Chapter Two
Noah watched his words sink in. The look on her face was worth more than her diamond-stud earrings.
“You’re the housekeeper?”
He bit down a smile. “Not in the traditional sense.”
She frowned. “Yeah, more like nonsense.”
Damn. If possible, the East Coast had sharpened her barbed tongue. “I’ve been helping George.” He held her eyes. “Your father,” he said, pretending to misread the confusion on her face.
“I know who George is.”
Was.
“You’d know more if you’d stayed in touch. I’ve been helping out for the last two years.” Initially, it had been for the money. But when George couldn’t pay anymore, Noah had stayed. The ranch had grown on him, and so had JJ. “I offered to watch JJ until you got here.” No kid should be alone in the world.
“And the court agreed to that?”
This from the woman who’d left one message—one—and then had taken over a week to get here? Noah tamped down the anger simmering in his gut. “Destiny Morson is the social worker assigned to the case. She’s—”
“I know who Destiny is, too,” she said, irritation lacing her voice. “We graduated with her.”
At least she hadn’t forgotten all her roots. Especially impressive, since Gracie and Destiny had run in different circles—Destiny as captain of the debate team, and Gracie as captain of the cheerleading squad. Noah still remembered how that short skirt had showed off her long legs. Just like her current skirt and fancy heels.
Gracie sighed, then turned and looked out the barn door she’d come through. “We’ve got our work cut out to get the ranch sellable,” she said before launching into a list of things that had to be done, pronto.
Noah’d figured Gracie would want to sell the ranch, though the callousness of her declaration scraped at his skin. No matter. He knew the perfect buyer—him, assuming he could figure out how to pay for it. Not that Noah wanted to be a cowboy or even a rancher. But a handful of animals and some wide-open space—his own—with a creek running through it was close to perfect in his mind. Especially this ranch, the land he’d practically grown up on. Maybe JJ would visit over summer vacations. He wished he could do more, but his new digital marketing business was sucking through most of his money and almost all his time.
Noah kept his eyes locked on Gracie. He hadn’t lied; New York had definitely agreed with her. Regret pushed at his heart, but he shoved it aside. He’d made his choice seven years ago, and from the looks of her, she’d managed just fine. Professional, polished, a bit skinny.
But still sexy.
Gracie snapped her fingers at him. “Are you even listening to me?”
And still bossy. Noah’s eyes shifted to the lips that were lecturing him. Lush, red lips. Would they still taste like cherry? His tongue tingled, remembering the taste of her favorite gloss.
She stepped toward him. “You’re really the caretaker?”
He shook his head to get it back in the game. He wasn’t a horny eighteen-year-old anymore. Well, at least not eighteen anymore. “I’m real, honey. You can pinch me to make sure. I pick where.”
Her eyes widened, her cheeks reddening to bright apples. Hot and bothered, she was even cuter.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He knew her too well. She hadn’t expected to see him here. She most likely hadn’t wanted to see him ever again. Or that was probably what she told herself. Flushed cheeks, rapid breaths, fiddling with her hands and clothes. She was just as affected by his nearness as he was by hers. After seven years, was there still a chance that the girl he’d known, the girl he’d sent away, was underneath that hard East Coast shell? He needed to know. He stepped toward her.
“There was a time when you wanted to do a hell of a lot more to me than pinch.” His eyes held hers. A man could get lost in those eyes. Big vats of honey swirling down, down, down. “Remember that girl?” When she didn’t throw back a snappy comment, he took another step forward. “The one who used to fly on the tire swing down by the creek?”
Her face softened, her eyes unfocused.
He shifted closer. “The one who’d catch tadpoles,” he said, “and run barefoot through the fields after the wild horses.” He was less than a foot away. It wasn’t cherry he smelled but lavender, like the fields behind his granny’s garden. “The girl who loved this place, this land, as much as her family did.”
Her jaw tightened at the mention of that word—family. Damn. He’d overplayed his hand, pushed too hard, too fast.
She looked up, eyes blank. “That girl,” Gracie whispered. “She doesn’t exist anymore.”
…
Noah lugged her oversized suitcases, all three of them, into the mudroom, then nodded toward them. “This mean you’re staying awhile?”
“Two weeks,” Grace muttered. “Fourteen days too long.” She glanced around the mudroom. Her father had finally added the sink that Mom had wanted all those years. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they looked on the outside. She walked into the kitchen. It was like stepping through a time warp. Same cracked sink, same yellowing linoleum floor, same Formica countertops. Blech. Though the pink paisley curtains framing the sink window were new—well, newer—as were the matching home sweet home plaque on the wall and the other assorted knickknacks on the counter. The place almost had a homey feel. Almost.
