Читать книгу Man, Wife And Little Wonder - Robin Nicholas - Страница 10

Chapter One

He was back.

Grace Marie Green tightened her grip on the open door to the Grace Marie Salon. A hot August breeze fanned her face while ribbons of heat rose from the glossy black and silver motorcycle parked diagonally at the curb. Straddling the bike, looking much like the teenage boy she’d once secretly worshiped, was Johnny Tremont.

Johnny pulled off dark glasses and took in his surroundings. Grace caught the gleam in his blue eyes as he removed his helmet, freeing his thick black hair. He stared straight into her green eyes, seeming to absorb all the changes of the past ten years in a matter of seconds. Then, flashing the smile that had once convinced her to let him siphon gas for his Harley from her daddy’s John Deere, he said, “Gracie needs a haircut. And I need you to marry me.”

The noonday heat hit her full in the face and Grace braced herself with a hand on the door frame. She felt almost faint. And she thought she’d just heard Johnny say he needed her to marry him. It had to be this hot weather, causing some kind of hallucination....

Her heart caught as a small body leaned from behind Johnny’s back, a child clad in pink T-shirt and jeans and wearing a pink and black helmet that probably cost more than a year’s worth of spiral perms. Johnny lifted the helmet from the child’s head, revealing dark hair and blue eyes. She knew without a doubt that this pretty child of four was Johnny’s niece, and her namesake, little Gracie.

“Is now okay?”

Johnny’s innocent voice drifted over her, as the sun slanted down, casting a deceptive halo over his gleaming black hair. Grace drew a deep breath. Johnny had said Gracie needed a haircut. She had only imagined the rest. Though it was Monday and the salon was officially closed, she said automatically, “Now is fine.”

“We can talk about getting married afterward,” Johnny said.

That feeling of faintness assailed Grace again.

It hadn’t been a hallucination....

Johnny dismounted and lifted Gracie, carrying the child past her, making brief but potent contact as his arms and legs and hips touched hers, his breath whisking her bangs across her forehead. Grace thought how little her life had changed over the years. But as Johnny brushed by, she could sense a change in the air.

Grace shut the door. What was going on here? Why had Johnny, who had always seen her as a pesky second sister, said such a thing? Hearing the words she’d once dreamed of hearing as an awkward teen only made her angry with him now.

Gracie observed her from where Johnny settled the child on her feet, and Grace’s heart softened. Too solemn, Grace thought, and as the little girl glanced away, too shy. Johnny’s sister, Janelle, had been shy, and Grace felt the same protective instinct for Gracie that she’d felt for her best friend. The feeling was compounded by the accidental death of Gracie’s parents one month earlier, which she assumed had left the child under the guardianship of her maternal grandparents. Too distraught to make the three-hour drive to Chicago, Grace hadn’t attended the funeral. She tried, but failed, to imagine Gracie being raised by the highbrow Tremonts.

Conscious of Johnny’s watchful gaze, Grace stepped into the room, a wariness coming over her that she recognized from years ago whenever Johnny would try to draw her and Janelle into one of his pranks.

I need you to marry me.

Johnny had been smiling as he spoke and Grace realized he’d been teasing. He’d probably gotten a charge out of the shock value of his words. She’d fallen for his joke, of course, just the way she used to.

Most likely, Johnny had brought his niece from Chicago to the country to see where her mother once lived.

Johnny leaned down and whispered in Gracie’s ear. Then Gracie ran over to one of the styling stations and climbed into a chair. With her hand, she pushed off from the counter to set the chair twirling and creaking. Her hair, damp with sweat from the helmet, hung limply to her shoulders and clung to her head.

Grace planted her hands on her hips, frowning at Johnny. “That little girl has no business riding on a motorcycle.”

Though he’d taken a lazy stance, Johnny’s lean body seemed to simmer. His once shaggy hair was now cut in a stylish wedge, short on the sides, long on top. His T-shirt was plain white, devoid of snakes, chains or four-letter words. He wore jeans that looked soft, faded by design rather than as a show of rebellion, and a pair of pricey white high-top tennis shoes, which replaced the leather boots he used to favor. To the average eye, Johnny appeared to have changed.

