Defending Hearts

by Shannon Stacey

  “Wow.” It was all she could say.

  “That’s what I see when I look at you,” he said, and she realized just how close he was to her.

  She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I don’t understand how you do that. I don’t think most people see that when they look at me. But you can get a camera to see . . . It’s like the soul of me in that picture. How do you do that?”

  His dark eyes crinkled when he grinned. “I’d tell you, but then everybody would be a photographer. It’s kind of like your grandmother’s macaroni salad, I guess. If everybody knows how it’s done, it’s not really special.”

  “That’s not really a comparison. What you do is a gift.”

  “So is Ida’s macaroni salad.”

  She started to laugh, but then he reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re incredibly beautiful, Gretchen, and being able to capture what you feel about this place so you can see it, too, is definitely a gift.”

  He was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. And right here and now, in the warm summer evening with the light fading, she couldn’t think of a single reason it would be a bad idea.

  Alex ran his fingertip over her lips and down her chin, making her shiver. “If I kiss you, are you going to be all prickly about it later?”

  “Probably.”

  “Should I let that stop me?”

  Gretchen rested her hand at his waist and shook her head. “I’ll probably be prickly about something later, whether you kiss me or not, so we might as well enjoy this moment while it lasts.”

  He stepped across her legs with his left foot, so she was between the pickup and his body, and ran his hand down the length of her braid. Then he cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Her eyelids slid closed as their lips met, and she sighed as their breath mingled. His thumb pressed against her cheekbone as he kissed her, and she let go of his waist to run her hand up his arm, from the camera he held and over his strong biceps to his shoulder. She’d wanted to touch those shoulders for a long time, and she dug her fingertips into the muscle as his tongue dipped between her lips.

  Kissing Alex was everything she’d imagined it to be during those restless nights when sleep didn’t come right away. She cradled his neck between her hands, her fingernails brushing his hairline, and nipped at his bottom lip.

  He made a low growling sound and moved closer, so his body pressed hers up against the truck. The kiss grew more urgent and she felt breathless as his tongue danced over hers. She ran her hands down his chest to his waist, wanting to pull his T-shirt up and feel his bare skin.

  Then she heard the barking. Through the haze of want and need, Gretchen heard Cocoa’s excited greeting, and Alex must have, too. One more heated, frustrated kiss against her mouth and then he lifted his head.

  “She found us.”

  Gretchen didn’t have the ability to make coherent words yet, so she just nodded as Alex pushed back from the truck and untangled their legs. Once he moved, she could see Cocoa barreling joyfully toward them, her tongue hanging out as she ran.

  She went to Gretchen first, jumping up on her so Gretchen could give her a neck rub. Then she went to Alex and sat at his feet. As the frustration eased from Alex’s face to be replaced by affection for the dog with the poor timing, Cocoa barked once and lifted her paw for a high five.

  08

  Alex stared at the ceiling, and only the fact that the light had changed let him know he must have slept at some point. He’d been staring at the ceiling in the dark, thinking about the feel of Gretchen’s mouth, and now he was staring at the ceiling in the dim light of dawn.

  That kiss had rocked his world. There was no other way to say it. He’d wanted her before, but he’d wanted other women in his past. But then he’d kissed her and it had been different. From the minute Cocoa barked and interrupted the kiss, he’d thought of nothing else. And he had no doubt if not for the canine interruption, he would have been more than happy to make love to her right there on the ground, in the middle of her pumpkin patch.

  And she’d been thinking about it, too, he knew when they all sat down to breakfast forty minutes later. Gretchen was quieter than usual, and was doing everything but turning her chair around to avoid meeting his eyes. But a few times, when she thought he wasn’t looking, he caught her staring at his mouth.

  The tension was so thick between them, he was almost relieved when she practically ran out of the kitchen to do her morning chores. Ida was either oblivious or was pretending to be, keeping up a constant stream of chatter.

  He made his own escape at the first opportunity. Before a midmorning meeting with Dylan Clark, the youngest member of the Stewart Mills Police Department, Alex needed to do a few errands. Maybe not enough to fill the time, but it beat engaging in a game of evasion with Gretchen.

  First up was the gas station, where he filled up the Jeep before pulling it into a parking spot. It was going to take a lot more coffee to get through this day after the night he’d had, so he went inside to get a cup.

  “Hey, Janie,” he said when he saw the woman behind the counter, before making a beeline to the industrial coffeemaker on the back counter. He didn’t even care how long it had been sitting there. The stronger, the better, as far as he was concerned.

  Chase had dated Janie Vestal in high school, so she and Alex knew each other well. She’d been a cheerleader in addition to being one of his best friends’ girlfriends, but they’d lost touch when they went off to college, as Alex had with everybody from Stewart Mills. She was married with a couple of kids now.

  “How’s your project going?” She took his money for the coffee and handed him his change.

  Even though he hadn’t talked to her about it yet, Alex wasn’t surprised she knew about it. There was no doubt in his mind everybody knew about it. “Okay, so far. Mostly I’ve been concentrating on the football team, though I’ve done a little digging into the town’s history.”

