Chapter Eighteen
When the rooster crowed the next morning, Gracie simply turned over and curled into Noah. He stared at the beautiful woman next to him. The woman who’d insisted it was too late for them. The woman who’d built a wall as tall as the California Redwoods around herself. The woman who planned to run back to New York because she wanted more than this land, more than this town. More than him.
That hadn’t been the woman in his bed last night.
He’d explored, tasted, touched every inch of her body, and she’d met him point for point, open and eager. And trusting. This morning he was physically exhausted and emotionally drained, and still he wanted more. He pulled her closer, spooning her back, snuggling in.
Waking up in the tangled bed sheets with Gracie was both amazing and alarming for the same reason: he still loved her—and he still didn’t know what the hell he was going to do about it.
Last night had changed everything. Hadn’t it? Then again, Gracie had told Noah she’d been trying to renegotiate the ranch for him, not them. He’d seen the surprise on her face when he said “our house.” But maybe that’s what had finally gotten through to her. Because the wall came down. His Gracie had come back, at least for one night. Could he convince her to make it more than one? Could he convince her to make it forever?
He slid out of bed, threw on his clothes, and grabbed his boots. He scratched his fingers through his hair as he tiptoed into the kitchen.
JJ came through the door with a basket of eggs. Noah froze. How would he explain his absence the last day and a half, and now his presence in the house this early?
The boy’s face broke into a large smile when he saw Noah. “You’re back.” JJ looked at Noah’s hand. “Why did you walk over without putting your boots on?”
Thank God for distractions.
“I guess I’m still sleepy. Want to ride down to the Stop-n-Gas with me to get some cinnamon buns? We can surprise Gracie.”
JJ put the eggs on the counter, then looked down at the floor, squirming in his tennis shoes. “If she likes this surprise, can we ask her if I can stay here, just for the summer? I…I can’t go now, Noah. I can’t, I can’t.” He started rocking.
Something had happened while Noah was camped out on Timmy’s floor for a night. Something big. Noah knelt in front of JJ. “Whoa, buddy. What’s wrong?”
JJ crossed his arms, still rocking, and didn’t look up. “Socks ran off. And then the men with the trailers came.” Fat tears ran down his cheeks. “To round up the horses. I don’t know if they got Socks or not. Or his band. I want to know. I need to know. And I need to be here if he returns. I might be the only friend he has left.”
Noah wanted to say yes, but what if Gracie had changed her mind? His heart thumped against his chest, telling him he was in dangerous territory.
It didn’t matter. JJ would stay no matter what. Hopefully, Gracie would, too. But regardless, Noah wasn’t letting go of JJ.
Noah took a deep breath. “Gracie and I’ve talked. You can stay here. With me. I mean, if that’s what you want.”
Without looking up, JJ barreled into Noah and wrapped his arms around him tight. “Y-y-yes.” He was sobbing now.
Noah hugged him, more sure of his decision than of anything else in his life. “Then it’s settled. Now let’s go get those cinnamon buns.”
“Wait.” JJ pulled back. “Gracie’s going back to New York by herself?”
Noah took in a sharp breath. That boy had no clue how sharp his arrows were. “Yeah.”
“Then we should build her a darkroom. I’ve been researching online. We can put it in the cottage, in the bedroom since it’s connected to the bathroom.”
“If she’s not here, why do we need a darkroom?”
JJ shook his head in irritation. “For when she visits.”
Visits. Of course if she left, she’d visit. How could Noah handle that woman coming and going, in and out of his life? What would that do to him? Would they be friends? Would they be something more every time they met? Would his heart break every time she left? And if he managed to move on and find someone else eventually—a repulsive thought—how would the visits work then?
Noah shook his head. Too many questions, not enough answers. “Hold on to your idea,” he said, raising a one-minute finger to JJ. He wrote a quick note to Gracie, in case she woke before they got back, then nudged JJ toward the door. “Let’s get the food. Tell me all about this darkroom in the car.”
JJ barely stopped talking to breathe the entire ride. Noah had to admit, the kid had done his homework. A lightproof room was doable. So were separate wet and dry areas. And finding used equipment on eBay was probably possible, too.
The only problem was that very soon the cottage wouldn’t be theirs anymore. Noah would have to tell JJ eventually. Just not today.
Mrs. Walters greeted them at the counter with a pot of coffee in hand. “Didn’t expect to see you boys this morning. And circles under your eyes to boot. Rain keep you up?”
“A little,” piped up JJ.
Mrs. Walters eyed Noah like she could tell exactly what had kept him up all night. She tsked. “A lot of that going around.” That woman’s sixth sense was off the charts.
“A lot of what?” Noah cleared his throat and leaned over the counter to rest on his elbows. He turned up his coffee cup, the universal sign for fill-me-up. “We’d like a half dozen cinnamon rolls to go.”
JJ twisted his face into a pout-plead.
“Okay, make that a dozen,” Noah said.
“With the cream cheese icing,” JJ said.
“Half with cream cheese, half with vanilla icing,” Noah corrected.
“Can I have some chocolate milk while we wait?” asked JJ.
“Sure can, sweetie.” Mrs. Walters smiled at him, then glanced back to Noah. “A lot of what, you ask? A lot of not sleeping. Sam was here practically all night. Rambling about this and that—you know how he gets when he drinks, and apparently, he stopped at a bar or two after leaving your place. Henry, the new night chef, drove him home a few minutes ago.” She filled up Noah’s coffee cup with unusual precision, waiting for a response.
Under normal circumstances, he’d change the subject, or at least try. But he was more interested in knowing what Sam had said than about saving his pride. “What was he rambling about this time? More stock market doom and gloom?” His questions almost sounded plausible, even to himself.
“It was about coins. Mostly.”
