by Betty Bolte
Zak gaped at him for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I never finished making the Elixir of Life, so it couldn’t have been that wild idea of mine.”
“It was pretty far-fetched to think some alchemist held the answer.” Grant swigged another swallow. “I need to know what cured me. Not just for my benefit, but for the others who suffer from the disease. Any ideas of where I should search?”
Paulette stared at him, mouth slightly open. She blinked several times without speaking. She glanced at Zak and then met Grant’s gaze. What had he said to cause such a curious reaction? As though she withheld some important information from him. A frown settled on his brows as he pondered the surprise and consternation evident in her expression. She turned to look at her husband and then at her tea mug. Raising her gaze once more to meet his, she shrugged.
Zak cleared his throat to draw Grant’s attention back to his placid countenance. “I hope you find the answer you’re searching for. How long do you plan to stay?”
As long as it took. Or until Zak threw him out. “Through Thanksgiving, if that’s okay?”
Another exchanged glance and then matching smiling faces regarded him. As if they shared a secret he wasn’t privy to. What was up with them?
“Sounds good.” Zak gave a last squeeze to Paulette’s shoulder and then pushed to his feet. He held out a hand to her, palm up in invitation. “Shall we get ready for this evening?”
“Definitely.” Paulette placed her hand in his and stood, setting her mug on the tray in one fluid motion. “I hope you enjoy yourself tonight, Grant. Those three sure know how to keep life interesting.”
A hint of relief in her voice made him peer at her, inspecting her expression for some hidden meaning. Detecting nothing but a pleasant smile and steady gaze, he mentally shrugged away his suspicions.
“I’ll try to enjoy being surrounded by beautiful women, though I’d prefer to not impose on them.” Taking the last swig from the bottle, he placed it on the tray and wiped his damp hand on his jeans. “Then tomorrow I’ll continue my search for answers in earnest.”
Chapter 3
Edna’s Grocery bustled with customers in the late afternoon, the parking lot a steady stream of cars and pickup trucks coming and going. Tara strolled along the sidewalk, pulling a small wagon rattling over the seams and cracks as she made her way to pick up the ingredients for dinner. Since most of what she needed was perishable, she didn’t buy them until the day she would use them to have them at their freshest. Mulling the possibilities, she left the red wagon by the soda machines and grabbed a grocery cart. She had two hours until everyone would converge upon her, expecting a delicious dinner. She had an abundance of time, and yet she hurried inside as though chased by demons. Cooking demons.
Gripping the plastic handle of the metal cart, she strode to the produce section. Tomatoes, lettuce, avocado. She quickly snatched up the fresh vegetables and added them to the basket. What else? Ah yes. She turned the cart and headed to the international foods aisle, scanning the shelves for what she needed.
“Tara?” Grant’s voice sounded behind her. “Is that you?”
Stopping, she looked over her shoulder and then angled her body to watch him approach. Goodness. How had she forgotten how ruggedly handsome he was? His lithe, easy gait carried him to her side in moments. She swallowed, aware of a tingling in her entire body as his gaze skimmed her head to toe and back to meet her nervous regard. What was he doing in the grocery? She was not ready to face him. Not prepared to experience the rush of awareness that overwhelmed her when he stood so close.
A wave of memory swept through her mind. Beginning with the instant she’d met him and sensed the potential for a deep connection with him. Then Paulette’s revelation of his illness and why he’d ventured to the small town. She couldn’t bear the thought of him suffering, so had chosen to heal him without his knowledge. Or anyone else’s. Only, Paulette had guessed and confronted her after Grant had departed for his big city life. She’d hoped he’d stay away and not question the change in his health. What if he had found out what she’d done?
“Grant.” She swallowed again, her voice weak and breathy. Calm. Breathe. She could be an adult and talk with another one. Even if he was the most alluring man on earth. “What brings you to town? I thought you didn’t enjoy the quaintness of Roseville.”
