Ever so slowly, they moved together, turning in a slow circle, neither wanting to rush.
Gunnar was barely aware of Jessa laying a few feet away, grasshoppers chirping nearby, nor the wind rustling the trees. He drowned out the melody as he focused on the woman he held close. She leaned into him, an easy moan falling off her lips as she closed her eyes. He swallowed as she laid her head on his shoulder as if she gave into the magnetic need between them. What he wouldn’t give for this moment to last, to never let her go.
He nuzzled his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent, tattooing the feeling of her next to him in every cell. His body hardened and his jeans grew uncomfortable, cutting off circulation.
“Mom?” Daxton’s voice from inside the house drove through Gunnar’s fuzzy cloud like a bolt of lightning. He let go of Grace and stepped back. She looked at him, her eyes bright—her cheeks a pale pink and lips slightly parted.
“I better go and help him.” Her voice was barely audible.
He tore a hand through his hair. “And I’d better go. Thanks for dinner.” He took the steps in one stride and hurried across the yard, having a hard time walking when all of his blood rushed to one area of his body.
****
The sun glared through the windshield and Grace felt like they were in an oven. She needed to get the truck’s air conditioning fixed. Another item on her to-do list. Thankfully, Gunnar had fixed the AC in the office, but unfortunately that list never seemed to get shorter, only longer.
“It’s hot in here,” Daxton said from the passenger seat.
“Yeah, I know. Roll your window down.”
With both windows open, Grace’s hair whipped across her face. Moments like this she wanted to chop it all off, but at least the air was no longer stifling. “Are you excited to go to your friend’s birthday party? Sounds like it’s going to be a blast. Laser tag. Baseball. A movie. Can I come too?”
He laughed. “Mom…it’s only for kids.”
“I know. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” She nuzzled his hair, glad he’d brushed it before they left.
“Johnny said they have a treehouse and everything.”
She smiled at his excitement. It was nice seeing him smile again. “Your first sleep over. That’s huge, huh?”
He shrugged. “You going to be okay, Mom?”
She glanced across the seat. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? This is no different than you spending the night at your grandma’s.”
“You’re always saying I’m growing up too fast.”
“You’re a smart kid, ya know?” She sighed. “How about when I pick you up tomorrow we stop and put you into the art class like you’ve wanted? Or maybe the football league at the YMCA?”
He turned toward the window. “No one to take with me on father/son day.” She could barely hear him over the wind.
She rolled up her window. “I can go. The rules don’t say that only fathers are allowed to come.”
“You don’t like sports. Especially football.”
“Just because I’ve never played doesn’t mean I don’t like the sport.” She tightened her hold on the steering wheel. Truth was, playing sports was in Trace’s realm. There were a lot of things she was going to have to learn to do.
He looked at her and one corner of his mouth slipped up. He looked just like his father and her heart panged. “I’d rather have a new comic book instead.”
“Then a comic book it is.”
The rest of the ten minute drive was spent in silence as Grace pondered the future and Daxton looked through an old comic book. She wasn’t even sure he could read some of the words, but he liked the pictures. Two months ago he’d found his dad’s collection in the office and Daxton had asked if he could read them. Grace had said yes, at the time feeling that it might help Daxton feel closer to his dad somehow. Lately, playing video games and reading comics was all that he wanted to do. It could be worse and at least he did get outside lately and play with Gunnar.
After she dropped Daxton off, she headed back home, planning to curl up with a good book and lemonade, and finish off the pot of stew she’d put in the crock pot that morning. Stew for one always sounded lonely to her. She’d have to get used to being alone. Daxton was getting older, he’d spend more nights with friends. Attend more birthday parties. Eventually he’d start dating, then marry and move away.
Slow down, Grace. You’re getting ahead of yourself.
Yet how many times had she heard her friends comment on how fast their kids grew up. Too many times to not pay attention.
Maybe Gunnar would join her for dinner, but they’d never eaten dinner with just the two of them.
