Defending Hearts (13 page)

“First off, I do
have
a home. I have a very nice apartment in Rhode Island. And Gretchen and I aren’t . . . mixing. Not the way you think.”

“She doesn’t strike me as the kind to do anything lightly.”

“She’s also not the kind who does emotional entanglements.”

Coach shook his head, rubbing at that spot between his buttons again. “You can bullshit yourself if you want, but don’t try to bullshit me.”

“I’m not trying to . . .” Alex sighed. “She doesn’t give me anything. Sometimes I can see right through her and other times, she’s like a brick wall.”

“The people with the thickest walls are usually the ones protecting the softest hearts.” Alex snorted and gave him a
really?
look. “Okay, that was a corny one, even for me. You want football advice, I’m your guy. If you’re trying to be a good man and live a good life, I’ve got that covered. But women? I need to read better greeting cards, I guess.”

Alex laughed, but it was short-lived. “You feeling okay, Coach?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You keep rubbing your chest. Just with your fingers, like on your breastbone, but you’ve done it a few times.”

Coach shrugged. “I’ve been having some heartburn lately. Helen’s been after me to give up coffee, but she’s already got me eating egg-white omelets. A man can only sacrifice so much.”

“Maybe Mrs. McDonnell should be after you to make sure it’s not something more serious.”

“Dammit, Jim, you’re a photographer, not a doctor.”

Alex laughed at the
Star Trek
reference, but it didn’t change the fact that he was concerned. A doctor could do some tests. Maybe prescribe something stronger than antacid tablets to rule out heartburn.

“Stop looking at me like that, son.” Coach gave him a stern look. “You all didn’t work so hard to save the football team so I could kick the bucket before our first game. I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex didn’t even want to go there. He’d gone so long without Coach, and now that he was back in his life, if something happened to him . . . His mind shied away, not even willing to consider the possibility. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I want to say one more thing about Gretchen, and then I’ll stay out of it,” Coach said. “You came back here because your story wasn’t finished. You need to keep in mind life isn’t always a choose-your-own-adventure kind of story. If you pick an adventure and don’t like how it ends, you might not get to go back and choose again. Gretchen’s a strong woman, and she can also be pretty unforgiving if she feels somebody’s done her wrong. She’s got a lot of her grandfather in her so, if you choose wrong, you might have to live with that.”

Alex nodded to show he understood, but he didn’t really have anything to say. His thoughts had become like a tangled ball of Ida’s yarn, with two ends. One end was Gretchen and the other was his career.

And as he mentally pulled at one or the other, that messy knot in the middle just grew tighter and tighter.

—

O
f all the chores Gretchen had ever had to do being raised on a farm, laundry was her least favorite. It was even worse than taking care of chickens, but if she didn’t do it, she eventually ran out of clean clothes. As much as she might want to, she couldn’t live in her cow pajamas.

Unfortunately, laundry was also Gram’s least favorite thing to do, so they’d agreed a long time ago to each do their own and that way they both suffered. It was only fair.

Muttering under her breath about all of the outdoor things she’d rather be doing, Gretchen pulled a shirt out of the dryer and gave it a hard snap to shake the wrinkles out. Because she’d been outside, she’d missed the buzzer and this load had sat in a lump in the bottom of the dryer too long. Then she folded it and set it on her shirt pile on top of the dryer.

The next item she pulled out wasn’t hers. For a second, she thought it was Gram’s, but then she realized the lightweight zip hoodie belonged to Alex. Now that the mornings and late evenings were cooler, he sometimes threw it on and Gretchen remembered grabbing it off the back of the chair when she was putting this load in the washing machine. As she continued folding, she also found one of his socks, which she’d rescued from Cocoa’s bed, and she put that with his sweatshirt.

As she folded a pair of her jeans, Gretchen thought about the signs of Alex scattered throughout the house. There weren’t too many, because he was a neat guy who didn’t have a lot of belongings with him, but there was the sweatshirt and the sock. His hiking boots, which he wore around the farm or in rainy weather, sitting by the back door. A spare phone charger in the basket on the kitchen counter, where Gretchen kept hers.