“Small towns have never interested me because too many people know too much about everybody else’s business.” He raised both brows as a smile hinted he recognized just how unsettled she was around him. “I’m only here to do a little sleuthing. Do you mind?”
Mind? Absolutely. “Of course not. How long will you stay?” Really, Tara? How inane and rude can you be? She must restore her composure, her equilibrium, or she’d mortify herself before the man. “I mean, how long will you be able to stay?”
“I’ll leave after Thanksgiving. Head to the city and civilization.” He glanced at the package of taco shells in her hands. “Is that for dinner tonight?”
Placing the box in the cart, she reached for a second one and added it to the growing pile. “Taco dinner is one of the few meals I can usually fix without incident.”
Grant chuckled and rested his hands on the metal frame of the cart. “Sounds like you don’t much enjoy cooking.”
“We take turns, so I only have to do it a couple times a week.” She shrugged and pushed the basket into motion, forcing Grant to straighten and walk beside her. Dawdling would limit the time she had to chop and dice and, worse, prolong the amount of time she’d be alone with him. “Simple fare is my specialty.”
She paused to select bottles of mild and medium taco sauce and placed them into the basket. Pushing on, she slowed her pace when she saw a sudden roadblock ahead in the form of a mini family reunion. Annoyance shot through her. She needed to finish her shopping and retreat to her home, away from this man until her sisters could provide a buffer of sorts. His presence shook her to the core with awareness and longing. Beth had already as much as claimed him. As such, Tara wouldn’t interfere with her older sister’s choice. But that meant Tara must defend herself from his nearness.
“What kind of meat will you cook tonight?” He shot a sideways look her direction and then focused on the aisle ahead of them where the boisterous family had blocked their way.
She paused, waiting for the small group of animated people to notice her and Grant, and then with a word of thanks, she continued. Turning into the condiments aisle, she picked up the pace, skimming the bottles and cans of olives and pickles until spotting what she searched for. She selected a small can of sliced black olives and a can of sliced jalapenos. “Do you have a preference?”
Grant shook his head, watching her drop the cans into the cart. “What do you usually fix?”
She spun the cart around to head up the aisle toward the meat counter. Grant fell in beside her, much like a married couple. Whoa. Get a grip. She might be in a market but not in the market for a husband. And definitely not Grant. So stand down, libido, because the man beside her, no matter how lovely to look at and how smart, was not for her.
“Lean ground beef or chicken, most often. Sometimes I use steamed shrimp, but only when I’m feeling fancy.”
“You know how to steam shrimp?” Grant tilted his head as he glanced at her. “That’s impressive.”
Her cheeks warmed at the unwarranted compliment, and a flush of pleasure swept through her. She wished. “No, I buy them already cooked.”
“Keeps it simple, like you said, and yet still healthier than red meats.” He smiled at her, taking control of the cart. “You lead, and I’ll follow.”
The brush of his hands on hers as they exchanged places made her gasp. Lordy, but he could stir her desires without a thought or effort on his part. She tamped down on her uncalled-for and unwanted reaction and took a calming breath. Letting it out slowly, she strode ahead of him, well aware of his eyes on her back, or more probably her backside. She sped up, wanting to as quickly
as possible end the uncomfortable ordeal.
“I’m thinking lean beef tonight.” She grabbed up a package of meat and pivoted to lay it in the cart. Her senses reeled when she inhaled his heady cologne. “Now to the dairy section, and then I’ll be all done.”
“After you.” Grant waited for her to start walking, but she hesitated.
“Why are you here?” Tara placed one hand on the frame of the cart and held fast. Her curiosity won over her reluctance. “In Edna’s, I mean?”
He pursed his lips as he glanced away and then returned to contemplate her for two heart beats. “My mother taught me never to tell a lie. The truth is that I saw you park your wagon out front and followed you.”
“You’re stalking me?” She blinked, clutching the basket more tightly. He’d made an effort to follow her, but for what purpose? He didn’t seem the creepy kind of man. More the big, strong, smart, decadent pleasure of a man.