  “It’s been rough for everybody since the mills closed. I keep hearing rumors of a buyer, but so far nothing’s been in the news. I figure if it’s not in the news, it’s not worth getting excited about.”

  “I really hope the rumors turn out to be true,” he said, and he meant it. The mills reopening, no matter what the production was, would be a huge boost for the town.

  “People are starting to get their feet back under them a little, I guess. You can kind of tell how the town’s doing by how much cheap beer we sell and how bad the shoplifting is.”

  “Got pretty bad for a while, huh?”

  Janie nodded. “We even had a girl shoplifting, uh . . . feminine products here recently. Almost broke my heart. And, no, I’m not going to tell you who it was.”

  Alex frowned at her. “The last thing I’d ever do is humiliate a child. You know me better than that. Even if I didn’t hold myself to a higher ethical and moral standard than that, Coach would hand me my ass if I tried that.”

  That made her laugh. “Wouldn’t be the first time he had to keep you in line.”

  “And thank God for that.” He chatted with her for a few more minutes, and then went back to his Jeep. Rather than sit in the parking lot and drink the coffee, he found a place to park on the street and walked through the town square to the picnic table.

  With autumn breathing down their necks, the mornings and evenings were markedly chilly, but Alex didn’t mind. He actually enjoyed experiencing the transition of seasons, especially in New England, which he rarely got to enjoy because of his travel schedule. Cold started the day, until the sun warmed the air and everybody started removing layers of clothes. Then the temperature would drop again as the sun went down.

  He was just finishing his coffee when he heard voices. Swiveling on the bench seat, he saw a couple of guys walking in his direction. He didn’t think they’d even noticed him yet, and they were l
aughing and tossing a football back and forth between them. PJ, the cornerback who never seemed to shut up, was telling Paul Decker a story as they walked.

  Deck had been on the defensive side of the ball, same as Alex, back during their glory days, and he hadn’t worked quite as hard keeping the post-football weight off. He was happy, though, and married with a couple of sons. And it looked like he’d been spending more time with boys on the current team, too, since Eagles Fest. He should probably set up a time to talk to Deck and maybe to his wife, to get some quotes. Unlike many of them, Deck had never moved away from Stewart Mills.

  “Think fast, Murphy.”

  Alex dropped the cardboard cup just in time to catch the football Deck threw and keep it from bouncing off the side of his head. “What the hell?”

  “Nice reflexes,” PJ said, grinning.

  “It’s a good thing that cup was empty or I’d kick both your asses right now.”

  PJ snorted. “Maybe Deck’s, but I played against you in the exhibition game, remember? I’m pretty sure you can’t catch me.”

  “Maybe not,” Alex muttered. “But you have to show up for practice at some point and then I’ll know where you are.”

  The kid knew he was just yanking his chain, so he laughed and grabbed the football away from Alex. “I have to get to my job and make some money before school starts. Thanks for the talk, Deck.”

  “Anytime, PJ.”

  Once the kid had walked off, Deck sat on the bench opposite Alex and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Not too many nice days left before it’s cold.”

  “Nope. What were you and the kid up to?”

  “I was changing a tire when he walked by, and we got to talking. We were in the middle of the conversation but he has to work, so I walked with him a ways. He’s doing pretty good. They’re all doing better.”

  “Coach told me you’ve been spending some time with them since Eagles Fest.”

  “When I can, which isn’t as much as I’d like. I’ve got a business to run and boys of my own, but they all know they can stop by the garage anytime. Sometimes they sit on a tire and talk to me while I work.”

  Deck owned Decker’s Wreckers, a name that made Alex chuckle every time he saw the sign. “I’d like to talk to you and Cheryl sometime. Maybe invite myself over for meatballs and get a few stories out of you.”

  He laughed. “The meatballs we can do. The stories? We’ll see. Cheryl and I were talking about your book project and, it’s like she said. There aren’t any secrets in this town, but we keep things in this town. I’ve known you my whole life, but in a lot of ways you’re not really from here anymore. No offense.”

  “None taken.” He couldn’t really take offense at the truth. “Stories or no stories, I still want the meatballs.”

  “I’ll let Cheryl know and get in touch. Although we know you’re not suffering a lack of food out there on the Walker farm. Ida’s cooking is no joke.”

  “No shit. I’m kind of glad they don’t seem to own a bathroom scale. But even Ida concedes nobody makes meatballs like Cheryl. I remember them from the fund-raiser dinner, and I have to agree.”

  “Gretchen got you tending pumpkins yet?”

  Alex felt a jolt at hearing her name after he’d done such a good job of not thinking about her for at least a half hour. Picking up the empty cup he’d dropped just to have something to do with his hands and to look at, he shook his head. “She’s pretty stubborn and doesn’t accept a lot of help. And she’s got this hair across her ass about me paying rent, so I have to be treated differently.”

  “She can be stubborn, that’s for damn sure.”

  Not wanting to go any further down any conversational path leading to Gretchen, Alex pulled out his phone to look at the time. “I should run. I’m meeting Dylan Clark to dig a little deeper into how a guy who’s not from around here feels about the community and what they did for Eagles Fest.”