At first it had been so strange having him around. The first time she’d walked out into the upstairs hallway and smelled the lingering tang of shaving cream, it had stopped her in her tracks. But now he not only seemed at home there, Gretchen had gotten used to having him around, too.

She was going to have to watch that, she thought. While she’d given up on keeping a physical distance from him, it was even more important now that she keep her emotional distance. The more she got used to having him around the house and seeing him as practically a member of the family, the bigger the void was going to feel when he moved on.

The screen door slammed, followed by the thump of shoes hitting the floor. Speak of the devil, she thought. Gram usually wore slip-on shoes when she went out to the garden, and they were made of a light canvas that was almost silent. Alex was home earlier than usual.

He found her a couple of minutes later, and walked up behind her. “There you are.”

“No matter how many notes I leave in my quickly emptying sock drawer, the laundry fairy refuses to stop at this house.”

He chuckled, and then his breath blew hot across her neck a second before his lips touched the tender skin just below her ear. “I’ve heard she only works for cash.”

Despite the keeping-her-distance pep talk she’d just given herself, Gretchen leaned back against his body. “Laundry mercenaries. I should have guessed.”

He tucked a finger under the neck of her T-shirt and pulled it down so he could kiss the spot between her shoulder blades that made her shiver. “I ran into Cocoa outside, so I assume Ida’s out in the garden?”

“Yes, she is. She’s concerned about the soil, so she’s graphing it all out so we can talk about rotation for next season.”

Running his hand over her stomach to just under her breast, Alex nuzzled the back of her neck. “All I heard was
blah blah she’s going to be a while blah blah
.”

Gretchen dropped her head to the side, offering him more access to her neck. So very tempting to maybe sneak upstairs for a few minutes. “She’s already been out there for quite a while. I don’t think she’ll be much longer, especially since she probably heard your Jeep and knows you’re home.”

“Trust me, I don’t need very long.”

“I’m not having a quickie with you in the laundry room.”

His sigh chilled the skin his mouth had just moistened with kisses. “I’ve heard the spin cycle can make things interesting.”

When she heard the screen door close again, Gretchen stepped away from Alex as quickly as if she were a teenage girl caught with a boy in her room. Or what she imagined that would have felt like, anyway. There wasn’t a boy in Stewart Mills willing to risk crossing her grandfather, even if she’d been inclined to sneak one upstairs.

“You realize we’re adults, right?” Alex asked, the wry humor evident in his voice.

“Gram does
not
want to catch us making out in the laundry room. I don’t care how old we are.”

Cocoa found them first, giving an enthusiastic
woof
when she saw them, and Gram was right behind her. “You’re still working on your laundry? I swear, I’ve been telling you practically your entire life that you should just do it and get it over with. You always drag it out so it takes the entire day.”

Gretchen just barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes while handing Alex his folded sweatshirt and the sock. “I found the sock tucked behind Cocoa’s bed.”

When he looked down at the dog, she raised her paw. “I’m supposed to give you a high five for stealing my sock?”

But Cocoa just let her tongue loll out of her mouth and
waited patiently until Alex gave in and slapped his hand to her paw. It didn’t take long because, like everybody else in the house, he was at the lovable mutt’s mercy.

“I’m going to go put these away,” Alex said, and Gretchen caught the look he gave her over the top of Gram’s head, full of sizzling promises he’d keep next time they were alone. “Thanks for washing them.”

“He’s such a great guy,” Gram said when they were alone. “He fits right in here, too.”

And that’s why it was so important she not find them kissing in the laundry room. Gretchen was well aware she and Alex were both adults, and she understood where he was coming from, but Gram had been worrying about her finding a husband and having a family for a while now. Having an attractive man that they both liked
fit right in
wasn’t as good as Gram thought it was.

As far as Gretchen could tell, the only way to keep her grandmother’s hopes from being raised so high that she would be crushed when Alex left was to keep the kissing out of sight and her own feelings about the man locked down so tightly, even
she
wasn’t sure what they were.