But Grace had never seen Johnny in the same light as any average person, and with just a glance, she knew better. Johnny Tremont hadn’t changed.

“We only drove from the motel at the edge of town.” His nonchalant tone failed to reassure her. “A friend hauled us and the Harley down from Chicago last night.”

“So you could marry me.” Grace laced her voice with sarcasm, letting him know he hadn’t fooled her with his “proposal.” She was twenty-five, not fifteen. She didn’t have stars in her eyes anymore.

But her sarcasm bounced right off Johnny.

“That’s right.” There was purpose in his step as he drew closer, resolve in his voice as he lowered it to tell her, “In their will, Janelle and Grant named me Gracie’s legal guardian. Now Mother and Dad are suing for guardianship on the grounds that I’m unfit to raise her. I intend to keep Gracie, but to do that, I need a wife. I need you to marry me.”

Johnny’s words hadn’t lost any of their shock value with repetition. On an indrawn breath she whispered a sentiment once shared by all of Ashville, Illinois. “You’re crazy, Johnny.”

“I’ve never been more sane—or serious—in my life,” he responded without hesitation, his jaw set, his eyes more grave than she’d ever seen them.

Johnny, a father figure? The idea defied imagination. But apparently he’d served as one since Janelle and Grant’s deaths.

“Mother’s playing the part to impress her friends. Dad’s indulging her.” His voice grew bitter. “They don’t really want Gracie.”

Grace recalled how the wealthy Tremonts had originally bought the acreage outside of town, near the Green farm, with the hope that quiet country life would keep fifteen-year-old Johnny out of trouble and coax Janelle out of shyness. But their busy lives hadn’t allowed them time for Johnny and Janelle. They’d paid for Johnny’s pranks and had been relieved when Janelle found a friend to keep her amused.

She realized Johnny was right. The Tremonts had never seemed to want Johnny and Janelle. Why would they want Gracie?

“I want to raise Gracie here in Ashville,” Johnny went on. “But the court won’t allow it unless I can provide a better life for her than my parents.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you have to marry,” she insisted, her sense of self-preservation kicking in full tilt.

“According to my lawyer, it does.” Johnny’s reply was grim. Marriage had not likely been his first solution to his problem. But it was evident he meant to follow through on his lawyer’s advice, that he meant to marry her.

“I realize I’m asking a lot. But I intend to make this worth your while by paying off the mortgage on your farm, whatever the outcome in court.”

Heat burned Grace’s cheeks. He was paying her to marry him. Nothing could have made it more clear—he still saw her as something less than a desirable woman.

“Once I have guardianship of Gracie, and Mother gets back to her tea parties, we can divorce.”

Nothing except that.

Grace felt a flare of indignation. Worse, she felt all of fifteen again, desperate for Johnny to see her as a woman. A woman in love with him...

Her heart missed a panicked beat. She couldn’t do this.

She was about to tell Johnny so when his gaze cut to Gracie, and she saw a fierce protectiveness come into his eyes, tinged with a trace of desperation. She caught her lip. Johnny, who had never needed anything but his motorcycles and the successful dealership and repair shop he’d started in Chicago, needed her help with Gracie.

Suddenly aware of the quiet, she realized the chair had stopped creaking and Gracie sat watching them, her eyes revealing the sadness inside her.

A sense of fate rolled over Grace. But she only whispered to Johnny, “I don’t know. I need time to think.”

But she couldn’t think clearly standing so close to Johnny. She walked over to the styling station and summoned a smile for Gracie. She pumped the chair as high as it would go, rewarded when Gracie’s lips curved and the little girl leaned to watch the floor descend. She didn’t use the booster chair, because she wanted Gracie to feel like a big girl.

“Just, uh, cut a little off the bottom...” Johnny’s voice trailed off at her baleful stare.

Grace spun Gracie to face the mirror. “How would you like your hair cut, Gracie?”

Gracie stared at her pink tennis shoes. Johnny shifted, and this time Grace warned him clearly with her gaze to keep quiet.

“Like yours,” Gracie finally said.

“Excellent choice.” Grace smiled, her heart turning over. No one had ever wanted to look like her before.

