Reaching the office, Gunnar saw the sheriff’s car parked down by the house, making him curious considering Grace and Daxton weren’t home. He placed the dog on a patch of thick grass and started for the office when the door swung open, Branson stepping out. He came to a sudden stop when he saw Gunnar.
“I didn’t know you were around.” Branson narrowed his gaze.
Gunnar’s suspicion slid down his spine. “How did you get in the office? It’s closed.”
Branson didn’t miss a beat. “The door was open. I didn’t see Grace down at the house so I thought I’d check here.”
“Grace and Daxton left earlier. I could have sworn I locked up before I went for a walk.”
“Are you accusing me of something?” Branson practically growled the words.
Shrugging, Gunnar said, “Only saying I should be more careful.”
One corner of the sheriff’s mouth lifted into wry humor. “Ain’t that the truth?” The abandoned dog whimpered. Branson cocked his head that direction, one thick brow curving. “What the hell is that?”
“He’s been hurt and left to die. I found him in the woods.”
“Oh, I see. You’re one of those freaks who wants to save every animal.” He shook his head in disgust. “No wonder Grace likes you. She has the same desire, to save all the mutts of the world.” Branson smirked.
Gunnar remained quiet. He didn’t need to explain a damn thing to this man, and wondered why Grace even called him a friend. Gunnar knew the man’s type. He put on a good face for those around him, but deep inside, evil lurked like a dark cloud. What made the man far more dangerous was the gun he carried on his hip. Realizing it was going to take more than goading to ruffle Gunnar’s feathers, the sheriff took a step closer, using his larger size as intimidation. Gunnar didn’t even blink an eye.
“Just so we’re clear, I pulled up your records, boy.” Spittle shot out of Branson’s mouth and just missed hitting Gunnar in the face.
Yeah, he realized this was going somewhere.
“Driving while under the influence? Stealing a vehicle?” Branson ticked his tongue. “My, oh my.”
“I was eighteen and the truck belonged to my dad who didn’t know at the time I was the one who had taken it. All of this happened before I went into the marines. ”
“But you’re not perfect, now are you?” Branson’s eyes turned glossy as if he’d found a treasure of gold.
“Never said I was.”
“I find it real curious that you’re sticking around these parts. It’s possible you’ve gotten a scent of classy, sweet pussy and believe a woman like Grace would give a man like you the time of day.” He laughed—more like a cackle. “If that’s the case I’d suggest you move on.”
Gunnar held his chin high, his blood pressure not raising one point. “Then that’ll make us two disappointed men, won’t it, considering she isn’t interested in you, either.”
Branson’s lips thinned, he clenched his hands into fists. “Listen here, boy. Don’t think because you wore a uniform and carried a gun while you played marine will change the fact that I’ll snap your neck like a twig, then throw your body so deep in the woods that the scum animals of the earth will have eaten you before anyone realizes you’re missing. But who’d worry about a drifter like you? No one will ask questions. They’ll think you disappeared down the road.”
The stray perked his ears, growled, and attempted to sit up, but he couldn’t manage.
Branson drilled the dog with a killer expression.
Tires on gravel made Gunnar and the sheriff look as Grace’s truck barreled up the lane toward the greenhouse, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her. Branson growled and took a step back, putting on a perfected smile and waving as she came to a stop a few feet before them, shutting off the engine. She climbed out, looking from Gunnar to Branson, then back to Gunnar in question. “What’s going on here, fellows?”
“I just stopped out to see you. I was asking your handyman if he knew where you were, right?” He looked at Gunnar for validation.
“Yeah. That’s right.” He didn’t want to bring Grace in on the sheriff’s ways. That was the last thing she needed.
“I had a flower delivery after I dropped Daxton off with Martha. I didn’t expect to see you out here, Cooper.”
Gunnar could see by the slight tilt of her chin that she was uncomfortable.
“I thought I should pay you a visit. Can I speak to you alone?” Branson asked.
