Chapter Seven
“You all must be exhausted and starved after all that traveling.” Doris Powers set a platter of egg salad sandwiches on the large wooden table in her kitchen, which reminded Niki of the set of countless old black-and-white TV shows.
Niki wasn’t about to argue. Aside from the fact that Grant’s mother had the height of an Amazon, she happened to be correct. “I could eat.” Niki took a seat next to Grant.
When their flight had landed in Newburgh, she’d assumed their journey was almost over. Little had she known what would follow was an hour-long station wagon trip over hilly backroads to the family’s farm, in an area so sparsely populated that one could probably shoot a missile launcher without fear of hitting a neighbor.
Niki took a sandwich. The eggs were the yellowest she’d ever seen. Her first bite was heaven. “Is this bread homemade?”
Grant’s father gave her a wide smile. “Doris won’t abide store-bought bread. Do you bake, Niki?”
She thought about the slice-and-bake cookies she’d whipped up for her last contribution to a family party. “Occasionally.”
“Pete, don’t put her on the spot.” Doris set a glass pitcher of milk on the table.
“That’s fresh from the cow in the barn,” Grant’s grandfather said, pride shining in his eyes, which were the same mossy green as his grandson’s.
Grant filled a cup then offered it to her. “Things are a little different here.”
Niki passed on the milk. “I see that.”
Doris wiped down the counter. “Niki, would you like to help me do the baking for Sunday’s anniversary party? I’ve got the gelatin salads finished, and Pete will barbecue the hog that morning before we head over to the VFW hall.”
The hog? Yikes. “Um…I can help with that and the party details.”
Grant took Niki’s hand under the table. “I want to show Niki around, Mom, and take her hiking.”
“Show her Mill’s Pond Bridge.” His grandmother elbowed his grandfather. “That’s where Herb kissed me for the first time almost sixty-two years ago. It’s a magical place for people in love.”
His grandfather nodded. “That’s right. And I still kiss her every chance I get.”
“Aw.” Niki’s chest constricted. The elderly couple was the most adorable pair she’d seen in ages.
Grant cleared his throat. “Niki and I are just friends, Grandma.”
“That’s because you haven’t walked through Mill’s Pond Bridge yet,” she said.
Shaking his head, Grant pushed away from the table. “Niki, whenever you’re through eating, we can go.”
Catching his not-so-subtle drift that he wanted to get out of there in a hurry, she shoved the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth. “I’m ready.” She picked up her plate and Grant’s and carried them to the sink.
Following him out the back door, she took in the vast expanse of rolling hills, the checkerboard farmlands, and in the distance, a densely wooded mountain. To the right of the fields was a small barn with several fenced pens and something that looked like a shed.
Breathing in, she smelled fresh-cut grass and several kinds of herbs and flowers. “This is so beautiful.”
“Nothing like Miami, is it? Not a high-rise in sight.” She couldn’t help but notice that he seemed a little ill at ease waiting for her answer. He leaned against the fence surrounding the horses’ paddock, staring off into the distance.
“Grant. Grant.” She waited until he turned to face her before continuing. “Your farm looks like something out of a postcard. It’s lovely. Really.”
Something loosened between his shoulder blades, and she practically watched some of the tension flow out of him. “You like it?”
“I like it.” She glanced toward the barn. “Can we go see the animals?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Ever been around any livestock up close? They don’t smell very good.”
“How much worse can it be than scooping Sarge’s litter box?”
He snorted. “You have no idea. Even Sarge and his love for tuna can’t compete with a barn full of farm animals.”
She waved away his concern. “Cows aren’t supposed to smell like perfume. And I love horses. They’re so cute. My Uncle Clyde took Lucy to ride a pony when we were kids, but he said I was too little.” She’d wanted to get on one ever since.
He stood and scratched his head. “Okay. We only keep two horses, but we could ride around the property. You should probably change first, though.”