She set to work, tying a pink plastic apron beneath Gracie’s chin. Aware of Johnny’s close regard, she wondered if he noticed that her once long brown hair now swung neatly at her shoulders, that she wore a touch of makeup and a fashionable denim jumper over her crisp white T-shirt. She thought of the ill-fitting clothes and unstyled hair she’d had in high school. She hadn’t exactly been prom material.

But then, in his own way, neither had Johnny.

She parted Gracie’s silky hair while Johnny circled the room, skirting hair care displays and the potted plants she’d been watering. His straight nose wrinkled over the lingering scents of solutions and shampoos. He eyed the photos on the wall of models with elaborate hairdos, coming to a halt before the cash register. Behind it, she’d hung a picture of Elvis sporting a ducktail, in deference to the retro look.

“I remember that picture,” he said.

Of course he remembered. Her parents had been Elvis fans, in their thirties during Elvis’s heyday of movies and songs, when they’d fallen in love. The front hall of the old farmhouse where Grace had lived since her parents’ deaths had been decorated with photos of Elvis when she and Janelle and Johnny were teens. The one time she’d danced with Johnny had been in the living room to a slow Elvis tune.

“Can’t Help Falling In Love.”

Grace shook off the wistful feeling that came over her and gazed at Johnny with a critical eye. He was handsome with his hair cut in that crisp wedge, falling sexily over his forehead. With a ducktail he would look like a devastatingly young Elvis.

He turned then and caught her staring. Hiding her attraction, the way she’d always done, she said haughtily, “A shampoo and trim would do wonders for you.”

Johnny’s gaze glinted right back at her. “I have a barber in the city. And he doesn’t give shampoos.”

Grace turned away to hide her grin. She’d missed the exhilarating rush that came with sparring with Johnny. She’d missed Johnny. Before she could stop the thought, Grace imagined, as she had long ago, what it would be like if he really wanted to marry her.

But he’d come back for Gracie’s sake.

They needed to talk and so she hurried little Gracie’s trim along. Grace was aware from the way Johnny jingled his keys in his pocket that his patience was running out.

Johnny managed not to reach up and push his hand through his hair. He was due for a trip to the barber but he’d be damned if he’d sit in that chair with a pink bib tied around his neck.

Gracie seemed to enjoy getting her hair cut, though. And her smile cut right through to Johnny’s heart. He knew the pain that lurked beneath the surface, knew how Gracie cried in the night, how she clung to him if he had to leave her for a short while, afraid that, like her parents, he wouldn’t come back.

Johnny didn’t leave Gracie anymore. He ran his business by phone. He’d stopped partying, stopped everything for Gracie. He’d turned his world upside down to make her happy. He wasn’t going to lose her now to his parents.

Which meant, according to his lawyer, that he had to clean up his act. Provide a loving home life to rival that of his respectable, wealthy parents. What a joke.

Gracie wasn’t going to grow up in the same cold environment he and Janelle had. Not if he could help it. Not if Grace would marry him.

Frowning, Johnny contemplated Grace. She and Janelle had exchanged occasional letters. Through Janelle he’d learned that Grace was hanging on to that farm by a thread, and that there was no special man in her life. Maybe his proposal was a little sudden, but he could see that she wanted to help Gracie. He couldn’t understand what held her back.

But then, Grace had always been independent. Though she’d never let him down, she’d never been as easily swayed as Janelle to help him in and out of mischief.

He trailed his gaze the length of Grace’s body, over the soft curves that rounded the angles she’d had as a teen. Grace had almost seemed like a sister to him back then, but now...

Snipping little Gracie’s bangs expertly with scissors, Grace caught his gaze. “What?”

“I’d pictured you married by now,” he lied, a little shocked to think he’d imagined that slip of a dress falling to her ankles.

“I pictured you married by now to a bleached blonde wearing spandex.” Grace pursed her lips against a smile. “Spandex over silicone.”

He laughed. A spark of fun had always lurked within Grace even though her life, which had revolved around her mother’s Alzheimer’s disease and resulting financial struggles, had forced her to be responsible and serious. It occurred to Johnny that she didn’t deserve to wind up married to someone like him, even for a little while. She deserved a happily-ever-after kind of guy, one who believed in the game of hearts and flowers and rings. One who believed in love.