Noah perked up. “What do you mean?”
“Something about Grace and a collection of George’s coins. To hear him speak, a quite valuable collection.”
Noah took a gulp of coffee. Sam must have misunderstood. If Gracie’s father had a collection worth anything, Noah would’ve known about it. Gracie would’ve told him. Hell, George would’ve told him. He wouldn’t have risked losing his home.
“But you know how Sam is when he drinks.” Mrs. Walters patted Noah’s hand. “He says a bunch of hokey.” She winked at JJ. “Let me get you that chocolate milk, honey.”
True, most times Sam’s rambles were just that—incoherent babble. But sometimes they weren’t, like the time Sam had had an inside track on a buyout of some tech company. He’d been drunk that night. Everyone had thought he was just rambling.
The next day, the stock price shot through the roof.
…
Grace set the coffee to percolate and waited for her sanity to return. Last night had been wonderful. Last night had been mind-blowing. Last night had changed everything, beginning with Noah uttering those words: our house. My God, what was she going to do?
Nothing. Because one night of mind-blowing sex wasn’t enough to change anything. And it was totally mind-blowing, better now that they were more mature, more experienced. But it was just sex, nothing more.
It didn’t matter that he made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. It didn’t matter that her stomach did cartwheels every time he was near and that she looked forward to seeing him when he wasn’t. Or that she depended on him and trusted him, despite everything. No, none of that mattered, because she wanted more than this ranch, this town.
But more than Noah?
She took a deep breath of air and a deep gulp of logic. Her life wasn’t here anymore. She’d moved on. Still, she needed to help him before she left. She owed it, not to Noah, and certainly not to her father. She owed it to JJ. That boy had wormed his way into the core of her heart. But even if the paper was accurate, the coins wouldn’t fetch enough to both save the ranch and start her business with Ricky in New York. They needed to negotiate some sort of deal with the bank…with Sam. Noah’s interruption last night had most likely scrapped any chance of that.
Grace turned at the sound of the screen door opening and a cinnamon scent wafting through the air. “I smell something wonderful,” she said as JJ scooted in with the bag of booty and placed it on the table.
“We got cinnamon buns. Surprise.” JJ took a plate from the cupboard. “Cream cheese icing and vanilla.”
Grace walked out to the porch, coffee mug in hand, and watched Noah approach. Broad shoulders, sculpted arms, hard, lean thighs outlined in his tight jeans… All body parts she’d explored last night, inch by inch. Her cheeks flushed at the memories.
Dear Lord, she wanted to do it all again.
Noah climbed the porch stairs, leaned in, and lightly touched his lips to hers. A simple act, the gentlest caress. Her mind spun.
“These taste awesome,” JJ called from the kitchen.
“Better grab a bun quick,” Noah whispered in her ear.
She forced herself not to grab his butt. He raised one brow in a playful dare. He must’ve read her mind.
JJ barged through the screen door, a cinnamon roll in each hand. “One for you, Noah. And Gracie, one for you.”
“Thanks, honey.”
“Need a refill?” Noah asked, nodding to her coffee mug. She shook her head.
Grace sat on the porch swing and bit into the warm gooeyness as Noah went into the house for a cup of coffee. Her mind was a mess. Okay, Grace, one step at a time.
Had Noah been serious about sharing custody of JJ? She hoped so, though the idea didn’t bring the solace she’d thought it would. What was Noah thinking? Why would he agree to any custody, shared or otherwise? JJ wasn’t his responsibility. But it wasn’t like she was dumping JJ here. She’d visit, of course. As often as possible. Still, Noah would be raising him alone… Unless…
How would that work if Noah was dating someone, or worse, living with someone? As long as that someone wasn’t Nessie. Or anyone else Grace knew. Or anyone very pretty. Maybe joint custody was the way to go. School in Reno, and summers in New York—maybe Christmas, too.
She was running out of time. She had to figure this out. What the heck was wrong with her?
The answer, one of them, pushed its way out the screen door with an entire cinnamon bun shoved in his mouth. He opened his mouth and showed Grace a mouthful of chewed gunk.
“Nice. Did JJ teach you that?”
Noah winked. “I taught JJ.” He sat next to her, swallowing loudly.
“If you burp, I’m going to kick you off my swing.” How was this the same guy who’d made passionate love to her all night long? Men.
“We need to talk about last night, Gracie.”
He was right, but she wasn’t ready. “I know. Not now.”
He nodded and looked out into the fields. “JJ told me about Socks,” he finally said.
“First Socks fought with Big Gray and ran off, and then the horses got rounded up. JJ wigged out. He needed you here.” I needed you here. “Where were you?” Grace took in a breath and held it. Please not Nessie’s.
“I needed time to think. I stayed at Timmy’s.”
She let out the breath. “I was worried.”
His brows furrowed, like he was trying to decide if he believed her. “JJ’s still shook up,” Noah said, changing the subject. “He wants to find Socks. He’s worried about not being here.” He glanced around the ranch and then settled his gaze back on her. “I told him that he could stay, that we’d worked it out.”
So it was a done deal, assuming the judge agreed. JJ would stay with Noah. That was good. One less decision to make. One less responsibility. But instead of relief, she felt empty. No, worse—like she had a gaping hole in her chest.
Noah covered her hand with his. “I was wrong to leave like I did, and I should have called,” he said, apparently misinterpreting the pain in her face. “I’m sorry.”
Simple. Direct. A feather knocking off her armor. She was sorry, too. About her father and his father and JJ. And the past seven years. Tell him about the coins, Grace. No, not until she knew they were the real deal, and not until she’d figured out a new plan, a how-to-make-everyone-happy plan.
He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. This time, it felt like he was referring to more than the last two days.
She nodded but didn’t look up. “Me, too.”