A
lex’s phone rang while he was in the process of rewriting a paragraph about the grants Jen Cooper had gotten for the Eagles fund-raiser, and he almost ignored it. Now that he’d made a decision not to go ahead with the full-length book, the words were starting to flow again, and he didn’t need the interruption. But he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the caller ID, and when he saw that it was his agent, he sighed. Since he’d already let one call from him go unreturned, Alex answered the call.

“I was starting to wonder if you got eaten by a bear. Or trampled by a moose. Or maybe you fell through the hole in the outhouse and drowned in shit.”

Alex wasn’t really in the mood. “That stopped being funny the first time you said it, when you were trying to talk me out of coming here.”

“Days after I sell your photos to an international news magazine is not the time to disappear off the planet.”

“We’ve gone over this. I felt it was the right thing, and I still think it’s the right thing for me. Feeling an emotional connection to my subjects is bringing back my passion for the art.”

“That’s great, Alex. Really. I’m glad to hear it, but I called to pass on an invitation to you. I would have forwarded the email, but some people in New Hampshire apparently still use their phones to make telephone calls with and there is no email.”

Alex thought of Gretchen’s ancient flip phone and smiled. Watching her painfully text by hitting each number key until she landed on the right letter was both amusing and excruciating. It tipped more toward amusing when she went past the right letter and had to cycle through again, since that made her vocabulary a little more colorful than usual.

“Anyway, somebody at the state university got wind that you’re in New Hampshire. They’re having a reception thing at a restaurant in Concord, which I’m told is the capital city and shouldn’t be too hard for you to find. Some politicians, some folks from the university. Some museum people. They’ll be showcasing up-and-coming local artists and raising money for the . . . something. I’ll email you a link to the website for the people hosting it so you can read all that for yourself.”

“So they’re inviting me. That means what, exactly?”

“No speeches. The guy that called me is a huge fan of yours and basically they want you to show up so they can say you’ll be there. Huge inspiration to young artists and the awards you’ve won and blah blah blah. You know the drill.”

“How long do I have to think about it?”

“The reception is Friday night, so not long. An answer right now would be good.”

“This Friday?”

“Which you’d already know if you’d returned my last call. But before you say anything else, I think this would be good for you. It’s going to get some local press coverage, and it’s always a good idea to make nice with university people, because you never know when you might want to teach some photography classes in your spare time.”

“I’m not going to teach.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t get a percentage of that. But also, I think being around aspiring artists will be good for you. You said you’re trying to recapture your passion or whatever. Being around people who aren’t jaded or tired or worried about burning out could be good for you.”

And it would be nice to get out of Stewart Mills for a night. He’d get a hotel room in Concord and spend the night, so he wouldn’t have to make the two-hour drive back afterward. And he had one suit with him. It would need pressing since it had been rolled up tightly to fit in his bag, but he never traveled without at least one suit.

“And you’re welcome to bring a plus-one, of course,” his agent continued. “The seating arrangement for dinner includes a guest for you.”

“I’ll go. And I’ll see if Gretchen wants to go with me. I think she will.”

There was a short pause. “Gretchen. Isn’t that the lady who owns the farm where you’re staying? With the chickens and the pumpkins or whatever.”

“Yeah. She might enjoy getting away for a night.”

“Does she know which fork to use at the dinner table?”

Alex frowned, not liking the flare-up of anger he could feel inside. Thanks to Coach, he didn’t lose his temper anymore and hadn’t in years. So he took a deep breath and reminded himself his agent was a big-city guy who probably couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah, she knows which fork to use. It’s whichever fucking fork she wants to.” Okay, maybe he should have taken two deep breaths.

“Oh.” Another pause. “Okay. I didn’t realize it was like that.”

It wasn’t like that. But it wasn’t totally
not
like that, either. Alex didn’t know exactly how or what it was, so he let it go. “Send me the info and let them know I’ll be there.”

“Sure thing. And I’d love to get together with you and have lunch or drinks. Talk about where you want to go from here. Are you going to be in the city soon?”