She glanced down at her cute ankle boots and white denim shorts. She knew better than to wear sandals on a farm, but it was pretty warm out. Besides, she’d been waiting her whole life to get on a horse. She didn’t want to waste time changing her clothes. “Nah, this’ll be fine.”
He smirked. “Trust me. You’ll regret it.”
“I promise I won’t blame you if my shorts get dirty.”
“Dirty can be fun.” A corner of his incredible mouth turned up in a knowing smile, and she suddenly felt desperate to know exactly what kind of dirty he had in mind.
She imagined dripping chocolate sauce over his washboard abs, then going south from there. Her pulse sped up as she pictured herself licking all that gooey goodness off his skin. God, she’d come on this trip to shut this whole thing between them down, not turn it up to scorching.
She spun on her heel and turned toward the barn, inhaling deeply. Even with the sexual tension thick in the air, she hadn’t felt this relaxed since…their last movie night. In fact, all of her fun, laid back times lately happened with Grant, because of Grant. And seeing him here, in his element, gave her a better understanding of why he wanted to return.
Maybe the country wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.
Or maybe she was just so bamboozled by Grant she thought it wasn’t as bad as she thought.
Minutes later in the barn, he handed her his mom’s riding helmet. “Mane and reins,” he said as he gave her a boost onto a gray nag named Ashes. She grabbed on as he instructed and settled in.
After getting her situated, he adjusted his stirrups and climbed onto Molly, the other horse. “Feels good to be back in the saddle.”
“Isn’t that an Aerosmith song?” Niki asked.
There went that half smile again. “About something other than horseback riding, I think.” Oh, yeah, he was definitely thinking dirty.
She felt herself flush clear to the roots of her hair, and it was pure heat, not embarrassment. “Guess I’ll have to pay closer attention to the lyrics next time.” She looked left and right. Barely smothering a grin, she said, “I’m missing something.”
Grant shrugged. “What?”
“A whip.”
“Aren’t you the vegetarian, no-cruelty, animal-loving, tree-hugging one?” he asked.
“It isn’t for the horse,” she teased.
“Naughty girl.” He steered his horse ahead of hers, but she kept pace, even got hers to follow right in line.
“This isn’t so hard.” She sat straight and tall in the saddle, genuinely proud of herself for catching on to the whole riding thing so quickly.
“No, but all this whip talk might get me there, and I’m not even into that.”
“Ha-ha.”
After fifteen or twenty minutes, they came to a stream and let the horses get a drink. On the way back, they went a different way, past maple and willow trees, the type of beautiful, hilly scenery Niki rarely saw in Florida, which was mostly flat as a swampy pancake.
“Is this all your family’s property?” she asked Grant.
“Most of it.” He looked over his shoulder at her as the horses walked. “We used to have more. My parents have downsized in recent years.”
When she saw a low branch ahead of him, she gasped. “Duck, Grant!”
He did, and managed to narrowly miss getting knocked off of his horse. “Whoa, girl.” He tugged on the reins. “Damn, Niki. I could have broken my collarbone or worse. Thanks.”
She walked her horse next to his and stopped her. “You’re welcome.”
Just then, her horse suddenly shied to the right, obviously spooked by something, and then bucked. Niki lost her balance and tumbled off, falling directly into a puddle of mud. She landed hard on her butt. Moisture seeped through her shorts. An awful stench surrounded her. “Oh, God. I think I’m sitting in cow shit.”
“Are you okay?” Grant dismounted and ran over to help her up.
She did a quick assessment of her body. Her butt was a little sore, her wrist hurt a little, but she was otherwise fine. “Just bruised, I think.”
“Yup, that would be cow shit.”
Twisting to see the back of her shorts, she huffed. “I guess you were right about my wardrobe choice.” The rear of her formerly white shorts was completely brown. And her cute boots no longer had the appeal they did a minute before.
As they rode back to the barn, she tried to breathe as little as possible. “Boy, do I need a shower.”
Grant checked his watch. “You’ll have to wait until later tonight.”
“Wait? I can’t. Don’t you smell me?” Just then a sprinkler turned on in the garden.
