Defending Hearts (12 page)

“It’s good to get out once in a while,” Ida said. “But I think we’re both glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you had a good time, Gram. Was it crowded?”

“It was
very
crowded, but I met a lot of nice people. I gave out a lot of those business cards we printed up, with the picture of the sweater set on the back, and I got two orders before I even left.”

“That’s great, Ida. As the holidays get closer, you might actually have to turn people away.”

“I hope not. I knit pretty fast, but I don’t want to sacrifice quality. I’ll just see how it goes.”

She looked excited and hopeful, but he could also see how tired she was. She’d probably stayed up too late, talking with her friends, and then topped it off with a long walk around the convention center today. Gretchen looked tired, too, but for an entirely different reason.

Alex leaned back against the couch and let the two women talk. His mind returned to the conversation with Gretchen about his marriage to Laura, wondering what had prompted the question.

She’d seemed particularly interested in how he thought his profession had been a factor, but maybe that was his imagination. Her comments about her relationship history had made it clear she didn’t have any problem with enjoying him for now, and then putting him out of her mind.

It stung a little, but it also eased his mind. He’d enjoyed having sex with Gretchen even more than he’d anticipated, and he already wanted to do it again. Even if being disposable bugged him on some level, knowing she didn’t have a habit of romanticizing things actually made it easier, because he didn’t have to worry about any hurt feelings when it was time for him to leave.

“It’s going to be nice to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Ida announced, pushing up out of her rocking chair. “I think I’m going to let Cocoa out one last time and then go upstairs.”

“I’ll carry your bag up and put it outside your door,” Alex told her.

After he did that, he went back downstairs just in time to say good night to Ida and Cocoa. And then to Gretchen,
who announced she was turning in a little early, too. He told them he’d lock up and watched them all go up the stairs, smiling at the way they talked right up until they parted ways at their bedrooms.

He went through the house, locking both doors and turning lights off, and then went upstairs to a bed that felt a lot more cold and lonely than it had just two nights before.

—

O
n Monday, Gretchen had to run into town to pick up a prescription for Gram at the pharmacy. The doctor had been impressed with her lower blood pressure, so he was making a few adjustments to her medications.

Since she was already in town, she decided to pop over to the high school and see Jen. She’d be in her office, as would most of the staff as they geared up for the start of the school year.

The secretary told Gretchen to go ahead back to Jen’s office, where she found the door to the guidance office standing open. Jen had her head bent over a document and was rubbing her temple as she read.

“School hasn’t even started yet and you have a headache?”

Jen looked up, then dropped her hands to the desk. “You have no idea. The kids start a week from tomorrow, but I swear there are new rules and new paperwork every year. I could literally move into this office and work twenty-four hours a day and still never be done.”

Even though Jen was one of the very lucky members of the administration who had a window in the ancient brick school, it sounded like Gretchen’s worst nightmare.
“Hopefully the fall will be a little easier than the spring was since you can hold playing football over their heads again.”

“Some of them. Others? It’s all I can do to keep some of them coming to school on a regular basis, and I know they’re going to drop out as soon as they find jobs. Sometimes I think it’s time to move to a big city and get a job at some giant high school.”

“I think you’d have even more stuff on your desk. It would just be a different kind of stuff. And it doesn’t matter how many kids there are. You’ll care about all of them.”

“True.” Jen sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Sit down. Tell me what you’re up to.”

“I had to pick up something for Gram, so I thought I’d pop in and say hi. See what’s going on besides back-to-school craziness.”

Jen shrugged. “This time of year, it’s mostly just about work. What’s happening out on the farm?”

“Work.” She smiled. “A little bit of playing.”

“Really? So this taking-in-a-boarder thing is really working out for you.”

Gretchen laughed. “I’d like to think it wouldn’t have worked out the same way with just any random stranger. But I’m enjoying having Alex around. For now.”

“For now. That’s what Kelly said, too.”

The situations were entirely different, but Gretchen didn’t bother pointing that out. Everybody could think whatever they wanted to. “Speaking of Kelly, was Chase home this weekend?”

“It took her an hour and a half to answer my text on Saturday, so I’m guessing he was.” Jen picked up a pen and
started doodling in the margins of a notepad. “Alex and Chase stay in touch now, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Maybe not a lot, but I know they had lunch together a while back. And Alex mentioned a text from him about something.”