Alex knew the correct answer was yes, he’d be in the city soon. Though taking a break was nice, his career wasn’t going to simmer on the back burner forever. But being in the city meant leaving Stewart Mills, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to do that. “I’ll get back to you on that and we’ll schedule something.”

Once the call was over, he shut down the computer and decided he’d go find Gretchen. The more notice she had, the more likely it was she’d go with him, and they were down to two days already.

He found her in the garage, where she was sitting on the floor, taking apart a lawn mower engine. “Hey. How many lawn mowers do you own?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “This one belongs to the neighbors. It’s not running right, so they asked me to take a look at it. What’s up?”

“I got a call from my agent a few minutes ago.”

He saw the subtle shift in her expression, like a mask slipping into place. “Is he sending you somewhere to take pictures?”

“No. He can’t actually do that, by the way. He can tell me there’s an opportunity or that somebody wants to hire me for something, but he can’t actually tell me what to do. He was letting me know I was invited to an art reception at a restaurant in Concord on Friday night.”

“That sounds like fun.” She pushed herself to her feet and brushed off the back of her jeans. “Bit of a long drive.”

“Yeah, I’ll get a hotel room for Friday night and come back Saturday. I was hoping you’d go with me.”

She blinked and then frowned. “To an art reception? I don’t even know what that is.”

“A bunch of people hanging around, talking about art. Actually, I’m not sure
reception
is the right word, because there’s a dinner. I think. He was a little fuzzy on the details, so he’ll email me later.”

“Is it a dressy kind of thing?”

“A little bit. I mean, it’s not black tie, but the women will probably be in dresses. You do own a dress, right?”

“Of course I own a dress. People do die in Stewart Mills, you know, and when they do, we have funerals for them.”

“Of course.” He couldn’t tell if she was screwing with him or not. “Which is perfect, because the art crowd loves black.”

“I don’t really think it’s my thing,” she said. “But thanks for inviting me.”

“I was hoping going out for a night and enjoying a hotel room with me would be your thing.” He gave what he hoped was a charming, slightly naughty smile.

“I can’t just leave the farm like that.”

Disappointment surged through him, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He’d let her think about it while she worked and bring it up again later. “Well, just think about it. I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Okay. And Alex? Leave my grandmother out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t fill her head full of me going to some fancy art thing if only I would leave the farm.”

He grinned. “Do you really think I would do that?”

“If you do, I’ll evict you.”

He laughed and left the garage, but he wasn’t done with the conversation yet.

Several hours later, without any prompting from him, Ida provided the perfect opening for him over dinner. “So, Alex, do you have any plans for this weekend? The weather’s supposed to be nice.”

“Actually, on Friday I’m going to Concord for an event. I’ll stay in a hotel, so it’s an overnight.”

“Oh, really? That sounds like fun. Is it the sort of thing you should bring a date to?”

When Gretchen glared at him, assuming he was in cahoots with her grandmother, Alex held up his hands in an
I’m innocent
gesture. He had nothing to do with it, even if he was cheering Ida on in his mind.

“The invitation included a plus-one, yes.”

Ida didn’t even ask if he was considering anybody. She just looked directly at Gretchen, her eyebrow raised in a questioning way.

“You know I can’t leave the farm,” Gretchen said in a flat voice.

When Alex saw the look Ida leveled at her granddaughter, he was surprised Gretchen didn’t go up in flames. “I may not know how to change the oil in the truck or diagnose a broken tractor, missy, but I can gather eggs and feed horses.”

“I know you can. But what if something happens? I mean you fell going to the bathroom in the middle of the night and—”

“Don’t you start,” Ida interrupted. “I didn’t collapse. I tripped over my damn slipper. Remember the time you were working on the barn and fell off the roof? Did I wrap you in Bubble Wrap and prop you up in a rocking chair?”

Alex tried to smother his chuckle with his napkin, but it didn’t work. Gretchen scowled at him, which only made him laugh harder.

“I didn’t just fall off the roof. I got dive-bombed by a bird.”

“Yes, I saw,” Ida said. “And when you screamed and waved your arms around, you fell off the roof.”

