Chapter Ten
Grace plopped the cardboard box filled with JJ’s stuff into her car and slammed the trunk shut.
The nerve of those people. Teachers were supposed to challenge and inspire, not confine and berate. How JJ managed to survive as long as he had in that place was a mystery—and a miracle. He deserved so much better. Everything Grace had heard about JJ’s mom made it clear that Sheila wouldn’t have put up with this if she’d known. Had she not been paying attention? What could have been more important than her son?
Her husband, dying of cancer.
Sadness swirled inside of Grace. It mixed with compassion for what her father and his new family had been dealing with—feelings she hadn’t allowed herself to feel toward her father since she’d left town. Since Noah had pushed her away.
Noah. JJ’s protector and best friend. At one time, Noah had been both those to Grace. But now, what was he? Grace’s emotions played tug-of-war every time she thought of him and their bittersweet past. Of their murky, unresolved present. What was Noah’s place in her and JJ’s future?
Noah had been right about Goldfield; it wasn’t worth its fancy reputation. That didn’t mean he’d be right about the boarding school, though she’d never convince him of that. Especially not after today.
Dear Lord, what had she done? Apprehension crept into her stomach, then morphed into full-out alarm as she realized what she’d just done. Goodbye recommendation. Mrs. Matthews probably wouldn’t give one, and Grace was too pissed to go back in and ask anyway. And what about JJ’s transcripts? There was at least one exam—science—that JJ would miss. Now there’d be incompletes or failing grades to explain. What had she been thinking?
JJ had survived an entire year. Two more weeks wouldn’t have killed him. She’d acted too hastily. It shouldn’t have been possible, but the morning had gone from very bad to much, much worse.
She got into her car and started the engine. Bad things happened in threes, her Grandma Jean used to say. Grace looked up and checked the sky. Clear blue. Humph. She shoved the gearshift into drive. She had to get out of this parking lot. Today would be just the type of day for some meteorite to come crashing to earth and squash her like a bug.
…
Noah pressed the numbers into his phone to dial Destiny Morson. His thumb hovered over the green call button. Was he doing the right thing? Hell yeah. He pushed the green button.
Destiny answered on the first ring. “I was just thinking about you guys. I heard Grace got in, and I’ll need to meet with her. How’s everything going?”
Noah crossed his fingers before answering, “Fine.”
“I’m glad to hear that. And JJ? How’s he doing?”
He’d promised JJ he’d never leave, and he wouldn’t. Not without a fight. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling.” He needed someone to understand his side, and maybe even be on it. He dove in.
Twenty minutes later, Noah had just enough knowledge to make himself dangerous and an inkling of a plan. From the house, Noah heard the engine humming as Gracie’s car pulled up the drive. Then the car door slammed. Not a good sign. He walked out the door and down the porch. Gracie opened her trunk and lifted out a cardboard box.
She stepped toward him. “How is he?”
Noah wanted to blame Gracie, to lash out, but that wouldn’t help the situation, and it certainly wouldn’t help JJ. Plus, he was tired of fighting. They’d rarely fought before, but now every interaction felt like a battle. Gracie had always been the one person who inspired him. She’d give 100 percent to everything she did and never seemed to tire.
Except with her father. She gave and gave and gave; he took and took and took. Still George’s condition hadn’t improved. Noah had watched as Gracie’s life was sucked out of her. That was why Noah had pushed her away. She’d needed to get out. Without a word, he took the box from her.
“Talk to me, please. How is he?” she asked again.
“Exhausted. Asleep.”
Her eyes widened briefly before her face relaxed. No doubt she’d expected a harsher response.
“I’ll talk to him as soon as he wakes up.” She leaned back against the side of the car.
“We’ll do it together.” Though hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. He held her gaze. “I think he’ll come back around to you. Just be honest with him.”
Gracie nodded. The sun made her brown hair shimmer like gold thread. He wanted to drop the dang box and run his hands through the soft curls, twist them around his fingers like he used to.
“They kicked him out.” Her tight tone brought him back to reality.
“What?”
“Apparently he doesn’t fit into the ‘Goldfield Community.’” She emphasized the last two words with finger quotes. She nodded toward the box. “You’re holding his locker stuff.” Then she let out a long sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me I was walking into a lion’s den?”
“I didn’t know.”
Her pursed lips and cocked head said she didn’t believe him.
