“Really?”
“Of course. Like you didn’t know that.” She lifted her hand, swirling her fingers around the patch of hair at his navel. Soft and silky, like the hair on his head before she sheared it off.
“I remembered you saying you didn’t grow up around these parts.” He moved his thumb in a circular motion on her shoulder.
“No. I grew up in the city.”
“What was your childhood like growing up?”
“Pretty normal,” she said.
“That’s vague.”
She tilted her chin to look at him. “My dad was a corporate lawyer. Worked a lot, but we had everything we wanted, except more time with him. My mom was wonderful. Not just a mom, but the pinnacle of my family. My sister and I were close growing up, best friends, still are. I’ve tried everything to get my mom and Sophie to move here to the Valley.”
“Have you thought about moving back to the city?” His fingers had moved into her hair now. He twirled a strand around his finger, letting it drop, then picking it back up as if he tested its softness.
She shrugged. “Maybe for about a split second after Trace’s death. Then I realized I’m a part of this farm now. And Buttermilk Valley is a part of me. Although this town has its problems, it’s home. And more importantly, it’s Daxton’s home. This is his land. His father loved this property. Someday, Daxton will make this his family’s home, I hope.”
“That makes sense. My dad loved his land. I loved it too. Unfortunately, my brother and sister didn’t have the same sentimental connection.”
“Did they sell it out from underneath you?” She planted her chin on her palm lying on his chest.
“You could say that. I was in Iraq when he passed, came home for a week and had to go back. When my duty was up, over six months ago, I found it up for sale. When it sold, I decided I needed to explore the countryside and ended up here.”
“I’m sorry about the house. That must have hurt.”
“It wasn’t easy, but in the long run it’ll work out. One day I’ll have my own place and…”
“And what?”
“A family.”
Did she catch a choked sound? “So you do want a family?”
“Of course.” He looked down at her. “Do I not seem like a man who can love?”
She gave a tense shrug. “Yes, but—”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Why did she suddenly feel heavy chested and light headed? Thinking of Gunnar with another woman, marrying her, did weird things inside of her. “You know what we need?”
His eyes twinkled mischievously. She playfully pinched him on the arm. “Yes, that would be nice, but I was thinking ice cream.”
“Excuse me?” He lifted a brow. “So ice cream is better than what we just did?’ he teased.
“Not even close. I love ice cream though. While some people like to sleep after, or even smoke a cigarette, I enjoy ice cream. Chunky Brownie Nut. Do you have a favorite?”
“Don’t laugh, okay?”
“Why would I?”
“Pink Bubblegum.”
“Oh, what’s wrong with that?” She bit her bottom lip.
“It’s not real manly. Go ahead and laugh. I know you want to.”
“I don’t want to laugh. But sorry, I don’t have frilly ice cream,” she joked.
“Real cute.” He tickled her side and she erupted into laughter. “Okay, let’s get ice cream. Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets.”
She jumped up to her knees. “We’ll have to get out of this cozy bed and walk over to the house. It might still be raining.”
“I won’t melt, but you on the other hand…” He swept his fingers through her hair. He kissed her fully on the lips, then pulled back, his eyes shining.
Climbing from bed, she searched for her clothes and found them on the floor. She grabbed them and held them against her body. She looked for a place to dress, but the space didn’t offer much privacy. “I’ll be back.” She headed to a corner just outside of his view, dressed, and did a quick finger comb on her hair. When she popped back into his view, he was now dressed, and she was a bit disappointed that she’d missed seeing his body.
Hand in hand, they walked through the wet grass toward the farmhouse. Grace looked up into the sky as the clouds rolled by. It was a gorgeous night, matching her mood.
Once they were in the house, she slipped off her boots and Gunnar did the same. She grabbed the container of ice cream from the freezer. “Grab two bowls.” She pointed to the cabinet. He did as requested. “Not those. We have to eat from the clear glass sundae dishes.”
“These?” He held up one.
“Yes, those. They were my grandmother’s. When we’d go to her house, she’d fill them to the brim with ice cream for my sister and me. When she passed, the one thing I asked for were those dishes. We only use them on special occasions.” Seeing him smile, she asked, “What?”
“Is this a special occasion?”
“You betcha.” With an ice cream scoop, she filled the dishes and put away the ice cream. “Wanna sit on the porch?”
“Sounds good.”
They walked out onto the porch and the air was perfectly cooled. Together they sat on the swing, digging into the chocolate treat, neither saying a word at first.
Finally, he said, “You’re right. This is delicious, especially after sex.”
“Told ya so.” She scooped a big spoonful. “Believe it or not, I could never get Trace to eat ice cream with me here on the porch. He always wanted to fall asleep.” She couldn’t believe how easy it was to tell Gunnar things she’d never told anyone, not even Sophie or Jerika.
“Would you come out alone?”
She nodded. “Yes. My own private paradise.”
“Sounds relaxing.”
“Sure, but sometimes lonely.”
“Were you lonely with Trace?” he asked.
“At times.”
“He loved you.”
She shot up a brow. “And how do you know that?
