When Grant arrived at Maurie’s house the next morning, another car was parked in her driveway. It had snowed overnight, and the tire treads from the car were already filled in with white flakes. He assumed the car belonged to Maurie’s friend Taffy. When he knocked on the door a minute later, it opened to a blonde woman.
She was a petite woman with a huge smile. “You must be Grant.”
“Yes, and you must be Taffy.”
She laughed. This woman seemed pretty peppy, if he were to go on his first impression.
“Come on in,” she said. “I’ve got the coffee on.” Then she gave him a wink.
Grant wasn’t sure exactly how to take her instant friendliness. He’d met this woman all of ten seconds ago.
“Maurie slept in.” Taffy continued their one-sided conversation, leading the way into the kitchen. “She’ll be out in a minute. She was up half the night looking at those blasted photo albums of her grandparents. I told her not to, but would she listen to me? No. Now she’ll be all weepy today.”
“Weepy?” Grant felt as if the breath had gone out of him. Should he not have brought the albums down from the attic?
“Well, don’t tell her I told you anything.” Taffy stopped in the middle of the kitchen and turned to survey him. Her scrutiny was quite thorough. “But Maurie has worked really hard to get over her crappy childhood. And I don’t want those albums to send her back to that dark place, if you know what I mean?”
She didn’t give Grant time to respond but moved to the counter and pulled out mugs from the cupboard. Not that he knew exactly what to say.
“I’m so glad you’re renovating this place,” Taffy continued. “It looks like a dump, and that can’t be good for Maurie’s morale either.”
Grant opened his mouth to speak, but then the coffee timer went off.
“Perfect.” Taffy flashed him a stunning smile over her shoulder.
If Grant were into talkative blondes, he might find her fairly attractive. But he already knew his thoughts were otherwise occupied with a dark-haired lady, if his restless sleep last night was any indication.
Taffy poured the fragrant coffee into the mugs. “Don’t tell Maurie, but I made this straight-up black. You can add some sugar or cream if you’d like. Maurie likes to add flavors and other fancy stuff.” She waved to a row of bottles lined up on the counter that Grant hadn’t seen the day before.
“Black is fine,” he said, taking the steaming mug.
Taffy grinned at him in a familiar way that left him wondering if there was some inside joke he was missing.
He took a careful sip of the hot liquid.
Taffy was still watching him. “Well, look at you. All handsome and rugged.”
He nearly spat out the sip he’d taken.
“What?” she said in an innocent tone.
Was she flirting, or did she just think he was her instant best friend? He could imagine her working at a trucker’s diner, calling everyone “hon” or “sweetheart.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said.
She took a slow sip of her coffee, her gaze locked on him. “I’m sure you know what you look like, Grant Shelton. And you probably have a lot of ladies in your back pocket.”
Grant blinked. “Uh.” How did one even respond to that? The coffee was suddenly way too bitter. And he was not in the least prepared for this woman’s onslaught. He’d lived long enough to know that it needed to stop, now. “Taffy? Can I call you Taffy?”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “Of course.”
“Look, I’m not sure what your intentions are, but I can assure you that I’m not a player.” He paused. “And we’re not hooking up.”
Taffy’s eyes practically bugged out as she raised her brows. And then she burst out laughing.
Grant couldn’t move. This was perhaps the strangest and nuttiest woman he’d ever met. She also hadn’t spilled a drop of her coffee despite her outburst.
She lifted a finger to point at him, still laughing so hard she could barely speak. Then she finally said, “You’re a gem, Grant Shelton. You have my one-hundred-and-ten-percent approval.”
“Taffy!” A voice came from the hallway. Maurie’s.
“Uh-oh.” Taffy ran a finger over her lips as if she were zipping them closed. She gave Grant another wink.
Seconds later Maurie joined them in the kitchen. “What are you telling him, Taffy?”
Maurie placed her hands on her hips, and Grant noted that she looked as if she’d just tumbled out of bed. Not that he was complaining. Her fitted T-shirt had a row of Z’s on it, stretching across her chest, and her pajama bottoms hung low on her hips, exposing a couple of inches of skin. Definitely not complaining.
“And what are you feeding him?” Maurie strode up to Grant, took the mug from him, and sniffed. “Not in my kitchen.”
Grant watched in disbelief as she crossed to the kitchen sink and proceeded to pour out the coffee.
“Wait,” Grant said. “I was drinking that.” What was up with these two women?
Taffy laughed, her gaze zeroing in on Grant. “You’re on your own, sugar.” She moved past him, trailed her finger along his arm, then sashayed out of the kitchen, still holding her mug. “I’ll be in my room, processing orders,” she called. “Let me know when lunch is ready.”
Taffy paused at the edge of the hallway. “Oh, and Maurie, he’s all yours.” Then she was gone.
Grant rubbed a hand over his face. What had just happened? Taffy’s bedroom door clicked, and seconds later, music began playing.
Slowly, he looked over at Maurie.
“What did she say to you?” Maurie asked, her green eyes completely focused on him.
“What didn’t she say to me?”
Maurie’s eyes widened. “That bad?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it bad, but certainly educational.”
Maurie scoffed, then she picked up the can of instant coffee and dumped it into the trash. “I can only imagine. Just know that Taffy’s her own person, and there’s no use trying to change her.” She said all this with affection in her tone, then she pulled out a bag of roasted coffee beans from the cupboard.
