by Sky, JoAnn
Her heart twinged. Yikes. She nodded.
“Gracie, please tell Noah he can stay here longer than a few days. Tell him he can stay as long as he wants. You don’t mind, do you?”
Something told her she’d just been played. Her insides spun like bald truck tires stuck in mud. A couple of days she could handle. But Noah on the farm for the next two weeks? This place was too small for the both of them. The whole state of Nevada was too small for the both of them. “Well, uh, I think Noah probably wants to get back to his own place.” She looked to Noah for help.
JJ’s pleading eyes got there first. “Who’s gonna help me feed the chickens, Noah?”
“Come on, bud, you’ve been feeding them yourself for over a year.” Noah’s voice wavered, like the thought of staying with Grace for that long unnerved him as much as it did her.
“But you won’t be here to wake me up.”
Grace raised her hand. “I’ll wake you up.”
“You don’t even know what time.” JJ stuck out his lower lip. “Just say he can stay, Gracie. He won’t bother you, I promise. Please, please, please.” Panic vibrated in his voice and tears collected in those bright blue eyes, threatening to fall and crack her determination.
It wasn’t fair. JJ had lost more than he ever should have, and at way too early an age. A hot mess of memories built up at the back of her brain, pushed down her throat, and erupted like a firebomb in her chest. It hadn’t been fair to her at sixteen, either.
Grace nodded to Noah. “Okay.”
“Yes! I’ll help you get your stuff ready.” JJ grabbed Noah’s arm and tugged him out of the kitchen.
JJ’s giggles couldn’t drown out the blood pounding in Grace’s ears. Somehow she’d gone from slipping in and out of town without any complications, to sleeping next door to the biggest complication of all.
She’d have to keep her distance to keep her sanity. Otherwise, this wouldn’t turn out well for either of them.
Chapter Four
From across the dining room table, Noah watched Gracie dab her mouth with her napkin. Cloth napkins. Special for her. JJ had insisted.
“That was quite possibly the best meat sauce I’ve ever tasted,” Gracie said, sitting back with her glass of wine. Her second glass, not that he was counting. Noah glanced down at his own, his third. When she first agreed to let him stay in the cottage, he’d wondered if they’d get along. But dinner went fine; great, actually. Maybe they’d both matured enough to let bygones be bygones.
Maybe the housing arrangements wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Who wants the last meatball? Any takers?” Noah held the ladle over his plate, as if to dump its contents there.
JJ’s hand shot up. “Me, me, me!” He jumped out of his seat.
“Then it’s yours, bud.” Noah plopped the hunk of meat on JJ’s plate. He gobbled it down.
“What’s your sauce secret?” Gracie asked.
“My secret? It’ll cost you.” Noah winked and didn’t miss the tint of pink in her cheeks. Pink that had nothing to do with the wine. God, she was sexy when she blushed.
“What’d you have in mind?” She raised a brow and took another sip of wine.
He felt himself harden, his jeans tightening. On second thought, this housing arrangement was dangerous. Very dangerous.
“Lamb meat,” JJ piped up. “Sometimes goat.” He started collecting the napkins and organizing the dirty utensils.
Gracie practically spat out her wine. “What?”
“His secret ingredient is lamb meat and sometimes goat,” JJ said, without stopping his mission to refold the used napkins.
She looked from Noah to JJ and back to Noah, as if begging him to correct the kid, for the goat thing and the napkin thing.
Noah’s mouth twisted into a grin. “Tonight was lamb,” he said, ignoring the napkin-folding, since it was normal—or at least, normal for JJ. “It’s more tender than beef and more flavorful. Come on,” he goaded her. “You liked it.”
“JJ.” She reached across the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. The boy froze. “You absolutely must warn me when Noah uses goat, okay?”
JJ shrugged off her hand, looked straight ahead, and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” He dropped his hand. “But it’s really good, Gracie,” he said as he went back to folding, “and better even than rabbit.”
Noah barked a laugh, and maybe it was the wine, but Gracie smiled, then downed the contents of her glass.