There was a slight hesitation. “Who couldn’t love you?”
She laughed. “You might be giving me too many props.”
“Those are nice flowers. What are they?” He pointed to the garden by the lamp post.
“Blue Bonnets. They’re my favorite.” She scraped the bottom of her bowl, then set the empty dish on the table. He finished too and set his bowl beside hers.
“Stretch out.” He patted his lap.
She brought her legs up and extended them across his lap, leaning so that she could see his profile. When he started massaging her feet, she felt an instant relief. “That’s amazing.”
“Sorry.”
“About the massage?” She lifted a brow.
“No, about Trace.”
She saw the hardening of his jaw. “Thank you. He was a really good guy. But at times I wondered if things would have been different.’
“What do you mean?”
“If I hadn’t gotten pregnant with Daxton.”
“The pregnancy wasn’t planned?”
“Best surprise ever, but still, a huge shocker. When I told Trace, he asked me to marry him and I accepted. We ran off, made it legal, then went to Jamaica for a honeymoon before I got too big. Romantic, huh?”
“It is if you loved each other.”
She rested her head against the chain of the swing. “I think we loved each other, or at least grew to love one another. We were different enough that we got along.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I’ve thought, though, that he would have married Darcy if his mother would have approved.”
His brows shot up. “I don’t think so.” He relaxed back into the wood.
“Why not?” She pulled a string off her shorts, rolled it between her thumb and finger.
“I understand you wonder about Trace’s feelings, but I’m sure when he met you he knew what he wanted, surprise pregnancy or not.”
She lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “I guess I just always
had a feeling that Trace had never gotten over her. But that’s the past and it no longer matters. What happened can’t be changed. I do have a confession.” He was still rubbing her feet and her body eased into the seat. “The day we met, when you came into the office, I was searching my mind on how I could get to the shotgun if things became bad between us.”
His hands stopped moving. “Did I look that scary?”
She laughed. “Yes, in a way. I’ve been on edge since, well, you know.” She paused, moving her legs from his lap and ticking her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I’m almost embarrassed to admit that for a long time I couldn’t walk on the sidewalk without looking over my shoulder. I expected danger around every corner. I was a walking anxiety.”
“I’d say that’s normal and nothing to be ashamed of.”
“And something else. When Cooper shot his gun, I thought he’d shot you. I would have fallen apart at the seams. I also realized that I didn’t lose my head in the situation, but stayed strong. You being here has made me stronger, more willing to live life instead of hiding.” She reached out and traced the lines of the tattoo on his arm. “Is this a marine thing?”
“What? A tattoo?”
“The eagle with the dog tags.”
“Our troop all got one. It’s hard to explain how complete strangers could become family when, under different circumstances, we probably wouldn’t have even liked each other.” He looked up to the sky.
“Do you miss your friends?”
“Most have been killed.
She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “What happened, Gunnar?” She dropped her fingers to the healing scar along his ribcage.
“We were out walking the perimeter of one of the last contained towns when the explosion happened. Three of my men were killed instantly, two severely injured along with women and children.” He rubbed his forehead as if the memory was hard to put into words. “I went back into the fire…the smoke…saving as many as I could. When I was pulling out the last survivor from the debris everything went blank. I woke up, had this wound and had lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been horrible.” Tears filled her eyes.
“So much useless destruction. So many lives lost needlessly, and yet each and every one would have died for a cause, what they believed in. The bomber had been a kid, barely a teenager. Two of my men had wives, kids, happy lives. And here I was with no one. Why did I live and they didn’t?”
She took his hand into hers, entwining their hands. “You’re here because you have purpose. Trace didn’t like the military much, yet he had so much respect for everyone who served and was serving. “He seemed mesmerized in watching the dark clouds crawl over the moon. And she enjoyed watching him. “I think that’s why he reached out to soldiers, wanting to offer them comfort of sorts. There at the end he was writing someone letters, wanting to do his duty in helping him, encouraging him. I also think whomever he was connecting with was also helping Trace.”
****
At the mention of Trace and the letters, Gunnar stiffened. His heart knocked against his ribs, but he did a good job not showing how her words affected him.
“He mentioned that he’d become friends with a man, someone who seemed on a path of destruction. After the accident, I wanted to stay in touch or at least tell him what happened, but I couldn’t find the address or any of the letters the marine had sent to Trace. I found that odd, but my husband did like his privacy when it came to certain things.”
Gunnar wanted to ask questions, wanted to probe further, but he held his tongue. He should tell her the truth. This would be the time. He opened his mouth, but she dropped her feet to the patio and stood. He got up too, shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and watched her. She looked so beautiful with the dim light shining off her hair and her lovely face glowing. Gunnar wasn’t a sentimental man, but he wasn’t too tough to realize that he had feelings for this woman and her son. What they’d just shared pushed those emotions deeper, making it difficult for him to think, even to breathe. “I’m sorry, Grace—”
She turned and looked at him. “There’s nothing you need to say, Gunnar. Trace wouldn’t want Daxton and I, or anyone, pondering over his death in unhappiness. It was a terrible, horrible thing that happened, but now…I’m growing. Daxton’s growing. I want to keep his father’s memory alive. I don’t want our son to forget, but I know he will, at least some.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s my job to help him remember. I think all of this time, that’s why I haven’t moved on, have stayed closed up, because I was afraid I’d forget Trace’s laughter. His soft voice. The way he’d tickle Daxton’s feet and he’d belly laugh. I have all of these memories and I find that no matter how tight I clutch them, they continue to fade. Is that supposed to happen?”
