There was always something fascinating happening behind Aaron’s movie star mask. Always. But she’d never sensed resignation in him. Never seen the relentless wheels behind his eyes stall and spin in the dirt, as they appeared to be doing now. I wish wanting something was enough, baby. Until he’d said those words, Grace would have sworn nothing could make her wish the date were over before it started. So she could be one-on-one with Aaron, warm flesh pressing together, listening to his ragged breaths, hearing his groaned truths in her ear. That was when his walls officially came down. She knew that now. And while tonight he was treating her like some long-lost princess who deserved the date of her life, she only wanted the experience with Aaron totally present.
Grace curled her fingers in the neckline of Aaron’s shirt, ready to tug the material for his attention, but he released her. She slid down his body a split second before they were bathed in warm, yellow light. Above her head, Aaron’s hand pushed open the barn door,¸ violin music coiling in the air around Grace, forcing her to turn around.
Her lungs imprisoned the breath she tried to draw. How? How had she lived mere miles from this place and never known of its existence? Strings of twinkling white lights were strung from the rafters, swaying in the breeze they’d generated by opening the door. The scents of pine and cinnamon beckoned her into the warm interior, her feet moving involuntarily. People were everywhere. Locals, obviously, wearing their familiarity with one another like snuggly sweaters. Hands were being shaken. Hugs given. Pieces of pie being passed around. Oh, and there was dancing. The music’s tempo had picked up at their entrance, almost on cue, drawing couples to the makeshift dance floor, where fathers spun around their daughters, the older guests regarding them fondly. On the opposite side of the barn, women handed out desserts, granting huge dollops of whipped cream and ladling cider.
A few people sent curious glances in Grace and Aaron’s direction, but their expressions couldn’t have been more welcoming. And when Grace’s attention landed on an older woman in an Iowans Do It in the Field apron, she knew it was Sylvia. Especially when the woman dropped the stack of Styrofoam plates in her hand, face breaking into a smile when she saw Aaron.
“You brought her!” Aaron bent down so the petite woman could throw her arms around his neck. “I was half worried you might cave to the peer pressure and take her out for…I don’t know…beer.” She gave ladylike gag. “Well, let me see her.”
Aaron settled an arm around Grace’s shoulders, pulling her into his side, and Grace tucked the sensation of belonging to someone away for a rainy day. “Sylvia.” He paused, looking down to run his gaze over her. “This is Grace.”
“Such a lovely name,” Sylvia said warmly. “And the beauty to match.”
Grace managed to tear her attention away from Aaron’s rapt expression long enough to shake the woman’s hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.” She gestured to the barn as a whole. “I never knew this was here.”
“Well.” Sylvia leaned in with a wink. “We like to keep it quiet. Just friends and family, once a year. But my mother started the tradition, so I get to invite whoever I darn well please.”
“Lucky for us,” Aaron murmured, dropping a kiss onto the top of Grace’s head. “The place looks great.”
“Oh, as if you’ve looked away from Grace long enough to spare it a glance.” Sylvia laughed, splitting a thrilled look between Grace and Aaron. “Now, listen. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to put a cup of hot cider in each of your hands, and Aaron, you’re going to take Grace out back through the grove. Remember? We talked about this.”
“I remember,” Aaron responded with a solemn nod. “We’re ready when you are.”
As soon as Sylvia was out of earshot, Grace made a wistful sound. “Are we really going back out so soon? This place is incredible.” She braced her throat with a hand. “It’s awful that I don’t know anyone here. This is my hometown.”
“Now you know Sylvia. That’s a good start.” Aaron pushed one of the red ribbons out of her face. “You should come back next year.”
Grace didn’t have time to wonder about the hollowness to Aaron’s voice. A group of locals in Rudolph and Frosty sweaters approached, recognizing Aaron from television and asking about the progress of the camp. To her surprise, Aaron labeled Grace the expert on all things YouthAspire and let her update them. At first, her words were stilted, but their encouraging smiles and Aaron’s arm across her shoulders made it easy quickly enough.
Somewhere along the way, she began to flat out enjoy herself. Watching the children bob for apples and being asked to settle a tie, sharing a piece of pecan pie with Aaron, listening to a grandfather tell stories about the first annual jamboree, back when he’d been a child. By the time Sylvia found them again, Grace’s sides hurt from laughing…although the awareness of Aaron’s proximity never left her. How could it when he didn’t take his eyes off her once, as far as she could tell?