Grace tucked her thumbs into the front pockets of her ripped jeans, her chin high, her eyes narrowed. “Anything you have to say, you can say it in front of Gunnar.”
He knew Grace’s words had less to do with Gunnar being privy to the conversation, but more because obviously the sheriff made her uncomfortable. . Gunnar’s protective side grew larger and he knew in that instant, he’d do anything to protect Grace and her son.
Several expressions flitted across Branson’s face. Surprise, uncertainty, then settled with humor. “If that’s what you’d like. It appears your handyman here has a criminal background.”
No surprise the man would use whatever leverage he needed.
Grace didn’t show one weak spot in her expression. “Is that right? Cooper, don’t you have anything better to do but crawl into other people’s backgrounds?” She crossed her arms over her chest, not looking Gunnar’s way.
“Ain’t you the least bit curious what he did?” The sheriff asked, not as proudly this time.
She shrugged. “Unless he’s wanted in all fifty states, I don’t think that’s really any of my business.”
“I think it is. If you’re not willing to take precautions to protect yourself and Daxton, then it’s my job,” he muttered. “He’s been in trouble with the law a few times. Driving drunk and theft. Been in jail also.”
“Cooper, have you forgotten that Trace told me everything about the good ol’ days when you two were still wet behind the ears? As far as I know, isn’t driving your grandmother’s Cadillac down to the lake at fifteen and getting smashed on homemade wine with your buddies considered a crime? Or how about public indecency? I hear tales, even to this day, how the ladies’ of the country club know all about your secrets.” She dropped her gaze to his waist then back up with a knowing smile. “Maybe it’s just illegal if you’re busted.”
His face turned pale and he rubbed the collar of his uniform shirt. He’d been put in his place and by his awkwardness, he wasn’t used to many people doing such a thing.
“Now stop coming out here and badgering my employee, you hear? He’s the best dang worker I’ve had and I don’t need you, or anyone else, trying to turn this upside down.”
He took a step closer to Grace, and Gunnar tightened his fists, ready if needed. Grace cast him a look, silently telling him to relax.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Grace. I wonder what your husband would think about you whoring with the likes of this trash.” Branson flipped a beefy thumb through the air, aiming at Gunnar.
Jessa, who was in Grace’s truck, barked and clawed at the inside of the door.
The only kink in her armor was her slight color change. “Well then I guess that’s up to my maker who is the final judge, Sheriff. Sometimes a man must be willing to take a hard look at himself before he starts casting stones at others. I knew Trace and he was always willing to give others the benefit of the doubt. You were his best friend, you should try remembering that.”
“You’re going to regret this. I promise you that.”
“Is that a threat?” Grace pulled her hands from her pockets and placed her palms on her hips, her eyes like lasers. “Do I need to call your daddy and let him know the trouble you’re causing?” He started to walk past Grace, but suddenly stopped, a cold expression flooding his face. “What are you doing, Cooper?”
He reached for his gun from the holster and lifted it, pulling the trigger.
****
The crack broke through the air. Grace screamed, closing her eyes
a mere second then finally opening them, expecting to find Gunnar lying on the ground. It wasn’t Gunnar who was dead. It was the too-thin, scraggly dog.
“Wha-what? Why?” Grace heard herself yelling.
“That dog was a nuisance. Probably had rabies. I did you a favor.” Cooper shoved his gun back into the hip holster.
“You, bastard!” Gunnar’s face turned an odd shape, full of emotion. She knew he was about to unleash on Cooper—and that’s probably what he wanted. A reason to arrest Gunnar and get him off Atwell Farm.
“What are you going to do about it?” Cooper snarled.
Grace quickly stepped in between the two men, facing Gunnar. “This is what he wants. For you to lose control. Don’t allow him to do this,” she whispered.
Gunnar continued to stare past her, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists. His mouth thin, his cheeks red. She’d never seen a man angrier.
“What a pussy. Allowing a woman to protect you,” Cooper goaded. “I should have figured.”