  “He’s a good guy. Good cop.” Deck sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “I need to get back to the garage, anyway.”

  They shook hands and then Alex tossed his cup in the garbage barrel before heading back to the Jeep. He’d do his interview with the police officer and then stop at the post office to ship some sweater sets Ida had packaged up.

  He’d manage to burn the rest of the day off in town somehow—maybe take some more pictures—but eventually he’d have to make his way back to the farm. Then he’d see Gretchen and that would lead to thinking about kissing her again.

  At least in the Walker house, taking cold showers was never a problem.

  —

  Gretchen was hiding in the hayloft. She knew it was stupid and that she’d have to go into the house eventually, but she couldn’t stop her damn face from feeling hot and flushed every time she thought about that kiss in the pumpkin patch.

  And she couldn’t stop thinking about that damn kiss.

  She didn’t know how to do this. Kisses were supposed to be just kisses. They were like the foreplay to foreplay. But not Alex’s kiss. Just the memory of his mouth on hers made her want to dance around the hayloft with a broom, with bluebirds flying around her head, whistling a happy tune.

  She didn’t dance, of course. Other than the awkward middle school shuffle at the one school dance she’d ever gone to, Gretchen hadn’t danced in her life. But his kiss hadn’t been like any other she’d ever had. If not for the dog, she might have shoved Alex up against the side of the truck and had her way with him.

  And that thought certainly didn’t help her hot, flushed cheeks problem.

  Pulling out her phone, she decided to ask for advice, but whom to ask? Kelly would have been her first choice, because she’d recently gone through the whole first-kiss thing with Chase, but she was rather disgustingly in love and wanted everybody else to be in love, too. Jen would be more practical about the whole thing, because she certainly wasn’t in love with anybody at the moment.

  That’s what Gretchen needed. Advice on what to do about kisses that made you feel like a cartoon princess if you were trying not to fall in love.

  Jen answered on the third ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Not much.” Just hiding in the hayloft from the man who lived in her house. “You busy?”

  “Not any more than usual. You okay?”

  “Alex kissed me last night.”

  “Okay.” There was a long moment of silence. “I swear, it’s hard enough to guess your mood in person, but by your voice? Forget it. Is this a yay, Alex kissed me call or an oh crap, Alex kissed me call?”

  Gretchen laughed at the way her friend exaggerated the cheerfulness of the former and the dread in the latter. “I don’t know. What I do know is that every time I think about the kiss, I blush, so I’m hiding in the barn.”

  “So . . . you need me to bring you supplies?”

  “Smart-ass. I need you to tell me how I’m supposed to live with a man who kissed me, but I’m not supposed to have sex with.”

  Jen sighed. “There’s no supposed to or not supposed to. Did you like the kiss? I mean, do you want to have sex with the guy?”

  “I let him open a jar of pickles for me,” Gretchen admitted, feeling even more like an idiot than she had before she called Jen.

  “Wow. Okay, so you want him. He wants you, or he wouldn’t have kissed you in a way that has you hiding in your barn. Tell me what the problem is, and don’t give me any crap about him being a boarder.”

  “That might be all I have.” Or it might be all she was willing to admit to. She didn’t want to poke too much at the mass of conflicted feelings she was having about Alex. The fact that there were feelings at all was the problem.

  “I don’t even know what to say. I don’t remember you ever being like this, even when we were teenagers and you’re supposed to be a hot mess of hormones.”

  “I should have called Kel
ly.”

  “She would have given you a dreamy sigh and asked if you want to have a double wedding.”

  Gretchen laughed. “She’s not quite that bad.”

  “You have to go in the house. The food and coffee is in there.”

  “Good point. I was willing to fast if necessary, but coffee’s a deal breaker.” Gretchen heard Cocoa bark out in the yard and knew her solitude was about to come to an end. “How do I not think about the kiss?”

  “If you start to think about the kiss, think about something else instead. Like . . . I don’t know. Taxes or something. Something that doesn’t make you want to have sex.”

  “Taxes aren’t sexy.”

  “There you go.”

  “I think Gram’s calling me, so I have to come out of hiding now. Thanks for the talk.”

  “Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes.”

  Gretchen said she would, though she wasn’t about to get in the habit of calling her friends with daily status updates. Then she climbed out of the hayloft and tried to brace herself for the deluge of tax-related thoughts she was probably going to have to suffer through before she could reasonably escape to her room. Even if she claimed a headache, which she never did, she had to at least eat supper first. She was hungry.

  As soon as she stepped out of the barn, Cocoa spotted her. With a joyous bark, she ran to her, which of course alerted Gram to her location.

  “There you are,” she said. “I was looking all over for you.”

  “Sorry. I was up in the hayloft.” Great. She had no excuse for being up there that didn’t involve hiding.

  “It’s time to eat,” Gram said, not digging any further.

  Alex was just setting the salad bowl on the table when they walked in, and Gretchen did a quick calculation of how many weeks she had left before the tax bill came. Then she looked directly at him and smiled. “Hi, Alex.”

  “How was your day?”

  Confusing and restless and, now, slightly awkward. “It was fine, thanks.”