Sylvia pressed fresh cups of cider into their hands and cocked an eyebrow as if to say, Ready? Without waiting for their nods, she shuffled them through the parting crowd of curious onlookers toward the barn’s back exit. After a dramatic pause and an audible exhale, Sylvia slid open the groaning door. And if Grace thought she’d been taken off guard by the glowing, holiday-happy barn, nothing compared to her internal reaction to the grove.
Magic lay in front of her. No other description fit the winding path, surrounded by ancient trees, covered top to bottom in lights. Every single color she could fathom, seemingly in every shade. Reds, greens, pinks, blues. A couple of laughing children ran down beneath the overhanging branches, but apart from them, the snowy walkway was deserted.
“Aaron?”
His hand smoothed back and forth along the small of her back. “Yeah?”
Grace couldn’t look away from the glow. “I think you broke another rating scale.” Unable to stand still a moment longer, Grace reached for Aaron’s hand, twining their fingers together. They walked side by side into the grove, the cold somehow less biting within the trees’ embrace. Even their breath seemed to remain in the air longer, hanging there, like white spun sugar. Behind them, the barn door slid shut, muffling the party sounds, but leaving them the gentle cries of violin strings. There was a rush underneath the wind, as if there were a rollicking stream nearby, even though if one existed, it would surely be frozen.
Before she could get too far, Aaron pulled her to a stop, taking her cider and setting it down on the path’s edge, along with his own. “I don’t dance, Grace.” He contradicted his words by stepping so close she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact. Placing one hand on her hip, he clasped the other against his shoulder. They started to sway in a slow circle, not a breath of air separating them.
If it were possible for someone to explode, shooting rainbows and unicorns in every direction, that’s what Grace would have done as they danced beneath the ethereal tree light to string music. “If you don’t dance, what do you call this?”
“An illusion.” There was a smile in his voice. “We’re not actually dancing right now. You’re imagining the whole thing.”
“I see.” She pressed her lips together to hold in a laugh. “I have been told I let my imagination run away with me. So…what are we actually doing?”
Aaron’s lips glided over the knuckles of her lifted hand, along the seam of their combined grip. “You’re the one with the imagination. I’d rather you decide.”
With a big inhale of Aaron’s unique scent, Grace closed her eyes and let her mind drift. And in such a fairy-tale setting, it wasn’t hard to do. “Maybe we’re really playing hide and seek with those kids. But they can’t find us, because we climbed to the top of the highest tree.”
“And now we’re stuck. We can’t ever come down.”
Grace allowed her lids to lift. “See, you have an imagination, too.”
She could see that playfulness trying to break through in Aaron…and he let it. That was the most extraordinary part—Aaron giving up the fight. He laid his mouth on her temple and continued to sway her. “We wouldn’t have to come down. I’d build you a tower up in the sky.” His lips quirked against her. “We’d let your hair grow until I could use the ribbons to climb down and get supplies. Like ice cream and toothpaste.”
“And dog food for Old Man.”
Aaron’s low laugh shifted the strands of her hair. “I’m making a mental note to put a doggie door on this sky tower.”
“Perfect,” she murmured, feeling weightless. “After that, all we’d need is time.”
But the comfort slowly dissipated when she connected with Aaron’s stare. It was penetrating, possibly a little agonized, and once again Grace got the distinct feeling Aaron was holding on to something important. Watching her closely, he eased Grace back into a dip, bending her so far, the tips of her hair trailed on the snowy ground. No sooner had Aaron pulled her back up than their mouths were hovering, so close, so very close, mutual heavy breaths making their mark on the air. “Grace, I…”
“Yes?” she whispered when he didn’t continue.
“What do you want to do? In the future?” He gave a quick headshake, as if he knew the formality of the question was unworthy of the moment. “Do you have…plans?”
She wanted to demand to be let inside his head, but in the short time since meeting Aaron, she’d learned to trust her gut. And her gut was telling her not to push. That patience would be rewarded quicker. “I never got a chance to decide. My father decided to run for president, and it’s been all about the campaign since I left Austin. But now I think I’m finally getting breathing room.” As they turned in a slow circle, Grace stared at the myriad colors being cast down on the snow. “I want to stay here until the camp gets up and running, then I want to move on.”
They stopped moving. “Move on where?”
“I don’t know.” She smiled, thinking of the possibilities behind those three words. “Places I’m needed. Places I can help. They’re everywhere.” She’d always thought stating those dreams out loud would feel more like soaring, but while being held in Aaron’s arms…maybe it was premature, but there was more than just herself to consider now. Their paths might not be destined to intersect beyond the foreseeable future in Iowa, but pretending she didn’t hope they did? She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t lie by omission. “But right now, you’re here—”
“Shit. Grace, I can’t do this.” His arms dropped from around her in favor of plowing through his hair, leaving the cold to rush in from all sides. “I don’t know what I was thinking, keeping this until the end of the night.”
