased hair, painted eyes, lips, and nails, and silicone-enhanced face and tits, and she was walking in their direction. Bridget Kline was the town’s longtime mayor’s daughter, and she took that to mean the local residents were her royal subjects, despite being put in her place several times by those who’d had enough of her superior attitude. The woman sneered as she approached. “Well, look who we have here. Who let you out of your bat cave so early in the day, Betty Lou?”
Never one to rise to Bridget’s bait, Lou smiled sweetly. “Probably the same person who let a certain bleached-blonde bimbo out of hers. Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what do you want, Bridget?”
Not responding, the woman eyed Lou in distaste for a moment before turning to Blair. “I’d like you to talk to your husband, Blair. I want him to make some new bookcases for my office, but he said he can’t do it before the new year. That’s not exactly the way to run a business, you know. Time is money.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that . . .” No, she wasn’t. “But Drake has been very busy. I know he’s not guaranteeing new orders for six months, at the very least.” That much was true. His reputation had grown tremendously over the past few years, and he’d been able to leave his construction job and still ensure their bills were paid, including their health insurance. There was even some money left over at the end of each month to add to Blair’s income, which went toward their savings. During next January’s winter break, they were planning to surprise the kids with the trip to Disney World Trevor had been dreaming of.
“If he said he can’t do it, then there’s nothing I can do to help you.” Not that she would anyway.
Bridget turned up her nose. “Well, then, I’ll just have to take my business elsewhere. There are plenty of carpenters out there who are more talented than him.”
Without saying goodbye to either woman, Bridget spun around and sashayed down the aisle in her five-inch stiletto heels. How she didn’t break her neck in those things was always a mystery to Blair. Leaning toward Lou, she lowered her voice. “What office is she talking about? Since when does Bridget work at all?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear yet? Daddy dearest gave her the money to open an art gallery up the street in Rusty Carlson’s place.” The elderly man had run a secondhand store out of the bottom half of his Main Street home, much to the embarrassment of the mayor’s office. Richard Kline had been trying to get the business shut down for years, but Rusty’s house had been grandfathered in for both a residential and commercial occupancy long ago. When Rusty had passed away last year, leaving behind no will or known relatives, the town had seized the property under the guise of an unpaid tax lien. The merchandise and personal belongings that’d filled both levels of the house, and the front and side yards, had been sold off, cheap, to a thrift store owner from the next town over. The old man’s meager savings in the bank had been just enough to pay for a proper funeral and burial in the local cemetery, which had been attended by most of the town. Rusty had been the type of man who’d always given someone a break if they’d needed it, and who’d usually been the first person to volunteer to help out a neighbor. Blair wasn’t the only townsperson who missed him.
“What the hell does Bridget know about art? And who does she think is going to buy it?” Most people Blair knew had maybe one or two paintings in their homes with the rest of the wall space decorated with family photos or western-themed displays. They certainly wouldn’t be spending money on high-priced art and that was most likely what Bridget would be trying to sell.
“Who the hell knows? Apparently, they think an art gallery would be good for tourism. She’s opening it next month but had already contracted some artists from the county and Garden City to showcase a few pieces during the rodeo.” Dozens of vendors rented out tent space each year, and there was always a wide variety of merchandise to browse through and food to enjoy when one wasn’t watching the events.
“I’m surprised she didn’t approach Drake for a piece; although, she may have, and he just blew her off. That wouldn’t surprise me.”
Lou pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and glanced at the screen for the time. “Listen, I have to get going; I’ve got a liquor delivery coming to the bar in a little bit. But if you need me for anything, call, and I’ll also let the guys know if I see anyone suspicious.”
After giving Lou a quick hug goodbye, Blair tried to refocus her attention on her shopping list. But her brief respite from thinking about Grant was over now that she was alone in her thoughts again. If only she could dismiss him from her mind and return to the pleasant life she’d been experiencing just a few days ago. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Now that she was over her initial shock at him being alive, she didn’t know how she felt about him returning to Florida after everything was over.
Chapter Eleven
Muttering a curse in irritation, Grant disconnected the call to one of the men, a retired SEAL, keeping an eye on the place. The guy had nothing new to report. Grant was starting to feel bad for them. They’d been rotating shifts over the past two days, with one working 6:00 am to 2:00 pm, another taking over until 10:00 pm, while the other two teamed up for the overnight. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it, they hadn’t seen anyone suspicious near the property. They’d also been keeping their ears to the ground in town, when they weren’t crashing in the RV one of them owned. It was parked at the Liberty Campgrounds since there’d been no occupancy at the Moody Moon or the B&Bs in town due to the rodeo.
There also hadn’t been any news from Brody when Grant had spoken to him a little while ago. Whoever had sent the photos to Grant and Blair hadn’t used a throwaway phone, as they’d expected. Instead, they’d been sent from a dummy email account that had gone through dozens of IP addresses around the world. Brody still hadn’t been able to trace it to the original account. Whoever had sent it was as good a hacker as the Trident geeks were and was taking his fucking
time in letting Grant know what his next move was.
In the meantime, Grant was going nuts being this close to the woman he still loved, deep down in his heart, knowing she’d never be his again. Every interaction she had with Drake and the children he’d observed just reminded Grant what could’ve been his if things had gone differently. The unfairness of it all churned in his gut, combining with anger, jealousy, and regret.
Sticking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, Grant strode across the yard to the back porch of the house. Drake was in his workshop, and, hopefully, Blair was busy with the children or some housework. Grant would fill up a travel mug with coffee, then start driving around town again, looking for anyone familiar or out-of-place. He needed the caffeine since he’d slept like shit last night. He’d awakened twice, thanks to his nightmares, reliving what he’d gone through in North Korea. After the second time, he hadn’t gone back to sleep. Instead, he’d gotten on the computer and had begun reading some of his old files from his time with the Company. While it’d been against protocol, Grant and other agents he’d known had kept copies of all reports and communications they’d filed during their time with the CIA—call it an insurance policy. Before going to Tampa, upon his release from hospital in Landstuhl, he’d retrieved several encrypted flash drives from a safety deposit box he’d secretly kept, after jumping through a few hoops since he’d no longer had his key. Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to pay for the box for twenty years in advance. Now, he was hoping something, or someone would stand out to him, but nothing had, as of yet.
Don't Shoot the Messenger: Hazard Falls Book 2 Page 7