Defending Hearts

by Shannon Stacey

  —

  Gretchen woke up the next morning feeling uncharacteristically groggy and cranky, and it was all Alex Murphy’s fault.

  Even when she was a little girl, she’d had chores before school, so she’d quickly learned one of the golden rules of living on a farm—go to sleep when your head hits the pillow so you can get up early and be ready to work.

  But last night she hadn’t gone to sleep when her head hit the pillow. She hadn’t gone to sleep an hour after her head hit the pillow. Of course there had been nights when she didn’t fall asleep immediately—like when Gramps died or when she’d been racking her brain to come up with ways for the farm to earn income—but she’d never tossed and turned for hours thinking about a man.

  It probably wasn’t a coincidence that it was also the first time she’d ever been attracted to a man whom it would be a really bad idea to sleep with. She didn’t have a lot of trouble finding male companionship when she was in the mood for it, but Alex was different. He was paying to live in her house, for one thing, so things could get messy.

  But mostly he was different because he made her feel different. As a rule, if she felt a sexual attraction to a man and things worked out, she acted on it. But Alex’s smile made her feel jittery, as though she’d had too much coffee and not enough food. And she felt awkward around him, which was new since she wasn’t in the habit of really giving a damn what people thought of her.

  So she’d lain awake and tried not to think about his smile or how wide his shoulders were or how very strong and capable looking his hands were. She didn’t remember what she’d dreamed about when she finally slept, but she’d woken feeling restless and out of sorts.

  What she needed was some good hard physical labor. Today she was going to work herself so long and so hard, she’d be lucky if she remembered to take her clothes off before she crawled into bed. If her body ached tonight, it would be due to the hard work, not because she desperately wanted the touch of a guy she barely knew.

  With a plan in place to prevent a repeat performance of the restless insomnia, Gretchen got out of bed and stretched. Then she quickly, and not very neatly, made her bed before grabbing her clothes for the day. Sharing a bathroom was more of a nuisance than she’d anticipated, but at least she wasn’t sharing the bathroom with Alex, too.

  She opened her door and stepped out into the hallway, where she almost ran into Alex. Instinctively, she clutched her bundle of clothes to her chest, hoping to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Uh . . . hi.”

  “Good morning.” His voice was still husky from sleep, and Gretchen tried—and failed—not to imagine him saying her name in just that tone. “Ida asked me to come and see if you were up.”

  Mortification made her want to step back into her room and slam the door in his face. “You can’t be serious.”

  “She said you never sleep past six and she’s worried you might be sick.”

  Or she might just be exhausted from staying up half the night fantasizing about the man standing in front of her. “I’m not sick. You can tell her I’ll be down in a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Why would I mind?”

  “She shouldn’t be asking you to do stuff for her.”

  “About that.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms, and Gretchen sighed. Having a discussion in the hallway before clothes and coffee wasn’t improving her morning any. “I really appreciate that you’re trying to set boundaries since I’m paying rent to be here. Maybe some people would be put off by some of Ida’s questions or being sent to drag a sleepyhead down to breakfast, but I truly don’t mind. I like her and I feel pretty at home with her.”

  Gretchen guessed the underlying implication there was that if she’d just relax, he could feel at home with her, too. There were distances to be maintained, though, so she simply gave him a sharp nod. “Wonderful. Since you’re so comfortable with her, I guess you can tell her if she gets too nosy.”

  He looked slightly amused, though she couldn’t imagine what she’d said that was funny. Unless he was trying not to laugh at her hair. Or the cows on her flannel sleep pants, which had been a gift from Kelly at least half a decade ago.

  “Yeah,” he said, standing up straight again. “I’m going to go drink my coffee now, and maybe yours, too, if you take too long.”

  She almost laughed, but managed to give him a stern look instead. “I’ve got a lot of acreage and a backhoe attachment for my tractor. You don’t want to touch my coffee.”

  He turned and walked back toward the stairs, but she could hear him chuckling as she closed the bathroom door. And fifteen minutes later, when she’d given Cocoa some love and then walked into the kitchen, he just smiled and poured coffee into her favorite mug before setting it at her place at the table.

  “Thank you,” she said, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

  “Please tell me she doesn’t cook like this every morning,” he said from across the table, which was covered with a mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and fruit.

  “A body needs fuel to get through the day,” Gretchen said.

  She could still remember the first time her grandfather said those words to her. It had been her first morning with her grandparents, and she’d been confused by the bounty of food on the table and asked for the sugary cereal she usually ate dry out of a plastic baggie. Gram had started fussing over her, but Gramps had simply pointed at the food and told her to eat. She ate.

  “A body’s going to need some big plans to burn all this off,” Alex said, spooning some scrambled eggs onto his plate.

  Gretchen paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “I plan to work.”

  Gram chuckled as she set a mason jar of homemade strawberry jam on the table and sat down. “Gretchen doesn’t like to talk much over breakfast. She’s usually working out in her mind what she needs to get done for the day.”

  “Fair enough. This looks too delicious to let get cold, anyway.”