“That’s why.” He steered the horses toward the barn. “My mom’s kitchen crops get watered along with the fields in six phases for nine minutes at a time. There’s hardly any water pressure while that’s going on.” After they dismounted, he took care of the horses and saddles, then turned on the hose to illustrate his point. Water dribbled out.
He took her to a tiny outdoor shower attached to the side of the house that was basically a hose hanging from a hook with a couple of fence panels around it. “You can rinse off here until you can get a proper shower. I’ll bring you a towel, some soap, and a bag for your dirty clothes.”
Giving the primitive-looking stall a quick once-over, she spotted a daddy longlegs in a corner. She shuddered.
“You’re welcome to use the bathroom inside, but I didn’t think you’d want to walk through the house smelling like you do. We built this one for incidents like this.”
He was right. She didn’t particularly want to traipse across his parents’ kitchen in her manure-covered clothes. “Okay, fine.”
After he left, she closed herself in the stall, stripped down, and waited for Grant to return. Minutes later, she heard him on the other side of the gate. “I’m glad you’re back. I can’t stand smelling myself another moment.”
She stuck her hand through the gate, expecting him to place a bar of soap in her palm. Something licked her skin instead. Immediately withdrawing, she peeked out the opening at a giant monster of a dog. The animal was brown, white, and black with huge snarly teeth and had to weigh more than she did.
She screamed and backed farther into the stall. “Help!”
…
Grant heard Niki’s cry as he rounded the house. He dropped the towels and soap and ran as fast as he could toward the outside shower. By the time he got there, their old Saint Bernard had apparently already befriended Niki and was in the shower stall with her as she scratched his giant head. “God, I’m sorry. Fat Pat really wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Niki gave the dog a shove out the door as Grant made an effort not to look at her, although he couldn’t help but see parts—long legs, curvy hips, the swell of one breast. Carnal need stirred inside him. He cleared his throat as he grabbed the dog’s collar. “He’s been part of our family for ten years. Sorry if he frightened you.”
“Nah, he just startled me. We made friends.”
He nudged the dog away. “Come on, buddy.”
After securing the dog in the fenced yard, he brought Niki what she needed to shower then found his folks in the kitchen to see if he could help out with anything.
His mother stood at the counter, rolling out dough. She brushed a wisp of brown hair tinged with gray off of her forehead, more gray than she’d had a few months ago. “Niki seems sweet.”
Grant poured himself a glass of lemonade then sat at the table with his father. “She is.”
His dad grinned at him. “That’s her way of asking how serious it is between the two of you.”
His mom scowled. “Pete!”
Grant shook his head. “I’ll say this again. We’re friends, nothing more.” Maybe if he repeated that enough, he’d actually believe it. But every moment he spent near Niki, his body told him otherwise.
“That was what you said about Carrie when you first brought her around.” Her shoulders hunched as she used the rolling pin to flatten a slab of dough.
Grant’s mood clunked at the mention of his ex-wife. He downed the rest of his drink and turned his attention to his father. “Mom said you’ve been having some back trouble. I’d like to help with whatever I can while I’m here. Tell me what needs to be done.”
His father frowned for a moment. “The cow needs milking this evening.”
“What about fixing the fence in those two spots where it’s broken?” his mother added.
New lines crisscrossed his dad’s forehead. “A lot of things are falling apart around this place. I thought that after I retired from teaching I’d get so much done, but then my damn back started giving me problems. I even had to quit the volunteer fire department.”
Grant’s chest constricted at the anguish etched on his father’s face. He recalled his dad taking he and his older brother to their local fire department when they were boys, showing them around, letting them climb all over the fire engine, introducing them to the other volunteer firefighters. His father had been so proud to serve in the department. It had been the reason that Grant had chosen to make firefighting his career. “As soon as I sell my house and find a job within an hour or two of here, I’ll be moving back. I can help out more then.”
“What about Niki?” His mother washed rhubarb stems in the sink.
Grant opened the dishwasher and put his glass inside. “What about her? She’ll be going to England soon with her job.”