“Okay, I did, sort of. But when Mrs. Matthews called to talk about some behavior issues, I figured it was more a heads-up, not an on-probation thing.” He shrugged. “What does it matter anyway? He’s not going back there next year.”
“Yeah, well, he’s not going back there this year, either. I pulled him out. Effective today. They were more interested in test scores than teaching. They want conformity, not individualism. A place like that is toxic for a kid like JJ.” She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “And the art teacher is horrific. JJ’s not spending another day there.” Her voice shook from outrage and something more. It was almost as if…as if she cared.
Noah held his breath.
“I left without asking for a recommendation letter.” Her voice quivered with panic.
Noah was intrigued. Gracie had clearly fought like a mama bear defending her cub, instinctively, resolutely. And the aftermath didn’t fit into her master plan.
He had a solution, hopefully. Destiny seemed to think his idea was solid, that he could be granted permanent guardianship of JJ if Gracie agreed and the stars aligned. Though she’d need to talk with Gracie, probably more than once, and JJ, too, and get their perspectives before she could even begin to consider it or advocate for it. She also argued in Gracie’s defense quite eloquently, that it was natural for Gracie to need time to come around and accept this and step up—and that JJ staying with his sister would be good for the boy, even if it might mean leaving Nevada.
Noah agreed with everything but that last part. Unfortunately, they didn’t have much time to play wait-and-see, not with Gracie’s self-imposed deadline and the bank breathing down their necks. There was still a chance Gracie could change her mind and stay, though.
“I won’t have a recommendation, and I’m not even sure I’ll have semester grades to show the boarding school.” Gracie waved her hands in the air with the frustration of someone who wanted to do the right thing. Of someone who cared.
Ten more days of chances.
“So, what are you going to do?” he asked.
“What am I going to do?”
Noah raised a brow and waited. Her jaw tightened.
“I’m in this mess because of you.”
He put the box on the ground then crossed his arms, his muscles bulging. “How do you figure?”
“You kept things from me, important things. If you’d warned me about JJ’s behavioral problems, I would’ve been prepared. I wouldn’t have reacted so off-the-cuff, so…”
“Passionately?”
She glared at him. “Impulsively. You should have warned me.”
“Funny, I don’t remember you ever asking me one damn time for my input.”
She opened her mouth to object, then shut it. Because she knew he was right.
He took a step closer, pointing a finger at her. “You blew in here like a dirt devil, with your little plan, and your little schedule, and a big-ass chip on your shoulder. You don’t want my help, remember?”
The more he talked, the more the coldness in her face thawed. Worry lines, confusion. Like an enormous mess of emotions was battling to get out.
He shoved his hands in his front jean pockets. “Hell, I’m still trying to figure out why you came running to me this morning.” Circumstances aside, it’d been a big step for Gracie. Her reaction to this school meeting was another.
“He scared me. And I knew he’d respond to you. JJ trusts you.”
True, but he hoped there was more. He waited.
Tears welled in her eyes. “Because I trust you, at least when it comes to JJ.”
It was a start, and he’d take it.
She pushed past him and ran up to the porch swing, clutched the chain with her fingers. She sank onto the swing.
Noah followed and sat next to her. “I’m scared every day.”
“You?” She gave a rough grunt-laugh. “You act all macho, like you have everything under control.”
“A show for JJ,” he said softly and leaned back in the swing. “That boy’s perceptive. He’s lost so much, I don’t want him to worry. He has a hard time dealing. You saw that this morning.”
Gracie pushed her feet against the ground to swing the seat. A cool breeze swept in, and she closed her eyes as if trying to enjoy it. As if trying to find some peace. “There’s so much to do, to take care of. I don’t know where to begin.”
Noah recognized the cry for help. And he wanted to swoop in and fix it all, save her from herself. But he couldn’t force it, though maybe he could nudge her just a bit.
“Are you asking for my help?”
The swing stopped.
“Will you…will you help me?” Her lips grimaced, as if the words tasted like sand mixed with cyanide. She swallowed and kept going. “Maybe you could work with JJ,” she said tentatively. “You know, to get him used to the idea of a new school, a different life. And maybe help some with the animals, just a little, so I can get everything else settled.”
It definitely wasn’t ideal, because she was holding firm to leaving. But she offered an opportunity Noah couldn’t refuse. “You want me to take care of JJ and the ranch while you pack them up.” It was a statement, not a question, and he purposely kept his voice devoid of any emotion she could identify.