“That’s good. That they reconnected while they were here in town for Eagles Fest, I mean. Do you know if he stays in touch with any of the others?”

Like Sam Leavitt? “I don’t really know.”

“I was just curious.” She was doodling so hard, Gretchen was surprised she didn’t rip the paper.

“You know you can talk about him, Jen. To Kelly and me, I mean.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” She sighed and tossed the pen down. “When we . . . that night, it was an unplanned, heat-of-the-moment kind of thing, and when you’re not planning to have sex, precautions aren’t always taken.”

When Jen paused, Gretchen assumed she was supposed to say something awesomely supportive and knowledgeable, but all she had was “Oh, no.”

“I got very lucky,” Jen continued. “I got a phone call from my doctor last week with the last follow-up. I tested negative for anything and everything that can be tested for.”

Relief made Gretchen sag against the back of the chair. “Oh, I’m so glad.”

“I guess if I was going to have stupid, reckless sex one time in my life, I picked the right time of the month and the right guy. Clean and never to be seen again.”

“Yeah. Don’t do that again, because that might be like winning the unprotected-sex lottery. You don’t want to tempt fate too much.”

“I know.” Jen looked at her and smiled almost reluctantly. “It was so very freaking hot, though. That’s the part that really pisses me off.”

“Very-freaking-hot sex pisses you off?”

“Yes, it does. I’ve had good sex before. I’m not really shy about making sure it’s good for me. But Sam . . . It’s so unfair that he rolls into town, sets the sex bar incredibly high for the rest of my life, and then rolls back out again.”

Gretchen sighed. “So now your qualifications are handsome, intelligent, financially secure
and
better in bed than Sam Leavitt?”

“Yeah. So the good news is that I’ll never make you wear an ugly bridesmaid dress.”

“You need to take those expectations down a notch. Or maybe you can come live at the farm and we can grow old together.”

“You really don’t think you and Alex will go anywhere?”

“Alex is going to go lots of places, but without me. That’s just the way it is.”

Jen gave her a sad look. “I wish it was different, because he seems like a really great guy.”

“He
is
a really great guy. Just not the right guy for me.” When Jen’s phone buzzed indicating she had an incoming call, Gretchen jumped at the chance to get away from this conversation. “I’ll let you get that. If you see Kelly, tell her I said hi.”

Jen waved with one hand while she picked up the receiver with the other. Gretchen made her way through the maze of offices to the exit and breathed in the warm fresh air. Being cooped up in that school all day had been torture for her as a kid, and she didn’t like being in the building any more as an adult.

After picking up Gram’s medicine, she decided to run into the market for a few things. And more grapes. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anybody go through as many grapes as he did, and now he had her and Gram hooked on them, too. If this pumpkin thing ever went south, maybe she’d turn the field into a vineyard and grow her own damn grapes.

G
retchen finished brushing the last of the three horses with a relieved sigh. She’d taken them each for a short ride, just for a change of scenery, and the switching of the saddle each time wasn’t fun for her back.

“You won’t be with me much longer, guys,” she said as she secured the stall. Cinnamon snorted and tossed her head, so Gretchen moved down to her stall to give her a nose rub. “I know you like being with the kids. Soon, doll. I promise.”

“Do they ever come ride them?” Alex asked from behind her, and Gretchen spun around.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry. I just assumed you heard me.”

“No, I didn’t. And they haven’t been up very much this
summer. To be honest, I don’t know why they don’t just leave the horses down south. They used to come up a lot more often, but the older the kids get, the busier their lives seem to be. Did you need something?”

“Nope.” He stepped closer to her, his intent suddenly clear in his eyes. “Just visiting.”

“I was going to check the pumpkins next. Make sure the rain we had last night was enough for them.”

“Have you ever had sex in the hayloft?”

Well, that certainly got her attention. “Is this some kind of farm girl fantasy of yours?”

He hooked a finger in the front of her jeans and tugged her forward. “Must be one of those weird proclivities your grandmother was worried about.”

“Okay, but despite what it might look like in movies, hay is not actually very soft.”

“So what you’re saying is that I need to smuggle a blanket out of the house.”