“What?” Grace managed around the claw of dread sinking into her jugular. “Keep what?”
Aaron stared down the path for a few heavy beats. “Your father is sending me to New York earlier than expected.” Their gazes met, wind rushing through the gap separating them. “Tomorrow morning.”
Around Grace, the colors whirled with a kaleidoscope effect. “Tomorrow? But the camp—”
“Yeah, I screwed myself there, didn’t I? Set it up so well, pretty much anyone can walk in and run the rebuild. I made myself obsolete.”
Grace realized her hands were twisting the material of her coat, and with an effort, she pried them free. She’d thought they had a couple of weeks together before he left to fulfill his mother’s wish in New York. So shortsighted of her. Of course her father would want him in New York sooner, where he’d set up Pendleton campaign headquarters. Their poll numbers had gone through the roof since Aaron arrived, and he would be most efficient around more cameras. More people and action. But another more undesirable notion occurred, knocking the remaining wind out of Grace’s sails. “He’s not sending you away because of me, is he?”
His massaged the center of his forehead. “Yes. That’s part of it.” Grace almost buckled under the reality of her father’s interference—once again—in her life. This time, grinning and bearing wouldn’t be possible. There was something big between herself and Aaron and cutting it short…it scared her. She was scared. Aaron interrupted her train of thought by capturing her chin, lifting. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how much.” Eyes burning, his hand fell away. “I need to get you home.”
Disbelief plowed into her midsection. “Already?”
A muscle moved in his cheek. “I must not be as big a bastard as I thought.” He took her hand, but made no move to leave. “I can’t sleep with you tonight, knowing full well I’ll be on the road while you’re still in bed tomorrow morning. It doesn’t feel right, hippie. Not with you.”
He started to tug her up the path, but she resisted. “And you can’t finish our date, either?”
“No. I can’t,” Aaron grated. “This was a bad idea. Every second I stand here with you, I’m making it harder to walk away. You’re—God, look at you. You’re brighter than the fucking lights and I have to drive away. More than that, I should be happy about it. This campaign job was the only thing I cared about until now.”
She absorbed that. “I’ve ruined you.”
“No. Never.” He turned her hand over in his palm, scrutinizing each of her fingers in turn. “But there’s no way of being sure that I wouldn’t ruin you. And, Jesus, as much as I’m dying to take you somewhere and taste you all over, to hold you through the night…” He paused to release a shaky exhale. “I’ll feel twice as fucked up over leaving. I’m leaving, Grace. And maybe it’s a good thing we won’t have the chance to find out how you and I would have played out.”
Grace’s blood had slowed during his words, making her feel light-headed. “Do you believe that?”
“No,” he whispered. “Fuck no, I don’t believe that.”
What were her options here? To beg him not to leave Iowa? Ask him to travel around the country, sleeping on cots, living one day at a time, as she’d always dreamed of doing? Aaron was no more suited to that life than she was cut out for life on the campaign trail. Or the fast-paced, high-powered New York beat. There was so much in store for Aaron there. He was already taking the political scene by storm, rising to fame, along with the poll numbers he commanded at will. Furthermore, Aaron hadn’t asked her to come to New York. It was an option that didn’t exist, so why was she thinking about it, instead of living the way she’d chosen? Living for the moments, because they were what counted. They were what would be remembered.
“You’re treating me like I can’t think for myself again.”
Aaron did a double take. “How so?”
Until she’d said the words, Grace hadn’t realized the truth behind them. How his white glove treatment scalded her pride. Or maybe it was her fear of waking up tomorrow and not experiencing what Aaron made her feel. Whatever the reason for her sudden surge in determination, she had no choice but to go with it, because a giant sinkhole had opened in her stomach, sucking away her ability to be rational. Leaving. He’s leaving. “You’re assuming I can’t handle our last night together.” She tipped back her head to stare into the lights. “You think I’ll fall apart any more or any less tomorrow if it’s on the heels of us sleeping together? Well, I won’t. I’ll probably miss you the same amount, no matter what.” Her breath sailed out in a trail of white. “A lot. I’m going to miss you a lot.”
“Grace…” She heard him swallow. “I didn’t even know I was capable of missing anything until I found out I was leaving you. I haven’t even packed yet and I’m…panicked.” He massaged his chest. “I think. I don’t know what missing someone is supposed to feel like. Sharp? Huge? It’s a Grace ache. It won’t stop. But—”
“My father is right to send you away from me?” she interrupted. “If that’s what you’re going to say, please don’t.”