Grant watched her movements for a moment, trying not to ogle her, because he was remembering what Taffy had said about Maurie being weepy.
Maurie didn’t seem upset, just ... underdressed.
“Hey, are you all right?” he asked in a soft voice. “Taffy said you had a rough night.”
Maurie stilled, her back toward him. “She said that?”
“Yeah.”
Maurie turned. “Sorry about Taffy. She can be a bit ... transparent.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Grant said. “But I’m not talking about Taffy. What about you?”
Maurie leaned against the counter and looked down at her feet. Grant hadn’t seen this side of her, or at least he hadn’t for ten years—the quiet girl with a lot on her mind.
“She told you about the albums, didn’t she?” Maurie said.
“Yes.” He crossed to the counter and leaned against it a couple of feet from her.
Maurie shrugged. “I had a pretty rotten childhood, which you know. But there were good times, too ... when I was a little kid mostly, although I was too young to remember.” She glanced over at him. “Those albums showed me what might have been, I suppose. If my grandparents had lived longer and my mom hadn’t gone off the deep end.”
“Maurie, look, I’m really sorry,” he started. “I—”
She held up a hand. “It’s all in the past, and—” Her voice cut off. And when she spoke again, it was trembling. “I’ve been lucky in many ways, but I wish that my dad hadn’t left and that my mom could have been stronger.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes.
“Hey,” he said in a soft voice. He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And Grant had to admit that she fit there perfectly.
He hated that she was hurting so much. And he hated that there was nothing he could do to fix it. Maurie wasn’t like a house that could be fixed up with a hammer and nails. Grant rubbed her back as she sniffled. After a moment, he became aware of other things about Maurie. The warmth of her skin, the tickle of her hair against his chin, the flutter of her pulse. And although she’d just woken up, she smelled sweet, like chocolate and peppermint… Perhaps she’d had her gourmet hot chocolate this morning already.
The thought made him smile.
Her breathing steadied, and her trembling subsided. He started to relax more because she was relaxing. He felt the change in her body as she took a few deep, calming breaths. His own temperature had warmed up considerably where they’d touched, and his heart was beating a steady thud.
He should release her. Soon. Her smell and her touch were intoxicating, and his mind was wandering way off course. Space between them would be good. Inch by inch, they separated, but she kept her hands at his waist when she looked up at him, her smile tremulous. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Grant gazed into her green eyes, her lashes damp with tears. They were only inches apart, yet he craved to be closer again. He hadn’t wanted their embrace to end, which was ridiculous, because he hardly knew Maurie. Just because she was in distress and had let him hold her, that didn’t mean that there was something more between them. While he talked himself out of pulling her into his arms again, he realized he did know Maurie. More than he should admit. And none of his current thoughts were exactly platonic.
“Thanks for listening, Grant. You’re a good man.” She lifted up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
Her scent swept over him again, and his skin tingled where she’d pressed her warm mouth.
“Maurie,” he said, grasping her hand to stop her from pulling away too soon.
She stilled, her gaze meeting his. Her breathing seemed rapid, and he couldn’t help but focus on her parted lips.
“I always wondered what happened to you over the years,” he said.
She seemed to move a fraction closer, or was that his imagination? Her fingers threaded through his, and a warm shiver spread up his arm.
“I wondered about you too,” she said softly, almost a whisper. She’d stopped crying, but her eyes were luminescent with her tears. “I had a huge crush on you.”
When she smiled, Grant smiled back. His heart sounded like a freight train in his ears. He had to tell her. He couldn’t stand her gazing at him as if he was some sort of nice guy. She had to know the truth about her last night in Pine Valley.
“Maurie, I always wanted to get to know you better,” he said. “Being a teenager was complicated, and you were like a shadow who came and went. Sometimes I hoped when I did yard work at your house that you’d come out and talk to me.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
He chuckled. “Of course. I’d wait for your mom to leave, and then I’d come over. For some reason I couldn’t bring myself to knock on your door and talk to you.” This was it; the time was now. “Maurie, I need to—”
She stopped him.
Maurie wrapped her arms around his neck, then she pressed her mouth against his and kissed him. Sensation burst through him, and Grant forgot all reservations. He cradled her face with his hands, angling his mouth over hers. She tasted sweet, just as he knew she would.
Maurie’s fingers moved into his hair, and she kissed him with unexpected depth and passion, as if she’d been waiting to kiss him for a while. He knew he had been waiting to kiss her. The music coming from the back bedroom echoed the rhythm of his hammering heart.
Grant backed her up against the counter and continued to kiss her, taking the lead. Maurie practically melted into him. Her hands were in his hair, then on his shoulders, then clutching at his shirt.
He had to slow things down. Right now.
He broke off their kissing. “Wow,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers, trying to calm his breathing.
Her eyes were still closed. “Yeah, wow,” she whispered.
Grant didn’t want to release her. He wanted more. But it wasn’t the right time or place or ... “I think I need to get to work,” he said.
She opened her eyes, and he saw something akin to happiness there. So much better than her tears.
“Too hot in the kitchen?” she asked with a half smile.
“Yeah.” He traced his fingers along her jaw, and she closed her eyes again. “Mind if I open a couple of windows?”
Maurie nodded.
“Okay.” He leaned down again and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Dinner tonight?”
“Sure.”
“Without Taffy?”
“Hey, she’s my friend.” Maurie slid her hands down his arms, then squeezed his hands before letting him go. “Dinner sounds great.”