  Gretchen frowned at her plate. Her grandmother was right, but hearing herself described out loud like that made Gretchen want to wince. She was damn proud of being like her grandfather, but she didn’t actually want to be him. She was too young to turn into an old man, for goodness’ sake.

  “Do you have any plans today?” she asked Alex after taking a bracing gulp of strong, black coffee.

  He looked surprised for a second, since he’d just been told she didn’t like breakfast conversation, but then he nodded. “I’m heading over to see Coach in a little while. Then I’ll probably wander around for a bit. I might hit the library and see if I can poke around the archives for some background history.”

  “I have some books that need to go back,” Gram said. “And a murder mystery I requested came in. I got a call about it and then totally forgot.”

  “Do you want to go into town with me, or do you want me to return your books? I’m sure if you call, they’ll let me pick up your murder mystery.”

  “You don’t want to drag me around town all day, but if you don’t mind stopping at the library for me, that would be wonderful.”

  Gretchen forced herself to keep eating and stay out of it. If Alex didn’t want to help Gram out, he wouldn’t have offered. And since they were so at home with each other, they could figure it out. Meanwhile, she’d just sit there and apparently channel her grandfather.

  “You okay?” she heard Alex ask, and she realized he was talking to her.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You just sighed, like something was wrong.”

  “Just kicking myself for sleeping in,” she lied. “I usually take care of the horses before breakfast, so I’m already behind.”

  “It’s not like you to lie in bed half the day,” Gram said, despite the fact that it wasn’t even seven thirty. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Forcing hersel
f not to so much as glance at the reason she’d been “lying in bed half the day” lest she blush at the memory of her nocturnal thoughts, she nodded. “I’m fine, Gram. First night in a new room and all.”

  “Sorry about that,” Alex said.

  She smiled at him in case he was actually feeling guilty. “I’ll be fine, and we’re glad to have you here.”

  He smiled back at her, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m glad to be here.”

  Wondering if those laugh lines were a detail her imagination would add to the fantasy version of him she’d been tormented by last night, Gretchen turned her attention back to her eggs. If she was going to work hard enough to keep fantasies of Alex at bay, her body was going to need a lot of fuel.

  —

  Alex drove down Eagles Lane—so renamed after Alex and his teammates brought home the first football championship—and did a slow roll up to Coach’s house.

  He’d been a sullen fifteen-year-old the first time he’d walked up the front steps of the old New Englander the McDonnells called home, and sitting on the porch with Coach that night had changed his life forever.

  It had been Alex’s seventh or eighth trip to the police station for fighting, and Coach happened to stop in on other business just in time to see Alex’s mom break down in tears. With a husband who was out of patience with his stepson and two young daughters who didn’t need his bad behavior setting an example, she didn’t know what to do with Alex anymore.

  Coach had comforted Joanne and then offered to take Alex home with him for the night. Overwhelmed and exhausted, Alex’s mom had quickly agreed it would be for the best. After giving her son a hug that left his T-shirt damp from her tears, she’d turned around and walked out.

  Sitting on Coach McDonnell’s front porch, Alex had rolled his eyes as the lecture began. But by the time Coach stopped talking, Alex was too busy swiping at the tears in his eyes to roll them. They’d talked mostly about Alex’s dad and how losing him couldn’t derail his life. And Coach understood how he’d kept himself on the outside as his mother remarried and had more children because he’d felt like the only one who remembered his dad. And now he felt like an outsider and didn’t know how to fix it.

  Alex listened to the older man’s advice and tried out for the football team, and from that day until he graduated, playing defensive tackle for the Stewart Mills Eagles drove him. With a strong mentor, a way to channel his restless energy, and a few teammates who became like brothers to him, he stopped lashing out. He strengthened his relationship with his mother and stepfather, and honored his father’s memory by trying to be a man he’d be proud of.

  It was Mrs. McDonnell who’d first noticed Alex’s favorite thing was taking pictures with the ancient camera that had been his dad’s. Alex had fuzzy memories of posing for that camera before the logging accident that made him fatherless, and he had shoeboxes full of the photos his dad had saved.

  It had taken Coach’s wife to help him understand his bond with the camera and those shoeboxes. In capturing images of his wife and son and his town, Alex’s dad was also telling his own story. Alex could see his love for his subjects in the composition, and the connection sparked a passion for photography in his soul. Mrs. McDonnell had helped him turn that passion into his life’s path.

  Alex pushed the memories to the back of his mind as he parked in the driveway and got out, not surprised when Coach met him on the front porch. They exchanged hugs, and then Coach gestured to the rocking chairs. “It’s a nice day. Let’s sit.”

  The creak of the wooden rocker under his weight, in the shade of the farmer’s porch, felt like home to Alex. “It feels really good to be back here.”

  “I was surprised when Kelly told me you were coming back,” Coach said. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you boys again, and then Chase decided to live here, and now you.”

  Chase Sanders, former Eagles running back, had made his decision because he fell in love with the coach’s daughter, and once he tied up all his business in New Jersey, he’d move to Stewart Mills for good. “For a little while, anyway. But when I do leave, I won’t go another fourteen years without visiting.”

