Her parents continued making out.
“Grace?” It was a whisper that didn’t disturb the love bunnies.
“Yes?” She sensed when he moved closer, the heat from his skin touching hers.
“Why don’t you greet me like that?”
Her eyes shot up as did her eyebrows, head and heart rate. “Why did you kiss me last night?”
Owen grinned at her. “Foreplay.”
Grace tried to give him a disapproving look, but she was pretty sure she failed. Owen’s smile only grew broader and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t start,” she said.
His fingers traced the curve of her neck. “Too late.”
She feared he was right.
Thank God her parents were still too wrapped up in each other to hear. Not because she was concerned that their delicate ears couldn’t handle hearing that their baby girl might be sexually active. Hello? They’d been known to skip lunch for a quickie in the bedroom. But her parents—really, her mother—would try to help her.
Her mother would suggest they spend the afternoon somewhere private, then produce a bottle of wine made from the small vineyard on the property before slipping some condoms to them. As if Grace wasn’t old enough or smart enough to carry nonexpired ones on her at all times. The previous box had gone into the garbage without a single one being used. The whole thing would end up being the opposite of sexy.
Unlike the way Owen’s fingers were still playing along her neck, across her collarbone and back up to her shoulder. Grace shivered and reminded herself of all the reasons why she should take a step back. He was a client, she didn’t know him well, he wasn’t husband material, she wasn’t putting a focus on her personal life until next year, her parents were in the room. And the one big reason she stayed exactly where she was: she wanted to.
* * *
OWEN WATCHED GRACE during dinner. Watched her before and after dinner, too. She wasn’t the same here, under her parents’ roof. In some ways, she was wound more tightly, quick to do the opposite of what her mother suggested and often with her lips pressed firmly together. But in other ways, she was softer. She wore jeans with dirt on the knees to dinner and when she looked at him, there was desire in her eyes. And she’d asked why he’d kissed her. A question he planned to answer tonight.
Sparrow had decided they should eat dinner outside, serving up chicken from the barbecue and salads made from what grew in her garden. The meal was rustic and filling. Entirely different from how he ate in the city, but it fit. They’d worked hard all day. Sparrow had put him to work hoeing a new row for more tomato plants while she chatted away.
The labor was hard. Harder than walking the floor of Elephants all night and dealing with a legion of drunk frat boys. But satisfying. He could see why his father, who’d recently taken up gardening post–heart attack, found it therapeutic. Though he wasn’t sure he’d mention it when he got home. Not unless he wanted to be corralled into hoeing on a regular basis.
Owen was aware he spent too much time at work these days, in an effort to prove his newfound reliability, but he wasn’t sure digging and planting were the kind of life balance he was looking for.
Grace’s parents had a fire pit at the back of the property and once the dishes were put away, they brought out wine made from their own grapes and sat around the flames. Sparrow tried to start some singing, but Cedar said he preferred listening to the sounds of nature. One of the few things he said.
Owen also enjoyed the quiet. The lick of flames on wood, the whisper of wind through the trees that dotted the open backyard, the hum of insects as they came alive with the night.
It wasn’t full dark—was barely dusk—but work started at five tomorrow morning. Though Grace, Owen and a newly pregnant Laurel had been told they could sleep in. Owen chatted with Laurel while Grace caught up with her brother. Laurel had done a fair bit of traveling and the two of them had seen many of the same places.
It was only nine when Sparrow stretched and announced that she was going to bed. Cedar went with her and Sky and Laurel weren’t far behind.
Owen pulled out the wine bottle, cooling in a small hole Sparrow dug in the ground, and offered it to Grace.
She looked at her half-empty glass and sighed. “I shouldn’t.” But she held her glass toward him.
He topped up both glasses, then took a seat beside her. The chairs had been carved from wood by Cedar and were surprisingly comfortable, sanded to be soft to the touch and shaped to provide back support.
“My parents would love a pair of these for their backyard.” He ran a hand across the seat, which held the warmth of the day’s sun. They’d make a great gift. “Do they sell them?”
Grace shook her head. “That would be working for ‘the man.’” She air-quoted the last two words. “Sparrow and Cedar try to keep their distance from authority organizations. They only give the chairs as gifts.”
“Could I barter for them?”
“You could try, but...” She shrugged and sipped her wine.
“But they’d turn me down.” Too bad. They were gorgeous pieces And Owen knew they’d sell for big money in the city.
“They turn down most people. Although you seem to be a pretty big hit.”
Owen felt a prickle of pride. “Because your mother thinks we’re dating.” He found he liked the idea quite a lot himself. Not a date, but dating, ongoing. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way, but it definitely wasn’t his usual MO, either. He leaned toward Grace, watching the way the fire turned her skin a delicate shade of gold. “Do you know she tried to slip me a condom this afternoon?” At first, he’d been embarrassed, wanting to assure Sparrow that she didn’t need to worry about something happening in her home, but then he’d realized that if she wasn’t embarrassed he shouldn’t be, either.
“Oh, God.” Grace closed her eyes and took a gulp of wine. “I apologize on her behalf.”