His parents exchanged a look he’d seen many times before, a look that probably had hundreds of different meanings for a couple that had been married for thirty-plus years.
“What I do and where I go doesn’t impact her and vice-versa.” Grant headed outside to repair the fence.
There were a lot more than two damaged posts, and he worked until night shadows stole the last remnants of daylight. He’d finish the rest in the morning.
After he returned to the house, he stood on the back porch and breathed in the nostalgic aromas of his mother’s homemade pies. Through the screen door, he glimpsed his mother and grandmother seated at the table, pressing dough into pie plates. Niki stood at the counter, gluing photos onto a large cardboard six and zero.
“…and Grant loved that mean old cat so much that he used to cry if we didn’t let her in at night.” His mother laughed. “That boy’s loved cats ever since.”
“You should see him with Sarge,” Niki said. “He cooks soup for him.” She had her damp hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and no makeup on. Wearing a T-shirt and jeans with one of his grandmother’s old aprons over it, she looked so much more beautiful than she had when she’d made herself over to meet that asshole Tristan’s standards.
Niki held up the numbers to show the other women. “I’ll mount this on the foam board that I painted gold.”
His mother oohed and ahed over her project, and his grandma rewarded her with a hug.
A lump formed in Grant’s throat.
“I thought you had better manners than to stand there eavesdropping, Grant.”
At his grandpa’s admonishment, all eyes were suddenly on Grant. He met Niki’s amused stare. “I-I haven’t been here for long.”
“Bullshit,” his grandfather said. “You just gonna stand there at the screen door like some hound waiting for kitchen scraps?”
Leave it to his grandfather to make him feel like a naughty seven-year-old.
“Grant, would you mind taking care of milking Sally while I cook supper? That would save your dad from having to do it.”
Happy to escape the crowded kitchen, he immediately agreed.
“Mind if I come along?” Niki asked.
“’Course not.”
As they walked to the barn, he couldn’t help but notice how relaxed and comfortable she looked in her jeans and sneakers.
She skipped ahead of him then turned around to face him. “Do you need any help milking the cow?”
He laughed, wondering just how much she’d had to force herself to make such an offer. “Absolutely not. Sally will recognize you as a novice and mess with you for sure. Besides, the milking machine makes fast work of it.”
“Milking machine? Hmm.” Her smile never faltered as she leaned on a post right outside the stall while he grabbed said machine from a nook inside the barn and moved in beside Sally.
He sat down, turned on the machine, and waited until he heard the sucking sound begin. Next, he positioned the teat cups over Sally’s udder, slowly enough so Niki could see what he was doing. “It’s easy to get kicked with a hoof or whipped in your eye by her tail if you get too close. You never, ever take your eyes off the cow, particularly her back hooves.”
“Sure,” she said. “I think you and I both know that I will probably never, ever be in the position you’re in right now, but thank you for the lesson.”
“You’re welcome. You never know when a zombie apocalypse might hit, and you’ll need to know these things.”
“Right.” She laughed and then settled in to watch him work. After a moment, she backed away a few steps and held her face in her hands, wincing as she did so.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She folded her arms across her chest and stared down at it. “I’m being an idiot. But I just feel so sorry for her. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable that machine must be.”
He chuckled. “It doesn’t hurt her.”
She moved her hands slightly to cup her breasts. “How can you be sure?”
“Niki!” He tried not to laugh in earnest, because she looked so serious. And to be honest, her concern for the cow was kind of touching. “I promise, if I were actually hurting her, Sally would kick me in the head and then probably smash me against the side of her pen with her fifteen-hundred-pound body for good measure. She can take care of herself… Like some people I know.”
She turned away. “Sorry, I just can’t watch. My heart goes out to her.”
He laughed as she hustled out of the barn. Talk about a fish out of water. But the moment she was gone, it really hit him that—even though she’d taken falling in a cow patty in stride—Niki was a city girl all the way. And as much as he yearned for her to like the farm, nothing and no one would ever change that.