But she was just the kind of girl he needed to marry, with her wholesome country upbringing. And he knew she would be good for Gracie, the way she’d been good for shy Janelle.

Grace leaned to snip Gracie’s bangs, her dress hugging her curves—a woman’s curves. Johnny narrowed his gaze. Grace might have acquired a boyfriend in the past month. She might already be engaged to some other guy. He scanned her busy fingers for a ring, but she was moving this way and that, clipping Gracie’s hair, and he couldn’t see. He shifted impatiently.

Gracie, meanwhile, sat like a queen, her little chin lifted in clear imitation of Grace. He was counting on Grace to draw Gracie out of her shell, the way she had Janelle. But he hadn’t expected the effect of Grace’s personality to rub off so quickly. He was more certain than ever that Grace would be good for Gracie, and that he’d done the right thing in coming here.

Grace sensed Johnny’s scrutiny, his impatience. She gave little Gracie’s hair a final combing, then smiled. “In the drawer by the cash register, there’s a box of ribbons and barrettes. You can go pick out some if you’d like.”

Gracie gave a quick nod and climbed from the chair, hurrying over to open the drawer. Grace watched her, while a keen awareness of Johnny’s slow approach radiated through her.

“We need to talk,” he said, echoing her earlier thought in a low voice. He stood close, and she caught the scent of him, still with that hint of motor oil. His belly was flat as it had been when he left town at eighteen, and he looked solid and strong in his white T-shirt. His gaze was unwavering, and it was hard to believe Johnny needed her for anything.

Then the light in his eyes changed, and her heartbeat changed with it. That dark promise she read in Johnny’s gaze was not the kind of promise a brother made to a sister.

But before she could be sure of it, before she could take it to heart, Gracie ran over to them, diverting Johnny. Holding a pink ribbon in each hand, she told him, “I’m hungry.”

Johnny gave Grace a beguiling smile and, as if they were already married, asked, “What’s for lunch?”

With a brief glare for Johnny, Grace smoothed little Gracie’s hair. “How would you like to have lunch on a farm, Gracie?”

“Is there a cow?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “No cow. But there are kittens you can play with and flowers you can pick.”

Gracie’s smile was Janelle’s smile. It was both endearing and heartbreaking. Grace turned away, but there was no escaping her sorrow, a sorrow that didn’t begin to compare to Gracie’s. Grabbing a can of styling spray, she said quickly, “First, let’s fix those ribbons in your hair.”

Gracie looked longingly at the pink can of spray, the kind her mom used to buy. “Can I, Johnny?”

No “uncle,” just Johnny, Grace noted. Leave it to Johnny to waive the formalities.

He gave his consent in the form of a wary shrug, standing well away from the spray while Grace lightly misted Gracie’s hair. Minutes later, they exited the shop.

Little Gracie was adorable and Grace felt a pride in Janelle’s child, a pride she supposed Janelle had felt tenfold. She imagined herself brushing Gracie’s hair each morning, tucking her into bed at night.

She imagined tucking Johnny into bed, too....

“Hey, Gold Groceries is still open?” Johnny said, pointing just down the street at the store’s sign.

Grace always thought it had been Johnny who’d thrown the rock that broke the bulb that lit up the “G,” leaving the sign to read “old” Groceries.

“Let’s walk down there and I’ll get some stuff for lunch.”

She glanced uneasily at Johnny. “I have plenty of food at the farm.”

“Bet you don’t have the right kind of peanut butter. Come on, I want Gracie to see Gold’s. I remember hanging around there, drinking pop and watching girls.”

“I remember you were banned from the store,” Grace muttered, hoping by get some stuff for lunch, Johnny meant he would pay for it. His parents had paid dearly for the fireworks he’d stolen.

Grace started after him, certain Henry Gold wouldn’t share Johnny’s enthusiasm if he knew Johnny was coming to his store.

As they walked down the street, Gracie skipped before them, never more than two cracks in the sidewalk ahead. Grace thought all of Ashville must be watching and wondering over Johnny’s return. She imagined the last thing they would think was that he’d come back to marry her.