“She just wants to keep you safe and healthy.”
“No, she just likes sticking her nose in my business, which is why I don’t visit very often.”
Owen didn’t think that was the only reason, but he kept that observation to himself. Grace didn’t seem to recognize how much she was actually like her mother. Not on the surface—Grace with her sleek style and city life and Sparrow with her flyaway hair and commitment to farming—but beneath everything, they were the same. They believed in family and the truth of their own opinions. And they were willing to fight for what they wanted, even if it was with each other.
“I like them,” Owen said, placing his own wineglass down next to his chair. They were very different from his family and their day-to-day life reflected that, but they shared similar core values. Owen was confident that if Grace or Sky were ever in need, Sparrow and Cedar would drop everything to help, and he thought Grace and Sky would do the same for their parents.
“Well, sure. My mom gave you condoms and basically a free pass to sleep with me.” Grace stared at the fire. “But don’t get too excited—you’re not the first.”
Owen blinked. “I’m not?”
“Oh, no. She did the same thing to my high school boyfriend.”
“I bet that made you popular.”
She looked at him and frowned, her eyebrows slanted together. “I didn’t sleep with him. I have no idea what he did or didn’t do with the condoms, but they were never put into action with me.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Now he felt like a tool. “I was just thinking that your friends would have liked the fact that she didn’t hide from the realities of teen life.” He’d lost his virginity at sixteen with Mara Lennox. Sweet, sweet Mara with her dark curls and skin permanently tanned from trips to Anguilla and St. Barts. She’d smelled like coconut.
“They weren’t my reality.” She folded her arms around her waist, pro
tecting herself. “It was humiliating because, of course, he told everyone. And then my mother tried to start a program at school to have condoms available at the office and in classrooms.”
“Did she succeed?”
“Yes.”
“Wish she’d been at my school.” He saw some of the tension leave Grace’s face and continued. “You don’t know how good you had it. We had to buy our own condoms. The trick was to buy a bunch of other things with it. Car magazines, chips, a newspaper to put on top, as though that would fool the clerk.”
“Okay, but your mom wasn’t known as the Condom Lady.” Grace shook her head, but a smile peeked through on her lips. “They called Sky and me the Condom Kids.”
“Condom Crew would have been better. You could have tossed them out like confetti.”
Her smile was more than peeking through now. “I really don’t think you understand the seriousness of this. The scarring I still have.”
“I do see.” He shifted his chair a little closer to hers, but stopped there. Much like last night, he wanted to drive her to the point where she admitted she wanted him. Pushing too far, too fast, would cause a knee-jerk reaction and he already knew that line by heart. “Clearly, you underwent great personal suffering. Really, I’m amazed you’re a functional adult at all.”
“I know. The trials and indignities of my youth were quite something.” Her smile was out-of-this-world and damn, did it look good.
Owen patted her knee and left his hand there, waiting to see what Grace would do. She looked down at it, then back at him, but she didn’t move it and although her smile faded, it didn’t disappear. Promising. He let the connection linger another moment and then sat back. “So, tell me just how you managed to survive your high school years.”
She glanced down at her knee again and then up. Owen wasn’t even sure she realized she’d done it, but he did. And he knew what it meant. She’d liked it and was likely open to more. Very promising.
They stayed on the back patio until the wine was gone and the sky was fully dark. Grace shivered in the cool temperature. Owen wanted to put his arm around her or offer her a warm lap to sit on, but she spoke first. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Disappointment swept through him, but he did his best to hide it with a manful nod. He watched her stand and stretch, the way her shirt clung to her body and then didn’t. “I’ll walk you in.”
“You’re staying in the house, too.”
“Yes, but I can still be a gentleman.” He offered her his arm.
Grace smiled and placed her hand on his elbow. Her scent wafted around him. He wanted to tug her closer until their bodies touched more places than just hand and elbow. Instead, they walked inside and up the stairs.
Owen stopped and turned to face her when they reached her bedroom door. She was breathing faster. Or maybe that was just him. Eager for another kiss.
She swallowed. “Well, I guess this is good-night.”
It didn’t have to be. He reached out to cup her face, both felt and heard her short intake of breath. “No, Grace.” He leaned forward until their lips were nearly touching. “This is good-night.”
And then he kissed her until there was no question that she was breathing hard.
CHAPTER NINE
HOW WAS IT possible that although she’d spent the day in the sun doing manual labor, she was even less able to find a comfortable spot to sleep in?
Grace tossed around, but it didn’t help. Clearly, this was all Owen’s fault. Why had he kissed her again? Why had she let him? But even as she thought it, she knew why. She’d liked it. She’d wanted it. He was all wrong for her on all levels and she wanted him.
She rolled over and grabbed her phone, opening her inbox and scrolling through her messages, but it was a sad attempt to distract herself and worked no longer than a few minutes.
Grace put the phone back on the nightstand. She could lie here staring at the ceiling or the screen on her cell all night. Again. Or she could try something else. She was out of the bed before she’d even finished considering her options.