“Cooper, leave now! Get off my property before I call your dad and tell him exactly what you’ve done here today,” Grace threatened.
Fortunately, Cooper turned on his heel, got back into his car and took off.
Gunnar took a step back. “I’m burying the dog.”
“I can help,” she offered, still reeling from the events.
“I don’t want help.” His face remained steely.
She knew when a man needed his space, and Gunnar needed acres at the moment. She wouldn’t push herself on him and with no clue where the dog came from, but obviously he’d been hurt, maybe starving, she was more confused. She wanted to ask, but Gunnar was already in the office, returning with a shovel. He knelt beside the dog, picked it up, and headed for the woods.
Her heart skipped a beat, glad that Gunnar wasn’t hurt, but sorry that Cooper had killed the dog.
Chapter Eleven
The sun had set and the rain came. Thunder vibrated the house and lightening illuminated the sky as Grace stared out of the window. The lights were on in the room above the greenhouse office, but she didn’t see any movement. She wondered if Gunnar was asleep. She guessed he wanted no part of company.
Grace thought she should make herself a bowl of stew, but hunger remained less of a need than what she had for seeing Gunnar.
The phone rang and she hurried to pick it up. “Hello?”
“Well, well, you can certainly keep a secret.” The voice of her sister, Sophie, instantly made Grace happier.
“I have no clue what secret you’re talking about.”
Sophie’s snicker vibrated the line. “A handyman?”
“How is that a secret?”
“If it wasn’t, you would have told me. Apparently he must be one handy handyman.”
Grace carried the phone into the kitchen, crooked it between her chin and shoulder, and poured water into the kettle, more out of restless energy. “Why do you have a suggestive tone?”
“Because you kept him to yourself. Tell me, on a scale from one to ten with ten being the sexiest, just where does he land?”
She set the kettle on the burner and switched it on high. “Okay, I’ll admit he’s good looking,” and smells like heaven, “but I wasn’t keeping it from you.” Maybe I was. “I’ve been…well…busy.” Grace’s thoughts shot back to earlier when she was in Gunnar’s strong, capable arms, his hands on her, his mouth creating magic on her flesh. Her hands trembled and her heart skipped ten beats. The image of Martha’s disapproving glare skidded across the pleasant images. Grace scowled.
Sophie sighed. “I guess this means I’ll have to come and visit.”
“To check out my handyman?” That was just like her sister. “You can’t come and visit me, but you’ll come to Buttermilk Valley to see a stranger?”
“You know I’d come to see you. I miss you. Tell me, do you have less stress now that you have help around that place?”
“Yes. I am feeling different.” Grace plopped down into the wooden chair. “I’d like you to come when you can. I know you’re helping out with mom. She isn’t driving you batty, is she?”
“Just every other minute. How is it that I’m the one who is here taking care of her when we never got along, however, you’re her favorite?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. You know mom is always welcome to come live here, but she won’t leave her home. And I’m not her favorite. I just don’t argue with her. And remember, she’s not purposely being cantankerous. She just hasn’t been the same since dad died. I guess we’d all be that way if we spent forty years with someone, and one second they’re having breakfast, and the next they’re gone.” Or even seven years.
The line went silent for a good three seconds. “How are you, sis?”
“I’m okay.”
“Really? No sugar coating. You don’t have to do that with me,” Sophie urged.
The kettle burst with steam, making Grace jump. She got up and took it off the stove, setting it to the side. “Really, Sophie. I’m okay. Actually better than ever.”
“Does this have something to do with the sexy handyman?”
“I have a feeling you’ve spoken with Jerika.” Since Trace’s funeral, while Sophie was staying at the farm, she and Jerika had been her constant support and they had become good friends too.
“Okay…yes. She called to tell me about the juicy marine you hired.”
“You two had better stop discussing me in covert.” She attempted to come off as stern, but she liked that the two women were always there for her.
“You know we love you. I’ll come and visit soon.”