She stood there, waiting for Noah to speak. He stood there, watching her reaction. Silence strung between them like an inflating balloon—stretching, stretching… Pushing on her chest. Suffocating her.
“I need to find JJ.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her jacket again. “The dirt-caked boy?”
Noah chuckled. “He’s probably down by the creek, or out in the fields watching the wild horses up in the foothills. I’ll walk back there with you.” He eyed her outfit, stalling on her heels. “You should change first.”
He was right; her clothes weren’t fit to slog through dirt and knee-high weeds. What had possessed her to get all dressed up? She knew the answer.
It was who she was now. It was her armor, her shield. It gave her courage. “I’m fine. Well, maybe just my shoes.”
“Your work boots are in the mudroom.”
“My boots? What would possess you all to keep those ragged things?” It was almost like her father had expected her to return. She pushed aside the thought before it gained traction in her heart.
Noah raised a brow and nodded toward her heels. “Good thing we did.”
She pressed her lips together. He was right, but she’d still prove him wrong. She looked at her suitcases. “Can you move my luggage into my room?”
“Uh, sure, but I’m sort of still set up there. I didn’t think I should stay in your daddy’s room.”
A squeezing sensation cinched her spine as she realized what he was saying. He’d been staying in her room, sleeping in her bed. Her bed. Dear Lord, the demons she’d battle tonight in her sleep. Her cheeks heated.
“That makes sense,” she rushed to say. “I didn’t realize. I mean, I get you’re watching JJ, I just wasn’t thinking.” But where did that leave her? She looked back at her luggage. “I’ll stay in town.” Her chest felt lighter as soon as the words left her lips. “It’s probably better. Like you said, JJ doesn’t even know me.”
“Don’t be foolish, Gracie. This is your home.”
Her eyes flicked to his, a snappy retort on her lips.
“I mean,” he said, softening his tone, “you haven’t sold it yet.” He tried for a smile. “Besides, you need to get to know JJ. You’re all the family he has now.”
“We’re not related.” She clamped her lips together, wishing the words, fit for a six-year-old sourpuss, had never passed through.
“Blood isn’t a necessity for family,” Noah said tightly.
“I know.” But she still hadn’t gotten used to thinking of the boy as her brother. Judging from JJ’s greeting, the lack of kinship was mutual. And not something that would change overnight. The more pressing issue was where to sleep—and it certainly wasn’t going to be under the same roof as Noah. “Like I said, I’ll stay at a hotel.”
“You’ll stay here. I was planning to move to the cottage, just for a few days, until you and JJ get to know each other. George and I were using it as a work shed, but I cleaned it out when you called. Then you never showed. But it won’t take me long to move my stuff. This way, I’ll be next door if you need anything.”
Her breathing hitched. Next door? Of course, the cottage was next door. And his plan made sense, at least until JJ was comfortable with her. Still, it’d make more sense if it wasn’t Noah. And if next door wasn’t so close.
“I’ll move my stuff after dinner,” he said. “We’re doing spaghetti and meatballs. Is that okay?”
Grace nodded. Pasta, caviar, anthrax, whatever. She doubted she’d be able to get much down, assuming she could stay awake that long. The three-hour time change and a ten-plus hour trip, changing planes twice, had worn her out. Her head throbbed, thinking of everything she had to get done. The house needed work, and from what she’d seen outside, the rest of the ranch was worse. Pile on top of that a ten-year-old kid and Noah hovering next door, dredging up old memories and ripping old wounds wide open. It was too much. How would she handle it all?
“There’s one more thing, Gracie.” Noah’s tone, tentative and laced with angst, demanded her focus. “It’s about JJ. He’s taking things pretty hard.”
“His mother and the only father he’s ever known are dead,” she said, blinking away the tears she felt welling. She wouldn’t cry, not in front of him. “You think I don’t realize how much that is to deal with?”
“I know you understand that. It’s JJ you don’t understand. He’s not very good with change. I’ve tried to tell him who you are; you know, explain things. I’m not sure he gets why you’re here.”
Her stomach muscles squeezed. Just as she suspected, her father and Sheila hadn’t told JJ anything about her. It shouldn’t have mattered, shouldn’t have hurt. It did, but she wouldn’t admit it to Noah. She straightened her shoulders. “He’s ten. That’s old enough to understand.”
“Maybe for most kids his age. But JJ has his own way of seeing the world.” Noah walked to the sink. He looked out the window and studied the gray sky.
“It sounds like you’re trying to tell me something’s wrong with him.”
“Not wrong, just different.” Noah turned, and his eyes locked on hers. “JJ has autism.”