The air was cool on her bare legs, but Grace didn’t feel like putting her jeans on under her nightgown. Who was going to see her? Her parents had gone to bed hours ago and slept heavily. Sky and Laurel were in the small guesthouse on the other side of the property and Owen would probably be conked out now, too.
She grabbed a kimono-style robe from the closet. One her mother had bought for her more than a decade ago. It still fit, though Grace thought she filled it out a little better now. Why that mattered, since nobody was going to see her, she didn’t know. She tied the belt around her waist, slipped on her sandals and quietly made her way down the stairs and out of the house.
The sounds of the night struck her as she shut the door. The hum of insects, croaking of toads and the occasional hoot of an owl. The same species existed in the city, but she didn’t hear them over the buzz of city life. Oddly, Grace found she’d missed it. Not that she could mention it to her mother. Sparrow would get excited and think it meant Grace was considering giving up her urban life to return to the farm. That or she’d consider it permission to bombard Grace with even more lectures about the health benefits of living in a rural environment. Lectures that were based on nothing more than Sparrow’s own biased observances.
Grace hurried away from the house and across the yard, the dew already collecting on the grass and leaving droplets on her toes. But Grace knew where she was going and there were towels.
It took only a couple of minutes to reach her destination. Sparrow and Cedar referred to it alternatively as Meditation Manse or Abode au Naturel depending on what they were using it for, but the small one-room, one-bathroom building on the farm had always been a place of privacy for Grace. A place of privacy with a king-size bed.
The abode was open. Her parents never locked anything. Partly because they believed in sharing what one had with those who needed it and partly because they believed that locking something was inviting the universe to break in.
Grace paused with her hand on the door. Although it was dark out, with only the light of the moon to see by, she noted that the murals on the front of the house were new. She could even smell the fresh paint. And there were sculptures on the small porch that hadn’t been there before.
She squinted, trying to determine exactly what they were, and huffed out a laugh when her eyes finally drew the distinction between shadow and light and she found herself staring at a sculpture of a nude woman bending over while a man stroked her from behind. It seemed Sparrow had been redecorating.
Grace pushed open the door, leaving the sculpture behind, and turned on the light. There was an overhead chandelier, made by Sparrow when she’d been in her crystal phase. Last time Grace had been in the abode, the chandelier had been made up of multicolored glass that spread a rainbow effect through the room, but there was no such effect now. And when she checked, she saw the bright colors had been replaced with clear glass for a calm, cool look.
The bedcovers were different, too. Gone were the bright colors that mimicked the old chandelier. In its place was a pale gold brocade with shimmery threads. Grace stopped and stared. With the new white rug, the simple wood tables built by her father and cream-colored walls, the space was downright elegant.
Or as elegant as a space could be with wall art showing scenes from the Kama Sutra and a sex swing in the corner.
But Grace wasn’t really interested in how the space looked, just the privacy it offered. Here, all alone with nothing and no one down the hall, she could decompress and figure out what was going on between her and Owen. After popping into the bathroom to dry her feet, she sat in the oversize chair in the corner of the room that had been recovered in a dark pink material with a sunrise-orange pillow.
The chair had once been covered in old denim, rivets
and all. Grace had to say she found this new version far improved. She kicked off her sandals and curled her feet beneath her before covering herself with the teal blanket hanging over the back. She could have crawled into the bed. The sheets would be clean and she knew it was comfortable, but Grace didn’t want to fall asleep. Not yet.
Not until she figured out her next step with Owen. Trying to keep things professional wasn’t working. He seemed to insert himself into her life whether she wanted him to or not. Except that wasn’t really fair. She certainly hadn’t tried very hard to dissuade him from joining her this weekend, her attempt to say otherwise on the ferry ride notwithstanding. But letting him even deeper into her life? Well, that way lay danger, as evidenced by the kissing and the not sleeping and the thinking in the abode.
Which meant... She let her head fall back against the chair. Which meant she should probably remove him from her life altogether. Of course, she’d still have to see him at the wedding, but that was work.
Grace exhaled. She could create a file in her laptop, take note of all the reasons for and against and finalize a clean plan of action, but she didn’t need to. She already knew the answer; she just didn’t like it.
A small thunk had her head lifting, followed by a knock on the door that set her heart racing. This was the abode. It was meant for privacy. People didn’t knock. Unless they didn’t know what the abode was for.
She pushed herself out of the chair and padded across the floor to open the door. The interior light flooded out, illuminating a smiling Owen. “Hi.”
He wasn’t supposed to be out here. She should send him back to the house. Instead, she pushed the door open wider. “Did you follow me?”
Owen nodded and stepped inside. He moved to close the door and then stopped as the light landed on the new outdoor sculptures. “Is that a man and a—”
“Yes.” Grace reached around him to shut the door. “And I’d prefer not to talk about it.”
Ever easygoing, Owen simply shrugged and moved farther into the room. “What about the art?” He gestured to the framed line drawings. Although they were simple strokes of black paint on white paper, sex breathed from them. “Can we talk about those?”
One More Night Page 13