“A blanket would be nice, yes.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Gretchen stared after him, unable to believe he was actually going in to get a blanket. It was almost the middle of the day, for goodness’ sake. And how was he going to explain trying to smuggle out a blanket? He couldn’t really shove it down his pants.

Sure she’d seen the last of Alex for a while, she finished up cleaning up and was just about to leave the barn when he stepped back inside and pulled the door closed behind him.

Under one arm was a folded-up quilt, and dangling from his other hand was a wicker basket.

“You have to be kidding me.”

He grinned. “I can be enterprising when I need to be. I told Ida the light was perfect to get some shots of you out in the field and I wanted to walk, but then I very sadly realized it was too close to lunchtime.”

“She made us a picnic lunch? To eat in the field?”

“Yup.” He held up the basket.

“So now I have to hide in the hayloft to eat my lunch.”

Shrugging, Alex started toward the wooden ladder. “We can do that, too.”

Part of her could hardly believe his audacity. He’d fibbed to Gram and not only gotten a blanket, but a picnic lunch, too. But another part of her—namely parts of her directly involved in orgasms—didn’t care how he’d pulled it off.

By the time she got up the ladder, Alex had set the picnic basket off to one side and was spreading the quilt over some hay bales. Then he sat down on it and bounced a little, as if testing a mattress. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect.” She straddled his lap, bunching the front of his T-shirt in one hand. With the other hand, she tugged his hair, pulling his head back so she could press her mouth to his.

His hands gripped her hips, pushing her down against his denim-clad erection. When she dipped her tongue between his lips, he responded with a hunger that matched her own. His fingertips pressed into her flesh, and his hips lifted from the hay bale. Gretchen ground against him, the delicious friction making her throb.

Alex caught her lower lip between his teeth, biting down until she moaned. His hands rocked her hips gently,
sliding her back and forth along the length of him. She’d never hated clothing as much as she did in that moment.

“We have too many clothes on,” Gretchen whispered against his mouth.

“We can fix that.”

A few minutes later, she was spread naked on the blanket-covered hay bales, under Alex. He was just as naked, except for the condom, and Gretchen shivered in anticipation.

She ran her fingertips across the smooth, hard planes of Alex’s chest before bringing her legs up so she could use her heels to pull him closer. She wanted him inside her
now
.

He never broke eye contact with her as he lowered his hips and pressed the head of his erection against her. The muscles in his jaw worked as he slowly slid into her, tormenting them both. When she tried to lift her hips, he pulled back the same amount.

“Are you in a hurry?” he teased, but the husky rasp of his voice told her he was on the ragged edge of self-control. But still he didn’t bury himself in her. Instead, he taunted her, pulling back a little more each time until her hands curled into fists and she wanted to scream.

He brushed his thumb over her nipple, causing a delicious ripple through her body. “I’ve had a few fantasies about you and this hayloft, but this is better.”

“I like that real me is better than imaginary me.”

He moved his hips in excruciatingly slow circles, deliberately trying to drive her crazy. “Real you is amazing. And my fantasies tend to be a little rushed in the shower, due to the hot water situation.”

An image of him in the shower, taking himself in hand
while the water beat on his broad shoulders, had her raking her fingernails over his back.

Alex drove into her then, burying himself so deep within her, she almost came immediately. A small cry escaped her lips before she could bite it back, and she felt a shudder run down his spine. The muscles of his back worked as he moved in and out of her, slowly and with long, deep strokes.

Gretchen could never touch him enough to get her fill. She ran her hands over his back, his shoulders, over the flexing muscles of his upper arms. When she slid her hand down the side of his jaw, Alex turned his head and caught her finger in his mouth. He sucked hard, and she whimpered, raising her hips because she wanted more.

He reached down and took her left leg, pulling it over her right until she was turned away from him. With her foot on the floor and her other knee on the hay bales, he thrust deeper and harder, and Gretchen’s muscles tensed. She panted, hovering on the brink.

“Come for me, Gretchen,” he urged, his voice harsh with restraint.

She couldn’t hold it back. Her muscles spasmed, clenching and releasing as he drove into her relentlessly, not letting up until she gasped his name, her fingernails digging into the blanket-covered hay.

When he came, he gripped her hips hard, pounding into her before leaning over to rest his forehead on her back. After a few moments so they could catch their breath, he pulled free of her and then tugged her sideways until they were both lying on the hay.

