Читать книгу Her Sure Thing - Helen Brenna - Страница 14

“THERE,” GRACE SAID, LEANING back from the gardens in the front yard of her father’s house. Her left side was aching from use, but it was a good ache. “What do you think, Dad?”

Her father shook his head. “It’s different. Pretty, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” She laughed. “I guess I deserve that for trying to add some color to the front yard with some pink and purple impatiens. You want me to get rid of them and put in Mom’s double whites instead?”

“Good heavens, no. That would be a terrible waste.” He climbed the front porch. “Let’s go in and have some lunch.”

“I’m right behind you.” Grace brushed off her garden gloves, slipped off her muddy shoes on the front porch and followed her dad inside. “I just need to wash up.”

She headed into the powder room off the kitchen and lathered her grimy hands. Somehow, she’d managed to get dirt all the way onto her elbows. She glanced in the mirror. Even her cheeks were smudged with garden soil.

That a threat or a promise?

From nowhere her encounter with Sean in his barn the previous night popped into her head. What in God’s name had she been thinking flirting with the man?

That he was as different from all the male models, photographers and designers in her world as night from day. That he was available and she was divorced and a good, old-fashioned romp in the hay might be exactly what she needed.

And then to be ceremoniously shot down. Ouch.

Only she wasn’t buying it. Not entirely, anyway. True, she didn’t have much experience with this kind of thing of late, but it seemed to her that Sean Griffin’s mouth had said one thing and his eyes had said quite another.

Men looked at her all the time. She was used to, almost immune to, a lingering show of appreciation. What she’d seen in Sean’s eyes had been different. He’d looked at her as if she’d been the only thing that existed in his world in that moment, as if he’d needed her like air or water, as if he was burning up inside and she was the only thing that could soothe him.

His heat had transferred to her as if his naked skin had been pressed against hers. All she’d been able to think about as she’d stood staring at him from Louie’s stall was what it might feel like to have his hands on her, to have him over her, inside her. Nothing sweet or tentative would’ve sufficed, either. She’d wanted rough, needy, fast.

Grace laughed out loud.

Since the accident, she’d assumed she was all but dead from a sexuality standpoint. If she was honest with herself, the years before the accident hadn’t been all that exciting, either. Her marriage to Jeremy had been more of a convenience than anything, and sex with a friend simply hadn’t worked for Grace.

Jeremy had been the epitome of discretion with his romantic affairs, but Grace had never had the urge, let alone the need to seek any satisfaction outside of their marriage. It was surprising, really, considering how sexual she’d felt while living on Mirabelle, but something had changed in her after moving to California. She’d lost herself in her work, and she wasn’t entirely sure that had been for the best.

Last night, though, had proven without a shadow of a doubt that the old Grace Andersen was still locked someplace deep inside. She was, after all, as hot-blooded as any other woman. So what was she going to do about it? She was divorced, footloose and fancy free. Sean Griffin had said he wanted happily ever after, but would any man really turn away from the offer of a casual fling? She imagined kissing him and placing her hands on him. His hands on her.

Bam. Reality crashed down. She would never be getting naked with a man. Not with this body.

“Grace?”

She jumped at the sound of her dad’s voice.

“You okay in there?”

“Yeah, Dad. I’ll be out in a sec.”

Forget it, Grace. It’s not going to happen.

Sloughing off all thoughts of the previous night—and of Sean—Grace dried off her hands and went into the kitchen. She and her dad made turkey sandwiches together at the center island. Feeling hungrier than usual, she used two pieces of whole grain bread, rather than having it open-faced, and slathered on some mayo. They’d just sat to eat when the front door opened.

“Dad?” The sound of a man’s voice came from the foyer. “You home?”

Carl. Even after all these years she knew her brother’s voice better than her own.

“In the kitchen, Carl,” her father called.

A moment later, he walked into the room, his brow furrowing as he looked at her, almost as if he didn’t recognize her. Then a slight smile slowly spread across his face. “Grace.”

“Hello, Carl.”

“I heard a rumor you’d moved back onto the island and I couldn’t believe it. That’s all they can talk about down at Duffy’s and the Bayside.”

Figures.

An awkward silence filled the air. A hug seemed too familiar. A handshake too distant. One thing was certain. He seemed to have aged even since their mother’s funeral.

“Well, give each other a hug, for crying in the beer!” their father said, laughing.

Grace stood and they hugged briefly.

“How are you?” Carl said as he stepped away, his gaze traveling quickly down to her left shoulder and back again. “I mean…well, you know what I mean.”

“I’m great,” she said, evading the issue.

“You look good.”

Better than at Mom’s funeral is more than likely what he meant. “Thanks.”

“So what’s going on? Why didn’t you call or something? Let us know you were coming.”

“Honestly, it all came about so fast. One day I was looking at houses with a real estate agent and the next day I was making arrangements to come here. I called Dad to let him know I was coming.”

“Well, that explains it.” Carl glanced at their father. “I haven’t talked to you in weeks, have I?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry, Dad. It’s been crazy busy at the resort.” He glanced at Grace. “How long can you stay?”

“At least for the summer. After that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“We didn’t get much of a chance to talk at Mom’s funeral.”

He hadn’t acted as though he’d wanted to talk, and she hadn’t been physically up for staying much past the funeral. “Yeah, well, it was bad timing.”

“Is there ever a good time for death?” he said, his gaze turning suddenly troubled as he ran his hands through his thinning hair. His hairline was receding and his temples were graying, and suddenly even she felt so much older just being his sister. “Are you staying here with Dad?”