After hanging up, Grace’s thoughts went back to Gunnar and the whirlwind of emotions rushing through her. He was unlike any other man she’d ever met. He was rough around the edges, but with her he was kind, sweet and helpful. She laughed at herself. Of course he was all of these things, and more. His job was to be helpful. What they’d shared together was more than him being her handyman.
She liked that he was different from Trace. He’d been easy to read, always wearing his thoughts and emotions on his sleeve. She never had to wonder what he was thinking. Gunnar, on the other hand, wasn’t charming or overly polite, and yet, he was. And unlike Cooper who obnoxiously tried too hard to get her to go on a date. Her momma always said, “A man who rushes too fast out of the gate, only slows halfway around the track.” Grace knew her mother was right.
Grace would never forgive Cooper for what he’d done—for his behavior toward Gunnar, including killing a defenseless animal. Earlier, she’d called Cooper Branson Senior and spoke to the man about his son’s behavior. Cooper was out of hand. Mr. Branson, as she thought he would be, was angry. She’d like to be a fly on the wall when he had a talk with Cooper.
Her thoughts traveled back to Gunnar, as they always did. What did they have between them? Sex only? Or was there a sliver of chance they could find a future together. She was jumping the gun.
Obviously, he found her attractive. Her body had succumbed to his touch, needful and urgent. She found herself wanting him more and more—his company his kisses and his touch. A fire burned within her and she feared that only one man could ease the bittersweet pain.
She threaded her fingers through her hair, wishing she could look inside of Gunnar’s heart and head. What would she find? Heartache? Suffering? Battle? Death? How he’d reacted over the hurt dog proved he had a sensitive side, which she guessed he didn’t show very often.
She glanced at the heated kettle. She didn’t even want any tea now.
Going into the living room, she picked up a magazine, flipped through the pages, but couldn’t seem to read a word. The temperature turned scorching—inside her body and out. Her inner thighs trembled and turned achy. The imprints of Gunnar’s fingers lingered in her core. Her secret parts turned moist, craving his large hands, his mouth.
Tossing the magazine back onto the table, it slid across the polished wood and landed on the floor. She looked out th
e window. His light was still on.
****
Gunnar heard the knock on his door. At first he thought he’d imagined it, but then it came again. Soft, yet urgent.
He pushed up from his bed and went to the door, opening it to find Grace standing in the hall. Her wet hair was plastered to her rosy cheeks. Her bottom lip, plump and the prettiest pink, trembled. His gaze naturally fell to where the soaked shirt clung to her breasts, her nipples were hard.
“I’m sorry…maybe I shouldn’t have come. Were you busy?”
He tore his gaze back to her face and every muscle in his body turned solid. “Not at all.”
“Then can I come in?”
He hesitated, he should turn her away. Being alone with her would be too much for him. And yet, turning her away was the last thing he wanted to do. He stepped aside. “Sure.”
An energy sparked between them. Too powerful to ignore. Too strong to pretend it wasn’t there. He could still smell her need on his fingers, hear her moan as he brought her pleasure.
She slipped off her wet boots as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. His breath hitched. A rush of blood filled his lower body and he realized just how pathetic he could be around her. He backed up, needing the space.
“What happened earlier?”
“He shot the dog.” Another round of anger spliced through Gunnar.
“I know that, and I’m sorry, but there was something else going on. I could sense the tension.”
“He needed to tell you about my past.” He hated talking about the point in his life when he’d rebelled against his father—against the rules. He guessed a lot of teenagers did, but that time of his life wasn’t his proudest.
“Do you think I really care about what you did years ago? It doesn’t change what you’ve been doing for the last eight years. I understand Cooper had to dig pretty deep, and low, to gather something on you. He has no right in pointing a finger.”
Gunnar shrugged, feeling like his shirt shrunk two sizes. “You defended me. No one ever has, not like that.”
She nodded. “I couldn’t have him chasing you away.” She twisted her hands against her waist.
Unexpected Hero (Buttermilk Valley Book 1) Page 12