“I didn’t scream. I might have yelped a little, but I never scream.”

“My point is, I am perfectly capable of taking care of the farm for one night. Don’t forget who your grandfather relied on for decades before you were an adult.”

“I don’t know anything about art.”

Ida shrugged. “So. You know
everything
about Alex’s current project, so you can talk about that. And you’re perfectly capable of making polite conversation about art that’s
right in front of your face, which I know since I raised you to be an intelligent woman.”

“Fine,” Gretchen snapped, glaring at Alex. “Fine, I’ll go. Just stop talking about it.”

It wasn’t the most gracious acceptance of an invitation he’d ever received, but he didn’t care. She could be as prickly as she wanted to and he wouldn’t let her off the hook. He’d been living in her world for a month now. She could spend one night in his.

—

A
ll Gretchen had to do was send one simple message—
Alex fancy event Friday dress help
—
and the texts started flying. Mostly the texts flew between Kelly and Jen, since they had cell phones with actual screens and keyboards, but Gretchen did her best to keep up when it came to reading the messages.

So it was that she found herself at Jen’s house the following afternoon. While Jen wasn’t as slim as Gretchen, she was closer in height than Kelly was, so they’d decided Gretchen had a better chance of fitting into her clothes. She did what she was told and showed up when they said to.

“This is going to be so fun,” Kelly said, rummaging through Jen’s closet. “Your foot’s only like a half a shoe size bigger than Jen’s, right?”

“I think so.”

“Some of those might fit her, then,” Jen told Kelly. “Every manufacturer sizes differently, so some of them are a little loose.”

Kelly stepped out of the closet with a pair of black pumps. “These are simple, but sexy. And they’re not open-
toe. I’m going to take a wild guess and say you haven’t had a pedicure in a while.”

“I clipped my toenails just yesterday, thank you very much.” Gretchen eyed the high-heeled shoes dangling from Kelly’s fingertips and shook her head. “I don’t think I can even stand up in those, never mind walk.”

“Just try them.” Kelly set the heels on the floor in front of Gretchen. “Women wear heels all the time. It’s not rocket science.”

“When’s the last time
you
wore heels?”

Kelly gave her an
are you crazy?
look. “I’m a police officer. You never know when I might have to run.”

“I wear them all the time,” Jen said. “But I think Gretchen’s right. She’s not going to be able to walk in those.”

“She should try. I think Alex is the first man she’s ever dated who was tall enough so she could wear high heels.”

Hoping she wouldn’t fall and break any bones, Gretchen slid her left foot into a shoe. As expected, they were a little tight, but not too bad. Then, holding on to Kelly’s shoulder, she got her right foot in. Instantly taller, she waited until she felt steady and then let go of her friend.

Jen smiled. “Stomach in, shoulders back, and pretend your head is attached to a bunch of helium balloons. Okay, now walk.”

Gretchen took a deep breath and made her way across the room. She was a little wobbly and stumbled twice, but with some concentration and her hands out for balance, she made it to the opposite wall without falling down.

“That was . . .” Kelly paused. “Not graceful.”

“So not sexy,” Jen said at the same time.

“It’s also not comfortable. I told you I couldn’t do this. I’m
going to tell Alex I’m having second thoughts about leaving Gram and the farm, and he should just go without me.”

“No!” both women shouted at the same time.

“I think he’d rather go alone than take a woman in barn boots.” She braced her hands against the wall and pulled her feet out of the pretty shoes.

“There’s a pretty wide range of footwear between heels and barn boots,” Jen said. “And that gives me an idea.”

Kelly nodded. “Boots.”

“It’s perfect.”

Gretchen was fast approaching the end of her ability to tolerate this conversation. “What’s perfect?”

“Hold on.” Jen disappeared back into her closet and emerged a minute later with a pair of boots.

They were far from barn boots, though. Black leather, with no heels, they looked soft and expensive. “Try these, Gretchen. You’re tall enough so nobody will think twice about you not wearing heels, and since it’s going to be an artsy crowd, you can make whatever style statement you want.”