She glanced at him. Noah turned his body toward her, his knee pressing against hers. He felt a tremor run up her leg. He leaned in, invading her personal space, drinking in that cherry-lavender smell. “I have one condition,” he said softly. One she should refuse but wouldn’t, if she wanted to meet her deadline. And one that would give him the chance to rebuild what they’d had, maybe even build something stronger.
Her eyes widened, as if surprised his answer was something other than instant rejection. Her now-pursed lips told him she was confused, perhaps afraid to ask what his condition might be. “One condition,” he repeated softly, seductively. She squirmed in her seat. It would’ve been so much easier for her to deal with contempt.
His eyes dropped to her glossed lips. Would she laugh like she used to if he leaned in and nibbled her lower lip?
“We don’t divvy up the work,” he said. He watched her face register his words. Watched her realize that her request would cost her more than she’d imagined. “The ranch, JJ, packing—we do it all together.”
…
A few hours later, Noah waltzed into the kitchen. “I’ve had enough website coding for today.”
She wished she could say something similar. She had barely been able to concentrate on opening the stack of envelopes in front of her, let alone reading what was inside. She couldn’t think of anything except Noah’s words: we do it all together. Words that, on the surface, were a simple offer to help. But Grace knew it was anything but simple. How on earth would she get through the next week-plus sticking close to Noah in everything they did? Yet how on earth would she get through it without him?
Grace twisted in the kitchen chair, stretching her back. “And I’ve had enough sorting mail.” Or, rather, sorting bills.
“Ready for some real work?” he asked. “Which do you want, chicken feed or milk duty?”
Grace feigned surprise with her best game face. “I thought you said we were doing everything together.” She wouldn’t let him affect her. Definitely wouldn’t let him control her response.
Noah’s lips twitched. “You’re right. Chickens, then goats.”
“I’ll feed the chickens.” JJ walked through the kitchen and to the screen door without looking at either of them. “I’m better at it than her.”
Grace started after JJ before the screen door slammed shut. Noah grabbed her arm. His warm touch stopped her cold. “Don’t,” he said. “Give him a little more time. He’s acknowledged your existence. Baby steps.”
Grace nodded. He had more experience, and more patience, with JJ. She’d clearly made a mess of things on her own.
“Come on, let’s milk.” Noah held open the door. “The trick,” he said, as they walked to the goat stalls, “is how you talk to them.”
“You talk to them while you’re squeezing their teats? About what?”
Noah shrugged. “Anything. Or I just sing. It calms them, makes them milk faster, I think.”
“You’re serious.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m serious. Try it.”
“You first. I’ll watch.”
He led Lacy to the milking station, pulled up a stool, and started singing a lullaby version of Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name.”
“Eighties rock,” Grace said flatly.
He winked. “It’s their favorite genre.”
Grace leaned against one of the posts. Noah’s face relaxed, and his body eased. He seemed perfectly at home, at peace, singing to the goat. His tight jeans outlined hard thighs, and Grace could see every flex of his shoulders and back muscles through his worn T-shirt. Her stomach twisted.
Dear Lord, she was turned on watching Noah milk a goat. She shook her head. Must. Stop. This.
“So, uh.” She cleared her throat. “I want to learn about the types of things schools can do, should do, for kids like JJ. You know, beyond what Google says.”
“At one time, Sheila was all over that.”
“Where’d she learn it?”
“There, done.” Noah swiveled on the stool.
Grace nodded at the pail of milk. “Not bad. Maybe you should make a CD, sell it at the farmers’ market.”
Noah raised a brow, as if considering the idea. “Maybe.” He stood up and let the goat out of the station, then turned to face Grace. “I don’t know where Sheila learned it,” he said, getting back to their original conversation. “Maybe Mrs. Walters’s friend has some ideas.”
“Who?”
“This woman in her bowling league used to work with special needs kids. She just moved up from Vegas.”
“How do you know about her?”
He pulled his brows together, like he used to do so often when she asked questions that, to him, had no-brainer answers. “She told me. Friends help each other out, Gracie, offer support, sometimes without even being asked.” He slowed his speech like he was teaching her Chinese. “That’s how friendship works.”
Sarcastic prick, even if he was right. She wasn’t used to accepting help; he’d taught her not to depend on anyone. But she was tired of being needled about it. Maybe she was tired of the way he made her feel in general—guilty, insufficient, uncomfortable. He needed a taste of his own medicine.