“No, no, no.” He waved off her question with a wink. “I wanted to talk with you, that’s all. Like we’re doing.”
“Why?” She folded her arms over her chest to stop her fingers from visibly trembling. Or reaching out to touch him, feel his hair in her hands. The electric current she knew existed between them. He activated all of her senses much like catnip for a feline. Drawing her toward him even as she pulled away from the attraction.
“Because I enjoyed dancing with you at the Halloween party last month and I wanted to thank you for making me feel so welcome.” He didn’t move, holding onto the handle with a loose grip as she gazed at him.
“You’re welcome. But you could have told me that at dinner tonight.” She sensed a growing unease on Grant’s part and wondered at the cause. “You needn’t follow me around town.”
He shrugged, letting one hand release the cart as a slow smile replaced the cautious regard. “Not even if I enjoy the view?”
Heat washed her cheeks as she slowly shook her head. “Don’t.”
His smile grew as he studied her in silence for a few moments. “Why not?”
“Because…” How could she explain?
A hundred excuses raced through her mind. Each weaker than the last. The reasons she ardently denied her attraction to him remained location and her sister’s prior claim to him. If they found being together pleasant, then why would she deny them? Besides, he lived hundreds of miles from her small town. From her sisters, more to the point. In a big city with all the culture and convenience that implied. He’d made it quite clear he had no desire to live in a backwater place like Roseville. He’d never trade his urban life to live in a quaint, historic town in the south. She couldn’t imagine living surrounded by all the concrete, macadam, and glass. She’d visited big cities and quickly had become distressed by the abundance of people, smells, flashing lights. The noise in particular inundated her senses. Most importantly, her sisters lived in Roseville, so she would also. Until the day she died. No, they were entirely incompatible even if they were drawn to each other.
“Because why?” He continued to look at her with his dreamy eyes searching her face, her eyes.
“Never mind. Let’s go.” She spun, unwilling to share the fact that her desires were at war with the reality that he would leave and break her heart if she entrusted it to him while he visited. Better to let Beth have her shot at him since she had a more adventurous heart than Tara. Beth would likely welcome the chance to escape, a thought that chilled Tara’s heart. Separation from her sisters? She certainly hoped not but unlike Beth, she couldn’t see into the future. Marching the length of the store to the refrigerated section, she could feel the weight of his gaze. Finally, she snatched a container of sour cream and a package of shredded cheddar cheese, tossed them into the basket to avoid contact with him, and hurried toward the checkout.
She needed to keep some bulwark between herself and the man following her. Prevent herself from succumbing to the temptation he represented to her sense of wellbeing. For her own and Beth’s sake.
Grant trailed after her, keeping pace with her frantic flight despite the metal cart rattling behind her. He remained silent except for a light chuckle every few strides. Let him laugh. She needed time and distance from him.
When they reached the checkout line with its black conveyor belt, Tara greeted the clerk and then addressed Grant. “I can manage from here. I’ll see you in a bit at the house. Okay?”
“Actually, can I give you a lift home? I’m not sure where you live.”
“Well…” She noticed the clerk waiting, and started removing items from the basket and slapping them onto the moving belt. All the while her heart raced at the mere idea of being alone with him. In his car. In her home. “Use the GPS on your phone.”
“I’ll stay out of your way.” He held up one hand; two fingers pointed to the ceiling as if he were a Boy Scout. “I promise.”
“I—” She was torn between longing and fear. Between wanting to spend more time with him and the fear he’d break her if she did. She opened her mouth to object, saw the twinkle in his eyes, the gentle smile and then he winked at her. Clever man. Fine. She huffed away her resistance. “Okay.”
Cheeks flaming, she reached for the lettuce only to have his hand bump into hers as he claimed it. Her gaze flew to his, connected for several rapid breaths, and then she grabbed the head of lettuce and put it on the conveyor. Severing the sensation sweeping through her. The clerk’s expression hinted she suspected what had occurred between them, but she merely smiled and continued scanning items with a steady beep, beep, beep.