When she pulled up into the driveway, her heart sank into her stomach. Cooper Branson’s sheriff’s car sat in the driveway. She wouldn’t have immediately jumped to conclusions about his visit and think the worst, but she had a good feeling he hadn’t come for a friendly visit.
She slid out of the truck and prepared herself for speaking to him. They had a history…a slight one, but still. After Trace died it was only normal that his best friend would show support, help out around the house, do odds and ends. However, one late evening and an inappropriate kiss later, Grace had realized that Cooper had a different idea of what friends were for. Some time had passed since that embarrassing event when she’d rejected him. Cooper still stopped on occasion, but the awkward factor still lingered between them. Not even Jerika knew about that kiss.
As she stepped closer, Cooper pushed off the car, his sheriff badge glinting in the sunlight and his smile growing wider. “What brings you out here, Cooper? I don’t remember you saying you’d be out today.” She liked Cooper okay, after all he had been Trace’s best friend since they were kids.
“I haven’t seen you around lately so I thought I’d stop by and check on things.”
Grace knew there was more, but she didn’t want an argument. “Care for a glass of tea?” She could still be civil.
“I sure could use one. I’m as hot as a rooster on a tin roof.”
“Then let’s go inside. Okay?” When he didn’t answer, she turned back to find him staring off into the distance. She followed his line of vision and her mouth went dry. Gunnar had the hose high above his head, water streaming over his head and bare chest. She quickly turned and almost tripped on the steps to the porch. A strong hand caught her elbow. Lifting her chin, she met Cooper’s narrowed gaze. “Thank you.”
“You alright?” he asked.
She straightened herself, subtly shaking off his touch. “I’m fine. It’s just this heat.” She hurried across the porch and into the house. A blast of cool air washed over her and she was thankful for the relief.
Inside the kitchen, with Cooper sitting at the table, she took down two glasses, filled them with ice cubes from the dispenser on the refrigerator, and poured them full of tea. She handed him one and started to take the chair across from him when she thought better of sitting that close. Leaning against the counter, she took a long, fulfilling drink. Cooper sat quietly and Grace watched him. He was a nice looking guy. Kind enough, and she guessed there were single women in town who wished Cooper Branson visited them for acts of kindness and kisses. She didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t have one heart palpation or subtle ache in areas of her body like she should.
Her gaze automatically turned toward the window and she looked out across the lawn. Gunnar wasn’t by the water hose any longer. Disappointment flooded her.
“You always make the best sweet tea, Grace.”
Cooper’s voice brought her attention back on him. “Thank you. Secret is in how long you allow the tea bags to brew.”
He smiled. “I see you have a new handy man.”
Yep, there it was. She knew this would eventually come to surface. “Let me guess. You’ve spoken to Martha and you’re on her side.”
“She’s only worried about you.” He leaned onto his elbows, scrubbing his prominent jaw.
Grace blinked. “She m
ight be worried about Daxton, but she certainly isn’t worried about me.” She wasn’t up for defending the other woman today. Grace couldn’t believe how often the other woman managed to cross the invisible line.
“She is his grandmother.”
“And would I ever forget that?” She took a sip of the tea, having a difficult time swallowing.
“Do you know anything about this fellow?” Cooper gave a short nod toward the door.
“His name is Gunnar Knox and he recently came back from Iraq.”
“That’s all you know?” His brow shot up in accusation.
She shrugged. “If you’re asking if I took a blood and urine sample, no I didn’t,” she snapped. The heat really was getting to her. Her patience had dwindled.
“Did you have him fill out an application, run a background check?”
“Of course you know the answer is no. He would have had to come to the sheriff’s station and I’m sure you would have gotten wind.”
“You’re too trusting.” He shook his head in irritation.
“And you’re too skeptical. Martha should have never called you. This isn’t any of her business or yours. I’ve made it clear that I need a man’s help around here. He’s already fixed the roof. Mowed the lawn. Built a fence.”