  “Good. I’ve missed you boys over the years. Thought about you all the time, wondering how you were.”

  Alex accepted the guilt and sense of shame because he’d earned them. “I thought about you, too, Coach. I’m sorry so many years passed.”

  “I did my best to help you boys become strong men who could go out and be successful. I feel nothing but pride that you all did that, son. And you were here when I needed you. Can’t ask for more than that.”

  “You have no idea how glad I am that I came. And I’m glad it worked out for the team, too. Tryouts are Saturday, huh?”

  “Yup.” Coach rocked back in his chair and got straight to the point in his usual way. “I’ve met with all the parents and there are a few ground rules for you being around the boys.”

  “Okay.” Alex had expected that. He’d even worked with the school and police department by email before he arrived, giving them the info they needed for their mandatory background check.

  “The parents are going to worry when it comes to what’s said about their kids for possibly the whole world to read, but everybody agrees it’s not practical for you to get every word approved by every parent. So anything to do with football gets run by me. If the boys open up to you and start telling you personal things, I want that stuff brought to Jen Cooper. She’ll decide whether or not to bring the parents into it.”

  It was going to be a royal pain in the ass and make the entire project longer than it needed to be, but Alex had known going in that it wouldn’t be easy. While he wanted to encompass the town itself, the primary focus of the work would be an entire team of minors. “Okay.”

  Coach leaned forward, pinning him with a look that Alex remembered well from his youth. “I don’t know much about the legal aspects of journalism or book writing as far as what your rights are. Maybe there is no such thing as off the record. But I vouched for you with every single parent so, if you agree to those terms, I personally want your word on it. Between you and me, son.”

  Alex and the other guys had learned early and well that giving your word to Coach McDonnell wasn’t something done lightly. No matter how rough things were in life, honoring your word was something that couldn’t be taken from you.

  “You have my word, Coach. I won’t do anything that hurts those boys, or casts anybody in a negative light.” He leaned across the gap between the chairs and shook Coach’s hand.

  “That’s settled, then. Tryouts start at nine. So how are things going for you at the Walker farm? You settling in okay there?”

  Unbidden, an image of Gretchen in silly flannel sleep pants with cows on them filled Alex’s mind. They were pink, and the black-and-white cows were wearing pink shoes and straw hats with pink bows. They were fun and silly, and he’d bet anything they were a gift. They didn’t seem like the kind of thing Gretchen would buy for herself, but she definitely loved them. The flannel was soft and worn, and often washed, judging by how faded they were.

  The cute cows had almost—though not quite—managed to distract Alex from the fact that Gretchen looked hot as hell in a tank top with sleep-tousled hair. It had been only seconds before she’d covered her chest with the bundle of clothes she was carrying, but it was long enough to leave Alex with the memory of firm, round breasts and well-toned arms.

  “Hey.”

  Coach’s voice broke into thoughts that were going nowhere good, and Alex shifted in his rocker. “Sorry. Lost my train of thought. Everything’s good at the farm. Gretchen’s a bit of a tough nut, but Ida’s a wonderful lady.”

  “So she’s Ida, but I’m still Mrs. McDonnell?”

  Alex immediately jumped to his feet. He hadn’t heard the coach’s wife step outside. “Hey, Mrs. McDonnell! I was going to come in and say hi
but we got to talking.”

  When he crossed the porch to her, she hugged him and kissed his cheek. “You do know you can call me Helen, right?”

  “It just doesn’t feel right,” he admitted. He knew the other guys felt the same way, and although they sometimes called her Mrs. McD, calling her by her first name just felt wrong.

  “I’d ask if you had breakfast, but I know Ida, so I won’t bother. Would you like a coffee or juice or something?”

  “No, thank you. And you’re not kidding about Ida. I’ve eaten more in the last two meals than I had in the entire week before.”

  “And both of them thin as rails. Must be nice to be blessed with the Walker metabolism,” Mrs. McDonnell said with good humor.

  Alex didn’t think Gretchen was thin as a rail at all, considering the delicious curves of her breasts and backside, but that wasn’t a conversation he was going to have with anybody, never mind Coach and his wife.

  Mrs. McDonnell touched his shoulder affectionately before opening the screen door. “I’ll leave you two to talk. Give a shout if you need anything.”

  Once he was back in the rocker, Alex leaned back and blew out a breath. “You guys know what a special place this porch is, right?”

  Coach laughed, nodding his head. “We do. But it’s not the porch, son. It’s the people who come and sit on it.”

  Alex couldn’t argue with that. Instead, they talked football for a while and watched the occasional car go by. The library research beckoned and he needed a few things at the market, but they could wait.

  For now he was content to sit and rebuild a connection he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having in his life.

  04

  Gretchen wasn’t surprised to see the Stewart Mills Police Department’s SUV drive up shortly before noon. Because Kelly had helped facilitate Alex’s moving into the house, she’d want to stop by and make sure everything was going okay. Or she’d talked to Jen and wanted to tease Gretchen about her new tenant’s possibly weird proclivities.