Noah mussed JJ’s hair. “Come on, kid. Washing or drying?” Noah glanced toward Gracie, wishing he’d had the time to repair all the broken annoyances around the house. “The dishwasher’s dead. Been meaning to fix it. I’ll take a look at it tomorrow, I promise.”
“No worries.” Gracie pushed herself up from the table. “But the cook doesn’t clean, that’s the rule. I’ll wash and dry tonight. You boys go move Noah’s stuff out of my bedroom.”
Noah watched her grab an apron from the cupboard, like it was second nature, and set to washing the dishes. A comfortable warmth spread through his chest before he could stop it. Dammit. Seven years ago, pretending he didn’t want Gracie had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he’d wanted her to follow her dreams, and she wouldn’t have left this town, regardless of how bad things were at home, if that had meant leaving him, too. And he couldn’t have left with her, not then. By that time, the signs of his father’s Alzheimer’s were rapidly becoming clear. Like the days Dad wouldn’t remember to get dressed before trying to leave the house.
So Noah stayed, wishing things were different. Wondering if Gracie would ever forgive him. For years he’d fought the urge to crawl after her, beg her to take him back. He’d shoved those feelings deep into the crevices of his soul. And here they were, dripping out, worse than waterboarding.
He’d forced himself to stop keeping track of her every move a few years back, right after she’d gotten her fancy photography job. Since then, he thought he’d moved on. He even dated regularly, or at least occasionally. He’d built a new life for himself, a good one. She obviously had, too. But like it or not, he’d missed her. A lot. Watching her, something warm and mushy filled his insides. Something good. He could get used to this.
…
Grace stood at the kitchen sink, replaying the evening’s conversation with JJ. That kid was a hoot once he started talking. She scrubbed at the last pan and tried to remember the last time she’d cooked a meal. Takeout didn’t count, but did microwaving frozen entrees?
Grace knew the moment when Noah returned to the kitchen. Somehow in the past few hours, she’d gotten overly sensitive to his presence. Now she felt the weight of his gaze, heavy and hot, on her back.
She popped out the sink plug. “All set up?” She faced him, drying her hands on the apron.
“Yep, and JJ’s in bed. Might even be asleep by now. A Mack truck could roll through his room and he wouldn’t wake.”
“Asleep? Dang, I have Skittles for him for dessert. I hear they’re his favorite.”
“How did you—”
“Mrs. Walters.” She smirked.
Noah leaned against the doorframe. His eyelids lowered, but not enough to cover the look she recognized, one that had always made her knees as jiggly as Jell-O. Dang him.
She broke his stare and untied her apron, folded it, then hung it neatly over the back of a chair. Anything to avoid looking up, because her resolve to stay away from him had melted along with her kneecaps.
“Come sit on the porch with me,” Noah said as he pushed himself away from the wall.
Her eyes met his, and those deep blue pools pulled her under. She followed him outside to the old wooden swing, one her father had put together for her mom. There was a time when he would have done anything to please her. Actually, Grace couldn’t remember a time when he wouldn’t have, until the Incident.
The seat still creaked as she and Noah swung. Bright stars filled the black sky, a blanket of twinkling night-lights.
“I’d
forgotten how close you feel to heaven out here. You can’t get away from the street and building lights in New York. The stars get lost.”
“You like it there?”
It should’ve been an easy question. Still, she struggled for the right words. “I’m comfortable. I’ve made friends. I like my job.”
He eyed her outfit. “Farm girl turned fashionista.”
Some of the perks of working for Simon were the free designer clothes and jewelry, and the exotic travel opportunities that came with the fashion shoots. They made up for the abusively long hours and the occasional beastly brides when they shot weddings.
Grace worked hard at her job. She earned the perks. Still, Noah’s scrutiny made her squirm. She bristled. “It’s my job.”
“Yeah, Simon Pulski. Photographer extraordinaire. Interesting guy.” Noah didn’t sound interested. He sounded annoyed, almost like he was… No. Noah had never been the jealous type, even when they were together.