“Awesome.” Grant handed her the last item, which she carefully removed from his hand. “I’m parked in front of the wine shop.”
She tossed him a look as she handed her credit card to the clerk who regarded her with humor in her eyes. “Why over there?”
“My contribution to dinner.” He pushed the cart through the line so the bagger could place the filled bags into it.
Taking her card, Tara slipped it into her wallet. Noted the last bag had been put into the cart and Grant waited for her to follow him. To his car. Then to her home. She swallowed the lump in her throat and squared her shoulders. She could do this. She hoped.
Chapter 4
Grant leaned on the grocery cart near the automatic door, waiting for Tara to stop staring at him with a hint of doe in the headlights in her eyes. He liked the fact that she reacted to his presence, so much so he’d decided to invite himself to her house earlier than originally planned. It hadn’t been his intention to horn in on her, but hey, he was a man, and he liked what he saw. When they’d danced together, he had been attracted to her but didn’t pursue anything more then because of the prognosis he’d been facing. But with the change in his health, and in his plans for his future, he was ready to explore his options. He had her address, but he needed an excuse to keep her at his side. She intrigued him, not only because she appeared reluctant and nervous in his company, intimating her returned interest despite her self-denial of the attraction she apparently had for him. But also because her eyes fairly glowed when she looked at him, lips slightly parted and oh so tempting.
Tara soon recovered and started walking his direction. He led the way out of Edna’s. Grant strode to his car and popped open the trunk with the key fob button. Metallic rattling sounded behind him as he placed the first bag into the depths of the trunk. He looked over his shoulder, bending a tad sideways to see behind him. Tara stopped with the little wagon in tow.
“Oh good.” Grant straightened and turned to pick up the wagon and then ease it into the trunk alongside the lone grocery sack. “I’m glad you remembered.”
“I could never leave it behind.” Tara lifted a plastic sack from the cart and handed it to him. “In any case, everyone knows it’s mine and would have left it there until I retrieved it.”
“Why a wagon?”
“It’s one I’ve had since I was little, and I like it.” She offered him another sack of groceries. “Why waste it when it has so many memories a
ttached?”
“Good point.” Grant took the bag, pleased at her small startle when his fingers intentionally brushed hers. “Roseville is a nice town, where people look out for one another.”
She gazed up at him with wide eyes for a moment and then glanced away, scanning the area around the grocery store. “I’m surprised you noticed. I didn’t think you cared for Roseville.”
He deposited the bag in the trunk and closed the lid. “Why?”
“You seem more attuned to the urban scene.” She shrugged and followed him to the passenger side of the car.
“The city is where I’ve felt at home.” At least until recent events shed new light on his life. A quick scan of the parking lot showed the difference in locale with the quantity of pickup trucks of varying sizes. The country life seemed to sprout more rednecks than his hometown. Indeed, he found himself appreciating the slower pace and easy-going nature of the people. He pulled open the door and held it for her to slip into the car. “Where I’m from the smaller acts of kindness are not as evident because there are so many people living in the city compared to a small town.”
“So more clutter to block how people act with each other?” Tara grasped the seat buckle and pulled it across her to snap it into place. Then she studied him for a second before grinning. “Easier in a small town with fewer people to see patterns in the layers of society?”
“Like strata in a cutaway, those rock walls the highway goes between when you’re driving down the interstate.” He liked her sense of humor, the way she viewed the world around her. At her nod, he pushed the door shut, then hurried around to the driver’s side. Turning the engine on, he glanced at her. “Which way?”
“Take a right out of the parking lot.” Tara pointed to where he should go. “It’s just a couple blocks east.”
Grant navigated through the traffic around the town square, noting the historic nature of the downtown and the friendly greetings exchanged by the people passing each other on the sidewalk. He’d disparaged the town when he and Zak had first arrived, but things had changed. Like his opinion and sensibilities of what proved important. Soon he turned into the driveway of the Golden sisters’ house, one of the more elegant historic homes. “Nice place.”