“I’ve told you, I can take care of all of those things for you.”
She gave her head a quick shake, sending tendrils of hair smacking her cheeks. “I can’t ask you to do the work around here.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Meeting his gaze, she didn’t falter. “Probably a bit of both.”
He pushed back the chair, stood and strolled over to her. She got a strong whiff of cologne and had an instant ache in her temples. “Trace would have wanted me here, helping.”
She lowered her gaze to the top button of Cooper’s shirt. Why must they go through this? “I-I think you want more in this and I can’t give you that, what you’re hoping for.”
He touched her chin, lifting her face so that she had no choice but to look at him. “I think you need time and I’m willing to wait for as long as it takes.”
Binds broke within her. Instead of feeling grateful, she felt suffocated. She sidestepped him. “Cooper, you could wait, but you and I will never have the relationship you’d like to have. You were Trace’s best friend, and I’d like to keep you as a friend as long as you understand and respect my feelings.”
His jaw tightened and the area between his brows scrunched, then he took a step back, bumping against the table. He grabbed his glass and downed his drink in one gulp as if he needed to absorb her words before he responded. He set it back down with a crack and strolled to the door, stopping to say, “I hope you haven’t made a mistake where this handyman is concerned. I’d hate for anything bad to happen to you or Daxton.” And he moved through the door, slamming it behind him.
Grace stood by the sink for the longest time thinking over Cooper’s words. They didn’t settle easy on her.
Chapter Eight
The dog’s ears popped up. Gunnar had heard the wheels coming up the gravel lane too. He knew it wasn’t Grace’s truck. Jessa got up, growling deep in her throat, just as the sheriff’s car pulled into view, parking close to the house.
From the shade of the tree, Gunnar had watched the sheriff get out of his car and scan the area as if he was looking for something, or someone.
Gunnar had stayed by the fence. Back in his twenties, he’d had his run-ins with the law on more than one occasion before he enlisted. From a distance, Gunnar continued to evaluate the man. The sheriff couldn’t see Gunnar and he had a hankering to keep it that way, at least for a bit, but it didn’t take long for the man to perch his head to the left and target Gunnar in his line of sight. He nodded in greeting and the sheriff pulled off his sunglasses, his gaze narrowing on Gunnar. Just as he’d thought…he came looking for someone.
Gunnar had picked up the hammer and went back to work. If the sheriff needed something, he’d make his presence known soon enough. Jessa remained at alert, still growling under her breath and making no move to greet their company. That told Gunnar a lot about the man in the uniform.
“Settle, Jessa.” Gunnar patted her neck and the dog laid back down.
Not long after the man made himself comfortable staring at Gunnar, Grace had pulled in. Normally, Gunnar would mind his own business, but he’d decided to pay close attention to what was happening across the lawn. Seeing the sheriff greet Grace with an ear-to-ear smile, Gunnar wondered what the relationship was between them.
When they disappeared inside of the house together, Gunnar’s gut tightened. For the first time ever, he felt jealousy—a deep, burning in his body. He knew he didn’t have the right, but it didn’t lessen the severity of the emotion scorching his veins.
Grace had never given him any indication that she was seeing anyone, so maybe the sheriff was only a friend. Hell, Gunnar saw the underlying look on the other man’s face when he saw Grace get out of the truck. There wasn’t an ounce of friendship in that shit-eating grin.
He picked up a board, held it in place, drew back the hammer and accidently struck one finger. “Shit!” Thankfully, the thick gloves absorbed some of the force.
Get back on track, Knox.
Wasn’t going to happen. He decided he needed a break.
A short while later, he wasn’t half surprised to see the sheriff coming his way. Gunnar shifted on the rock by the wood’s edge, taking another bite of his apple. Once the man approached, Gunnar swallowed and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Starting to get up, the sheriff motioned for him to stay seated.
Jessa brought her head up and growled. “Easy, girl,” Gunnar whispered.