“How did you know?” Grace hadn’t set out to be a photographer. She’d wanted to see the world and figured she’d start with New York. A night class in photography and a chance meeting at a bagel shop, and Grace found herself interning for one of the most sought-after commercial photographers in all New York. Six months later, Simon had offered her an enviable full-time position. A position that screamed I’m on my way up in multiple languages. But she’d never told anyone back home. It wouldn’t have mattered to her father.
He shrugged. “I keep track of old friends.”
“Friends.” She gave a fake laugh. “That’s what we were?”
He didn’t answer, and she didn’t push it. She wasn’t sure she’d have had an answer, either. Her phone rang, and—speak of the devil—it was Simon’s executive assistant, Claire.
Grace answered. “Isn’t it a little late, Claire, even for you?”
“Simon needs you.”
“Simon always needs someone or something. I’m on leave.”
“He’s got that shoot in St. Croix day after tomorrow that he’s prepping for, and then that wedding in Milan.”
Ah yes. An Italian actress was marrying billionaire number three. Some girls had all the luck. “Both have been on his schedule for months. So…?”
“The Marcos want their wedding photos. Simon promised the books by the end of the week. I need at least a day for printing. They called today hoping they were done early.” Claire’s frustration oozed through the phone.
Grace stood, took several steps away from the swing, and lowered her voice. “The Marcos? I prepped their photos before I left. All Simon has to do is work his magic and put it all together. He promised he’d take care of it.”
“What can I say, Grace? You know how it goes.”
Grace gritted her teeth. “No, I don’t know. I’m not in charge of anything.”
“We both know you’re in charge of a hell of a lot more than Simon would ever admit. You should come back. You know things always go haywire when he’s traveling. We need you.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this can’t be happening. “I can’t just come back. You have to deal with this.”
“You know the Marcos will drag Simon’s name through knee-deep mud if their wedding photos aren’t perfect—and on time. I have a finance degree. I’m not a frickin’ fairy godmother.”
Was that a sob she heard? This was a new low. Simon had managed to make someone cry, and he wasn’t even on the same continent. “Okay, okay, email me everything. I’ll lay it out and put everything together.” Grace sighed, mentally adding it to her overflowing to-do list. What usually took Simon a couple hours would take her triple the time. “They’ll get their photo books.”
“I knew we could count on you,” Claire gushed. “I’ll email everything first thing tomorrow. You’ll have it when you wake up.”
The line went dead.
“What a mess,” Grace muttered. She breathed deep once, twice, three times before turning back to Noah.
The corners of his lips turned up. “Yeah, sounds like you really like your job.”
“How do you manage?” She shoved her phone into her back pocket and sat down on the swing. “The property, JJ, that computer thing you mentioned at dinner—is that your real job?” The words came out harsher than intended.
“Still direct, I see.” He laughed. “You probably fit right in with that New York fast talk. Yeah, that computer thing is my real job. I do web design, promotion, that sort of thing. It’s picking up. Started with the Reno Rodeo Club and now all the northern Nevada clubs want me.” He sighed. “It’s good. I’ve even got an interview with a casino company down in Vegas.”
“That’s fantastic, Noah. I’m happy for you.” And she was. Noah had always been interested in computers and design work. Maybe breaking up had been a good thing. It was something she wouldn’t have even imagined thinking years ago. But she hadn’t just survived the separation, she’d thrived. And apparently, so had he.
Why did that realization have such a bitter aftertaste? She forced a smile. “Sounds like you’ve got some travel in your future.”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
“Then why this?” She waved her hand, indicating the ranch. What did he see in this run-down place?
“I’ve always loved this place.” He looked at her wistfully, like he expected her to agree. But she couldn’t. He should’ve known that. He looked out at the dark fields. “You sure you want to sell?”
“What, because it holds too many good memories to let it go?” Her words dripped with anger and disappointment. Sadness. “Good memories, what an oxymoron.”