He shrugged. What could he say? He wasn’t a man with positive words or motivating speeches like Trace. Or words of wisdom like Gunnar’s dad, but she expected him to say something. “Maybe because you’re holding on so tight, you’re suffocating all of the memories. I can’t remember many things about my mom. I hate that most of the memories have disappeared except for one that stays fresh. Before she got sick she would wake me up for school every morning. She’d come into the room singing” He laughed. “That’s not a lot of memories after so many years, but for me, it’s enough. One solid, good memory.”
She wiped her cheek. Was she crying? His chest narrowed. If she cried, he’d lose it. Never could stand to see a woman cry. It reminded him of his mother and how she’d cry out of nowhere, and he’d try everything to make the tears stop.
Grace smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re right. I’m struggling to keep all of those memories when all I need is one good one—one special one. Trace would want that.”
Chapter Fourteen
“What do you mean he’s missing?”
Grace stared at Gunnar who held a shovel from digging a fence post. His brows scrunched and his mouth thinned. Grace held her hands, trying to keep herself calm. “Daxton and I got into an argument. Over nothing really but video games. Then he threw down his controller and stormed out, going to his room. I went to check on him a few hours later and he wasn’t there. His window was open so he must have snuck out and shimmied down the drain pipe. I can’t find him anywhere.” Fear scurried down her spine and her stomach twisted.
Gunnar dropped the shovel, grabbed his shirt from the tree limb and dragged it on. “Do you know what way he went?”
“No, I don’t. Will you help me look for him?” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep the quivering from her voice. She wanted to be strong, but when it came to her son, she couldn’t imagine anything happening to him. He was all she had.
“Of course I’ll help. I think we should start down by the creek.”
“Why?” Her worst fears tangled their way around her veins, suffocating her.
“He likes to sneak down by the water and fish.”
“He told you this? He’s not supposed to go down to the creek alone.”
Gunnar scrubbed his jaw. “You might hate me for saying this, but if you try too hard to protect a kid, they’ll start testing the waters, so to speak, on their own.”
Anger shot through her. “And you know this how? Because you’ve gotten all of this experience from being a father?”
He blinked. “That’s unfair.”
“Is it? You’ve been here for a month and now you’re giving me advice on how I should parent my son. That’s what is unfair,” she snapped.
His tan paled. “I’m not telling you how to parent, Grace. I just see how you’re suffocating the boy by being over protective. I get that you’re afraid of losing him, but if you don’t give him some freedom, he’s going to find ways to gain his independence and you’re not going to like the outcome.”
“Oh, and you know this better than me?”
“Yes, I do. I was that kid who had gotten into
a lot of trouble to find my place. I snuck out at night, drank too much, did things just to see if I could get by with it. The theft Branson referred to was my dad’s truck. A buddy and I took off in it and dad called the sheriff to report it. We were found drunk out of our minds and ended up in jail. Dad didn’t want to file charges, but because we’d done some damage to someone else’s property, we didn’t get off easily.” He smoothed his hand over his head. “I learned my lesson and knew I needed something better, something to jar me back into reality. I enlisted into the Marines.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.” Her bottom lip trembled.
“Say nothing. Let’s get Daxton back home safely.” He stomped across the grass and Grace had to hurry to stay behind him. They’d had a lot of rain over the last few days and the creek was up. As they got closer, she could hear the roaring of the water passing through the narrow passage.
“The water gets too high down here.”
“He’ll be fine, Grace. He’s a smart kid.”
“Is that a testosterone thing? Run away when things get tough?”
He nodded, his gaze narrowed. “I guess so.”
They followed the path into the woods all the way to the creek’s edge. Both looked down one side of the creek and the other. No sign of Daxton. “I’m calling Cooper.”
“Wait.” Gunnar pointed to an area of the woods overgrown with brush. “Daxton, come on out. It’s okay. Your mom and I are just worried.”
Several seconds went by and then they heard a rustling sound, followed by the breaking of twigs under feet. Daxton popped out of the brush, a worried expression making his face pale. “Am I in trouble for coming down here alone?”
Grace swallowed the relief building in her throat. “No, Dax.” She hurried over and gave him a hug as reprieve spread through her. She took a step back, releasing him, but holding his shoulders. “What happened? Why did you sneak out?”
He stayed quiet.
Gunnar stepped forward. “It’s okay, buddy. We all need some time away once in a while, but it’s also important to talk about what’s bothering you.”
Unexpected Hero (Buttermilk Valley Book 1) Page 14