She stepped close to him. Close enough to touch him. Too close. His eyelids widened a millimeter, barely noticeable, but his dark blue eyes flared at the challenge, and with something more. Desire. Goose bumps ran up Grace’s neck and down to her knuckles at the thought. Her fingers tingled, aching to touch him. “You made me ask you for help. What does that make us?” Her words came out in a weak whisper, not the snappy comeback she wanted.
He leaned in until they were only inches apart. “What do you want to be, Gracie?”
His breath feathered her cheek. Her mind swirled with clever responses, with unanswered questions, with utter confusion. The only clear thought was the overwhelming urge to touch him, taste him, breathe him in. His body shifted, closing what little distance was left between them.
“I want—”
The phone in her back pocket buzzed and vibrated. Grace stepped back, nearly tripping over the pile of hay behind her.
“Careful.” Noah leaned forward, grabbing her, his fingertips searing her forearms like a branding iron. The heat ran up her shoulder to her neck, burning her cheeks.
She pushed away—what did I almost do?—and grabbed the phone from her pocket. Thank God for whoever was calling. She checked the screen. Claire. “I better, uh, take this.”
She scrambled from the barn toward the chicken coop, her mind swirling. “Hey, Claire,” she said into the phone as she watched the chickens peck at the ground. Chickens had it so easy: eat, peck, poop, lay eggs.
“Grace, when are you coming back?” The panic in her voice jumped through the line and grabbed at Grace’s stomach.
“Didn’t you get my email?”
“Yes, yes, it came through fine. The book is printed, done. And it looks fantastic, as usual. In fact, I think it’s one of your best works. You have such talent, Grace.”
Grace sighed. “What do you want?”
“I’m being sincere. You’re very talented. I know it, and Simon knows it. Which is why he depends on you so much.”
“And?”
“Simon’s still in St. Croix—got a huge opportunity. He wouldn’t go into details, just said that he’s not going to make it to Milan.”
“That makes no sense.” Simon had been talking about shooting that wedding for months. The publicity, the international exposure. She figured on his deathbed, he’d demand to be carried into the wedding on a stretcher.
“You need to take his place,” Claire said.
“What?” A chicken looked up at her as she squeaked the word before returning to its pecking. “I can’t take his place.” Sure, she’d traveled with Simon on shoots, but she’d never taken on something this important herself. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t good enough.
“He says you need to go for him, that you’re the only one who can. I’ve researched flights and can get you out tomorrow night direct to JFK, and from there to Milan.”
“Simon thinks I’m ready?” She should have been elated, soaring on clouds. Instead Grace’s heart plummeted to her stomach. Couldn’t one thing, just one thing, go her way? “I can’t go to Italy.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to need the full two weeks here, maybe more. Things are complicated.”
“Complicated? We’re in disaster-mode here! This isn’t a request, Grace. Simon says you are to go to Milan.”
Grace bit back a caustic response. One thousand one, one thousand two… It wasn’t Claire’s fault. It was Simon’s. Every time he got into a jam—overbooked, whatever—he expected Grace to pick up the slack or fix it. Except that made this Grace’s fault, for letting herself get dragged in and taken advantage of every time an emergency popped up. But what else was she supposed to do? This was more than a job. This was her career—a career she loved. And the man was a genius.
She sighed. “I don’t know, Claire.” Maybe she could fly out for a week or so and then come back? Though that would extend her dates in Reno. She’d be calling it close with the bank’s deadline. She’d also miss Spencer’s opening. Plus, she had two weddings booked in June. But could it work? Maybe. She needed to lay it all out on a calendar. “Let me look into a few things, and I’ll call you back.”
“Oh, I knew I could count on you, Grace. I’ll tell Simon you’ll be there.” The phone went dead.
Selective hearing. Great. Grace debated redialing her, but there was no point until she figured out a schedule that might work. Simon, Noah, JJ, even Mr. Lincoln—everyone wanted something from her.
She looked out past the ranch. Acres and acres of empty land, miles even, reaching all the way to the foothills. Way out there, there were speckles. Wild horses, probably, running free. How she wanted to be free of everything.
Grace took the porch steps two at a time, grabbed her purse from her room, then turned around and beelined for her car. She needed to drive. She needed to think. Somehow in all this wide-open space, she was suffocating.