Going Wild
Page 24
“What happened to your arm?” Grant asked.
She looked down. The fabric had stuck to the weeping skin. She stepped to the side, putting the table between them. “You aren’t the only one doing body modification since we last saw each other.”
“Is that a tattoo?”
“None of your business,” Jane said.
Grant frowned. “I’m sorry. It’s beautiful. Whatever it is.”
“It’s a mermaid.” A lovely, magical creature. With flowing auburn hair. And fins.
“Do mermaids eat trout?”
She blinked. “What?”
He lifted the cover off the platter. “Fresh fish. Very, very fresh.” He strode over and pulled the chair she’d been sitting in over to the table. “Please, it’s getting cold.”
She hesitated, then sat. A single white dish held three perfect fillets, rice pilaf, and sautéed greens.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked. He didn’t owe her anything, certainly not this. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be her.
“The bear ate your pack, so we had to cut our trip short,” he said, “and you didn’t get to eat any fish from Granite Lake.”
It smelled delicious, but she was too agitated to eat. “Will you sit down?” On the opposite side of the table, where she couldn’t reach.
He lifted his grandfather’s chair, planted it less than an inch from her elbow, and sat down. “Mind if I eat with you? I made two plates.”
If she leaned to the right, her arm would press against his. If she tilted her head, she could smell his skin. If she asked, he would kiss her.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
His smile creased the white skin of his shaved cheeks. “Aren’t you going to ask me where the fish came from?”
Knowing more was too dangerous. Every smile, every inch of him was too dangerous. “I’m afraid to ask,” she said.
He flinched but kept smiling. “Come on. Guess.”
He was taking such a risk, doing this here with his family watching. She had to give him something in return. “Grant, I… I do care about you. That’s… the problem.” Her heart began to beat harder, faster. She owed him more, but it was hard to get the words out. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m afraid of caring too much.”
“I know,” he said.
Just like that. He knew? “How could you know?”
“I’d really like you to ask me where I got the fish.”
She took a deep breath. “All right. Where did you get the fish?”
“Granite Lake.”
“What?”
Smile fading, he looked down at the plate. “I drove up yesterday.”
His words hung there like… like bait on a hook, demanding she ask more questions and realize what he’d done.
She stared. “You… drove up to that same spot, hiked up to the lake”—she held up the plate—“caught these fish, hiked out, drove back home, and cooked them for me here at your grandfather’s house—knowing I’d be here because you made that happen?”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
She set down the plate and got to her feet. “Don’t you get it? I’m trying not to fall in love with you. How am I supposed to do that if you do shit like this?”
He got to his feet. “I love how you swear, Jane.” He caught her up in his arms. “Say it again.”
His body felt better than anything should ever feel. “Let go of me. It’s only getting worse.”
He grinned, held her tighter. “Jane. I love you.”
“Oh, Christ, now you’ve done it. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
He pressed his mouth against hers, lifting her off the ground, and she figured it was a lost cause, she was a lost cause, and kissed him back.
God, how she’d missed this. There was no going back now.
After a few long, hot, sweet minutes, she tilted her head back and frowned at him. “I love you too, damn it.”
“I’m sorry.” He kissed her again to show her how much.
35
The fish was delicious.
Grant assumed it was, anyway. He was too delirious with love and lust to register the taste of anything, but he watched Jane devour it, glancing up at him every few seconds to smile or to tell him it was good.
“Your grandfather is watching us from that window,” she said, nodding toward the breakfast room.
“Turns out he’s a romantic.” Grant ran his hand up and down Jane’s thigh under the table. “Who would guess?”
“Turns out I’m a romantic,” she said. “Never saw that coming.”
He laughed. “As I said, I love you, but you’re not a romantic.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it with an adorable snap. “That’s a relief.”
“Tell me again about how you love me,” he said.
“God help me, it’s too soon and I must be out of my mind, but I love you,” she said.
It was still a shock. “I thought you cared a little, but this is more than I’d hoped.”
“You said you knew already,” she said.
“I knew you were afraid of falling for me,” he said. “Not quite the same.”
“It was hopeless from the start.”
“This just gets better and better,” he said with a grin. He pushed his plate at her. “Here, have more of the fish. I ate my share while you sat here talking to my grandfather.”
She hesitated, then speared a fillet with her fork. “I can’t wait until we can eat this at the campfire the way God intended.”
“Jane,” he said.
“What’s the matter?”
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” He put his hand over his chest. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear a woman say that to me?”
She pushed away from the table. “Come on, let’s get out of here so we can be alone.”
“I take it back. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” He jumped up and took her hand.
“We should clean up.”
He cleared the table and carried the tray back to the kitchen. As he’d expected, his grandfather met them just inside the door.