Although, watching Gracie’s carefree skipping, Grace could understand Johnny’s desire to raise his shy niece in the quiet town of Ashville as opposed to the city. She pressed her lips wryly. She could understand, as well, why Johnny’s lawyer thought marriage would make the court more amenable to his keeping guardianship of Gracie.

Johnny drifted closer to her side, until his arm brushed her shoulder and their hips met occasionally, the skirt of her jumper ruffled by the brush of his jeans. She wanted to look up at him, see the blueblack shine of his hair in the sun, but she ignored the impulse. Instead, she contemplated the prospect of Johnny raising Gracie, when all he’d ever raised was Cain.

She wanted to help Gracie, too. But the truth was, she didn’t know much more about kids than Johnny. Her mother’s struggle with Alzheimer’s had resulted in her spending many hours at home or at the Ashville Nursing Home, instead of baby-sitting like most teenage girls. And the idea of marriage to Johnny, once a dream of hers, seemed only a painful prospect, with the knowledge that he didn’t love her.

Gracie spotted the store, interrupting Grace’s thoughts with her excitement as she read her initial, G, on the sign to Johnny.

Johnny grinned. “Just seeing that place makes me want a beefstick and a cola.”

“Hardly an appropriate lunch for a little girl,” Grace pointed out, certain that was just what he had in mind.

“I like peanut butter,” Gracie said.

“With celery,” Johnny added. “Let’s go.”

Inside, the store was cool and dim and quiet. Henry came from behind the counter, wearing a clean white apron over his bib overalls. His frown had left wrinkles over the years, and his drawn eyebrows were now white, matching the wispy hair on his head. Johnny towered over him at six feet, but that didn’t keep Henry from aiming his famous glare at Johnny.

“Well, if it ain’t Johnny Tremont. Heard you was in jail and heard you was rich. Which is it?”

“Well, I’m not in jail,” Johnny said pointedly, leaving Grace to hope he would mind his temper.

“Humph. I got mirrors now.” Henry pointed his gnarled finger over the door and to a back corner of the little square store. “And alarms.” Henry nodded toward Gracie. “Who have you got there?”

Grace expected little Gracie to wilt beneath Henry’s perpetual glare. But Gracie only stared at Henry, a funny little smile on her face.

Johnny rested his hand on Gracie’s shoulder. “This is my niece, Gracie.”

As much as was possible, Henry’s face softened. “I was sorry to hear about Janelle.” Then he added meaningfully, “She was a good girl.” He frowned down at Gracie. “Are you a good girl?”

Gracie nodded vigorously. “Johnny said so.”

“Humph. Don’t break anything in the store. If you don’t break anything, I’ll give you a candy.” Henry shuffled behind the counter, mumbling about apples falling close to the tree.

Johnny drew a deep breath and headed down the aisle to the peanut butter. Grace knew he would find it in the same place that it had been ten years ago.

“He’s Grumpy,” Gracie chimed, looking back at Henry.

“Old grouch hasn’t changed any, that’s for sure,” Johnny muttered.

“No, like Grumpy the dwarf,” Gracie explained.

Grace laughed. “You mean the dwarf in Snow White?”

“Johnny reads it to me,” Gracie said, choosing peanut butter and leaving Grace to contend with the appealing image of Johnny reading a fairy tale, his niece cuddled beside him.

In all her years of daydreaming about Johnny, it was certainly not something she’d ever imagined before.

Gracie’s presence seemed to have quite an effect on Johnny. Years ago, Johnny and Henry had had a running feud, Johnny laughing off every battle. Now he almost seemed bothered by his lingering reputation, most likely because of Gracie.

Along with Gracie’s peanut butter, they chose oranges and celery and ham. Grace insisted she had anything else they might need, but when they reached the counter, Gracie wanted cupcakes. Johnny immediately went in search of the treat with Gracie, holding his niece’s hand. Grace dug in her skirt pocket for quarters to buy Gracie candy, thinking maybe Johnny had changed some after all—

A crash came from the back of the store, followed by the thunder of rolling canned goods.

Grace closed her eyes. Maybe not.