“I’m Sheriff Branson. We haven’t met yet.” The burly man sniffed and puffed out his wide chest. Oh, he was one of those guys who used his testosterone before his brains. Gunnar noticed that the badge shone, but the sheriff’s boots were dirty which made Gunnar curious. Looked like the man had gone hiking in the woods. Gunnar had thought he’d seen tracks in the woods earlier that day. “I make it my business to get to know everyone who travels through town.”
Something in the man’s gaze brought an uneasy feeling to Gunnar. He’d always relied on his instincts and they silently warned him he’d have some trouble with the sheriff. For a long second, Gunnar stared, then tossed the rest of his apple into the woods. He stood, not liking the fact that Branson stood above him. “It’s good you’re watching over the town.”
Branson lowered his gaze over Gunnar as if sizing him up. He didn’t blame the man. They were about equal in stature, but Gunnar had long learned that sometimes the badge made a man feel superior. Just like carrying a gun had made many soldiers a giant. Problem was, sometimes the power got to their head. If a man lost his grip on reality, he became dangerous.
“It’s my job to see to it that the people of this town are taken care of. That’s how we keep the peace. What brings you around these parts?”
“Work.” Gunnar reminded himself to keep it simple.
Branson’s mouth curved into a smirk. “Here? In Buttermilk Valley?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s your name?”
“Gunnar Knox.” He had a feeling Branson already knew that fact.
“Where you from, Knox?”
“Ohio.”
“You’re quite a ways from home, aren’t you?”
Gunnar didn’t respond.
Branson rubbed his jaw as if searching for the right path of interrogation. “If you’re here for funny business, I’ll let you know right now, I won’t have it.”
“Funny business?” Gunnar lifted a brow.
Before he answered, the man turned a glance toward the house. “Yeah, funny business.”
Gunnar accessed the situation in a three second process. Branson liked Grace and needed to size up his competition. Gunnar knew this game all too well. Who had the biggest kahunas, but he refused to play. It never ended well. “No.
I’m not into funny business.”
“Then we shouldn’t have a problem. How long you planning on staying?”
“That’s up to Grace. If she sees fit, that is.”
“What branch of military were you in?”
“Marines.”
“I bet you’re tough, aren’t you?”
Gunnar wondered if this was a trick question. “Only when the time requires.”
Branson chuckled as if there was something humorous about his debriefing. “Well, you take care of yourself, you hear?”
Gunnar watched as the man strolled back across the lawn, slid into his car and threw up a hand of farewell in Gunnar’s direction, but it lacked friendliness.
He never liked men like Sheriff Branson.
Once the dust settled on the lane, Gunnar darted a glance toward the house. He’d always been good at hiding his irritation and remaining calm. He usually got along with everyone, whether he liked them or not. He was known for being quiet, withdrawn at times, but he’d always helped anyone in a time of need. His tough nature and ability to look beyond his feelings had helped him climb the ladder in rank, but when it came to Grace and Daxton, he didn’t have the lock on his emotions like he should.
In the early years of his service, he’d almost given up. A man could easily falter under the constant degrading of superior rank remarks, but eventually he’d grown a tougher skin and it had made him a better person, stronger. He hadn’t seen a glimpse of his compassionate side in years, at least until he’d arrived here.
He wanted to be honest with Grace, tell her how her husband had given him strength at his low times. But how would she feel knowing Trace had shared private stories and issues? As time passed, it was getting harder to tell her about the letters. Truth was, he feared she’d send him packing, just as he’d worried the second he found out the pastor was gone.
Guilt spiraled through him. He didn’t want to hurt Grace or Daxton.
He shifted his attention back to the lane where Branson had driven away. Gunnar had a hard time believing that a man of Trace’s caliber would want a man like Sheriff Branson around his wife and kid. The sheriff let off a bad vibe.
Unexpected Hero (Buttermilk Valley Book 1) Page 10