This place represented nothing but brokenness and failure—her father’s brokenness and her own failure. When her mom left, her father lost his will to live, his job, and then his mind. Grace had tried to pick up the pieces and make him whole, but it hadn’t been enough. She wasn’t enough. Instead, he’d spiraled down faster.
“I want to buy it.” Noah’s words rushed out like he was afraid she’d cut him off before he got them out.
“What?” He couldn’t have said what she thought she heard. The universe wasn’t that cruel.
“I want to buy the ranch from you.”
“Wh…why?” He hadn’t wanted her. He’d practically pushed her out the door to New York. And now it was like she couldn’t get rid of him. He filled up every space in the house, every air molecule in this wide-open ranch.
“I’ve always wanted my own ranch, you know that.”
Yeah, she’d known he liked the outdoors and the animals, like all boys do. She thought he’d grow out of the cowboy fantasy, like most men do. And more importantly… “Why this one?”
He shrugged. “Maybe JJ can visit next summer.”
She was supposed to facilitate a cross-country relationship between JJ and the guy who’d scorned her? Forget that. “What do you want from me, Noah? You made your choice. It wasn’t me.” And it almost killed me. “All I wanted was to help my father. You promised me you’d be there for me. And then you…and he…because she…” She bit her lip, trying to keep down the mush of emotions bubbling inside her. “And ever since, I’ve made my way on my own. All on my own.” Her voice cracked, despite herself.
He started to speak, but she held up her hand. This was a conversation she wasn’t ready to have, at least not tonight. Seven years and she still wasn’t ready to talk, out loud, about The Incident, about her mother and that…that…man—barely a man, at twenty-three. Grace still couldn’t believe her mother had had an affair with her high school’s new biology teacher. How she wished to God she hadn’t gone back to school for her textbook that day—or heard that familiar giggle in the closet. And why on earth did she open up the door and peek inside?
No, she wouldn’t talk about it. The only thing that made it hurt less was cutting herself off from the people who let her down. Some days, on really busy days, it didn’t hurt at all. Not until nighttime, when she crawled into her empty bed in her efficiency apartment and remembere
d all the broken promises and her personal list of let-downs.
Noah was at the top of that list.
She took a deep breath. “Just forget it.”
“Let me explain. I—”
“It’s water under the bridge.” She squeezed her eyes shut. She was over this, she really was. What difference did it make if he bought the place? It’s not like she’d be back after this trip.
Who was she kidding? She could already hear JJ begging to visit every school break.
She pushed through the swirl of confusion in her brain. She’d think about it tomorrow, with a clear head. “It doesn’t matter. I need to get up to speed.” She opened her eyes, focused her brain. “We’ve got goats now? What else? We only had a few chickens and a garden when I left. And the horses.”
Noah eyed her for a moment, perhaps debating whether to let the subject change. He sighed. “Yeah, we have a dozen chickens now, but the garden’s only about a third the size it was.” He shifted on the swing. “We used to have sheep, got plenty of room for them. I think I’d rather have sheep than those damn goats. There’s two of them. Hannah’s pregnant. She’ll deliver any day now. Plus we milk Lacy every morning, afternoons, too, when we can.”
“What do you do with the milk? Don’t expect me to drink it.”
Noah laughed. “Nah. Bobby Jones from down the road takes it. His wife fancies herself some sort of chef and likes to experiment with it.” He shrugged.
Grace shook her head. “And I thought chickens were a leap for my father. The only animals he used to like were his horses.”
“They’re for JJ. I told you, he loves the animals. He loves this place. Your dad wanted him to grow up like he did, like we did, with the ranch in his blood. I didn’t see eye to eye on lots with him, but that, I agreed with.” He pointed out into the fields. “I’ve been thinking of planting some fruit trees on the back ten acres. Could make a good orchard one day.”
His voice carried hopes and dreams. The same sentiments she’d bought into when they’d planned their future in the weeks and months before graduation. She wouldn’t get sucked in again. Instead, she changed the subject. “I watched how you and JJ interact. He thinks the world of you.”