“Things are going well, I see,” Grandfather said.
“How was your phone call with the doctor?” Jane asked. Grant walked past them and set the tray on the counter, catching Rachelle’s eye and sharing a wink.
“We can drop the charade now.” Grandfather slapped Grant on the back. “Did you have to tell her about the trust fund to seal the deal?”
Grant tensed. “Believe it or not, no.” He and Jane should’ve skipped out without saying goodbye. “She’s willing to take me as I am.”
“You’ve got a trust fund?” Jane asked, elbowing him in the ribs. “Excellent.”
“Of course he does, not that he’ll use it,” Grandfather said.
“I don’t need to use it,” Grant said.
“Sometimes you’re as half-baked as your father was,” Grandfather said.
“I’m as half-baked as you, apparently,” Grant said.
His grandfather turned to Jane. “He’ll inherit more when I die. A depressing thought for both of us,” he said. “His future great-grandchildren will be well provided for, no matter what happens, don’t worry about that.”
Grant’s patience snapped. He’d explicitly told his grandfather not to say anything inappropriate that would make Jane uncomfortable. “I told you—”
“We’ll both provide, one way or another, for whatever comes along.” Jane took Grant’s arm and lifted it over her shoulders. “Won’t we?” she asked, tilting her head back to gaze at him.
He never wanted her to stop looking at him like that.
“Jane and I are leaving now,” Grant said. If they didn’t leave now, he was going to start arguing or kissing, and he’d rather it were the latter, in private.
When they were passing the medieval knight in the dining room, he heard his grandfather shout, “You’r
e welcome!”
Jane laughed. “I could get to like that man.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
Out front in the sunny drive, they walked to Jane’s minivan, parked near the olive grove.
“I was half expecting a Ferrari,” Grant said. “To go with the tattoo.”
“Mermaids need room for their tails,” she said. “Duh.”
He caught her up in his arms again and pressed her against the side of the van. “I’m not going to make it to Oakland. It’s too far. The Sunday traffic is going to be horrible.” He dropped kisses on her throat as he pressed his hips against hers. “I missed you so bad.”
Groaning, she arched against him. “Missed. You. Too.”
“Don’t ever kick me out of your life again.”
She grabbed his face in her hands. “Won’t,” she said, kissing and licking his jaw.
The minivan at their back was a staid, boring companion to their passion.
“By the way, why do you drive this thing?” he asked between kisses, love bites, nibbles, and gropes.
She pulled her arm free, lifted something out of her purse, and squeezed. The rear door slid open.
“Because of all the room,” she said.
He looked inside. It was huge. The seats were lowered into the floor. The only cargo was an emergency blanket and a pillow. The windows were tinted.
“I love you,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and pulled him inside with her.
Epilogue
Six months after Jane gave Grant his own key to the stained glass door, she became an aunt.
His name was Daniel. Billie and Ian called him Dan the Man, Danny Boy, Dino Bino, and Danyeller, but never, not even once, “it.”
Daniel was too small (and spoiled) to realize he had an excessive number of aunts and uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers, and countless friends—far more than even the loneliest child would ever need. Jane made sure to stand out, however, by spending more time with him than anyone except his parents.
With all those hours Jane spent with Daniel, limited only by his parents and the demands of Jane’s new job as the CFO of an artisanal cheese distributor, Grant would’ve been lonely. Therefore, he brought his laptop and worked on his novel while Jane played with Daniel.
(Actually, most of the time he only thought about working on his novel. He played with Daniel as much as she did. It was he who came up with Danyeller, in fact.)
To expand his opportunities for procrastination and writer’s block, Grant accepted a position as an English teacher at the community college down the street from their house in the Oakland Hills. He could’ve aimed for a more prestigious position at a four-year school, but he’d always enjoyed living life on his own terms and didn’t see why he should stop now that he was happily engaged to an honors graduate of Spreadsheet University. Unless he needed to provide for Danyeller’s infant car seat, he hiked to work on foot.
His book about Fane was already getting a lot of buzz and would be published during next year’s holidays. The flap of the hardcover edition contained an author photo taken after Grant was careful to neither shave nor trim his beard for two months. That had been Jane’s idea. A fluffy black cat had photobombed the headshot, her pointy ears covering some of the beard. That had been Shadow’s idea.
Jane’s new company was a web-based start-up that shipped organic Californian cheeses in chilled, reusable foam boxes to customers around the world. Six months after Jane came on board, after implementing her ideas, their profits began to skyrocket.
Before the year was out, they added cream cheese to the product line.
Just because Jane Garcia liked it so much.
About the Author
GRETCHEN GALWAY is a USA Today bestselling author who writes romantic comedies because love is too painful to survive without laughing. Raised in the American Midwest, she now lives in California with her husband and two kids.
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