His gaze cut to the side. “All right. I won’t.”
Her body reacted to the misery in his voice, a painful throb forming in several vital regions. Center of her chest, mainly. But also the spot where her thighs joined. God, she didn’t want their last memory together to be cast in sadness or resentment. She’d pictured their date ending in a tangle of straining bodies, wet kissing, moaning. If she’d had some time to prepare, maybe she could have trailed a finger down his stomach and suggested they end the night the best way, like a worldly woman might. Which she clearly was not, because her body was shaking under the weight of Aaron’s good-bye.
Grace felt for one of the ribbons in her hair, rubbing the silk material, praying for her elusive maturity to return. The longer she stood there, the more guilt she heaped on Aaron for following his dream, building his career. A career he was born to excel in. She was being selfish wanting him to stay behind and…build her a tower. Live there with her forever. But she could have tonight. He’d obviously wanted to give her one more night, hadn’t he? Before his chivalry had kicked in?
Yes. Maybe if she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough while Aaron moved inside her body, she could remember it with perfect, punching clarity. Hold on to it always. He wanted that memory, too; she just needed to remind him how much.
“Okay,” she breathed, surprised her motor skills were functioning well enough to hold out her hand. “Take me home.”
Aaron didn’t move for long moments, staring at her from beneath the darkness of his furrowed brows. Just as Grace readied to drop her hand, Aaron latched on and walked her back up the path. In tacit agreement, they bypassed the barn, crunching through the heavier drifts of snow on the barn’s perimeter. Hearing the sounds of joy emanating from within only made the journey harder, if such a thing were possible.
They reached the Suburban, and too quickly, Grace was forced to let go of Aaron’s hand. He unlocked the passenger’s side door, gripping her elbow and guiding her into the seat, before extending an arm across the console to start the Suburban’s ignition, unlock the doors, and get the heat running. After that, silence fell like heavy theater curtains, only growing denser when Aaron made no move toward the driver’s side. He always loomed in his largeness, his overwhelming energy, but as he stared down at Grace, he was massive. Unavoidable. And when he reached across her body to lock in the seatbelt she’d neglected to engage herself, she couldn’t hold in the effect of having him so close, so desolate.
As if they moved on their own, Grace’s hands lifted, palms curving along the shape of Aaron’s cheeks, moving down to his jaw, back up. His gruff curse pierced the quiet, his lids falling to hide his eyes. His endurance of her touch didn’t last long, though, his masculine hands finding her face, thumbs sliding along her cheekbones, along the bridge of her nose, the curve of her upper lip. All without looking, as if he might be cataloging Grace’s features and didn’t want the power of sight detracting from touch.
“I don’t know why, but…” Aaron eased closer, wrapping Grace in his warmed scent. “I’m so fucking worried that when I think of you, I’ll think of you huddled on the closet floor after I said those horrible things. But that shouldn’t be. Not after I’ve watched you dance in the snow and…moan underneath me.” His fingers raked into her hair from the bottom of her skull, letting loose a flood of tingles down her back. “I think maybe I want to stay fucked up over this. I think that’s why I won’t think of you and be happy. The pain will mean you were real.”
“That’s either the best or worst thing you could say to me.” His laughter dropped like a boulder into the crook of Grace’s neck, followed by a heavy inhale. She could feel the effort it cost Aaron to keep his touch above her neck, and every moment of that struggle was met by a growing one, low in her own belly. “When I think of you, you’ll be climbing up to our tower in the sky, ice cream in hand. That’s the real you.”
His grip flexed in her hair. “That guy is going to vanish when you’re not around to see him.”
“No. He was there before I came along. He’ll be there after.” Grace turned her head, bringing her mouth up against Aaron’s ear, a deep, male groan warming her neck at the brushing of lips and lobe. “He could be there tonight, moving inside me.”
Grace felt the rough shift in Aaron happen. Finally. His abdomen was hollowing and shuddering against her stomach, his energy tightening like a bolt. With that change in Aaron’s intention, her lungs filled, relief and rightness and arousal clamoring in from all corners. She didn’t want him to remember her on the closet floor. She didn’t want their parting to be sad. In fact, she refused. Moments. Something told her there had never been more important ones to capture.
One of Aaron’s hands remained in her hair, but the other had fallen to her knee, his breath beginning to pelt her neck, ear, shoulder. “No. No, I think I’m already losing whoever you think I am, Grace.” His hand coasted up her thigh. “That other guy knows he should take you home and leave you with a good-bye kiss on the cheek. But me…” He cupped her feminine flesh, pressing the heel of his hand against her mound with a harsh sound. “That guy wants to fuck you in the backseat.”