She turned so she could face him, and he kissed her. “I’m officially adding a farm girl and hayloft fetish to my list of possible weird proclivities.”

Farm girl.
Gretchen closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as he ran his thumb along the line of her jaw. “You make me want to be more.”

“What?”

Dammit, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Forget it.”

“Not a chance.” The tip of his thumb skimmed over her lower lip and she shivered. “Look at me, Gretchen.”

She did, looking into his dark eyes. “I just meant that you’re probably used to . . . a more upscale woman. Fancy hotels, maybe. Nice sheets. All I have to offer is a hayloft.”

“Honey, there is nowhere else I’d rather be right now than in this hayloft with you.”

Right now.
She caught the words, but couldn’t tell if they meant anything or if she was reading too much into it. But she did know she didn’t want this fun interlude to turn into something serious. “You know what’s really nice about this hayloft?”

“Besides you being naked in it? What could be nicer?”

“There’s a picnic basket with food in it.”

He laughed and reached for his pants. “You do help a man work up an appetite.”

She skimmed her hand over his back. “Mmm. But I’m also pretty good at helping you work
off
the calories, too.”

“Very true.” He tossed the pants back on the floor and crawled back over her. “I think she put cookies in there. Maybe another pre-lunch workout would make me feel less guilty about eating them.”

—

A
lex met Coach McDonnell for breakfast at O’Rourke’s because it was one of the few times the man would sit still. Once the boys showed up for tryouts, the coach didn’t rest until the football season ended.

But once a week, if he could, Coach would go to the restaurant for breakfast because his wife had taken strict control of his diet when his cholesterol levels concerned his doctor. Coach was a man who felt any life that didn’t include the occasional hash omelet or a side of bacon with breakfast wasn’t worth living, and Mrs. McDonnell seemed willing to pretend she didn’t know.

“How’s it going, son?” Coach asked once they’d been given big mugs of coffee and ordered their meals. “I haven’t seen as much of you around the field.”

“I can only use so many pictures of the kids running around in practice jerseys. I’ve spent some time trying to write but, to be honest, it’s not easy.”

“You wrote some damn fine essays in high school, but pictures were always your thing.”

“It’s more than that.” Alex hadn’t really articulated what he was feeling about the project, even in his own mind. But this was Coach, and if ever there was a man Alex could talk to, it was him. “I guess I’m having some reservations about the project and I’ve been trying to ignore them. Needless to say, that’s a one-way ticket to writer’s block.”

“What kind of reservations?”

Alex raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. “I don’t know. Like with Hunter Cass. He talked to me a while back. You know, his part in the story was probably the
most compelling to me. But when he was telling me how things are better, it just felt so personal. I can’t imagine putting a book out there that talks about some of the hardest times his family’s been through.”

“Isn’t that your job? To make stories feel personal to the person reading them? To make people who look at your pictures feel the emotion behind them?”

“Yeah.” He had a point. “But it feels like everybody’s looking forward now, and maybe looking back doesn’t do anybody any good.”

Coach leaned back in the booth and gave him one of those direct looks Alex remembered from his youth. “Why’d you come back here, son?”

“I felt like the story was unfinished.”

“Whose story?”

Alex opened his mouth to answer, hesitated, and then closed it again. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been traveling for a lot of years, taking your photographs, and you kind of became a man with no home. Home is what keeps you grounded.” Coach shrugged, rubbing the spot on his Eagles polo shirt between the top and second button like it was some kind of nervous habit. “Maybe you weren’t done being a part of something again.”

“I guess you could be right.” He took a sip of coffee, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with that realization. “The fundamental problem that leaves me with is the fact that my career kind of depends on me moving around the world at will. I can’t just park myself in an office and wait for compelling human interest stories to happen outside my window.”

“No, but you can keep it in your mind that you need to
recharge and reground yourself once in a while
before
you reach the burnout phase. What are you going to do with the story you’ve built so far?”

“I don’t think I’m going to write a book. My subconscious seems to agree that’s not the right way to go. I’ve run a few ideas by my agent and he thinks he can sell it as a web feature. Basically, a magazine would run an abridged story and extract in the paper edition, with the web address for the full feature. On the website would be a longer, more in-depth look at Stewart Mills. It would not only have photographs through the article, but it could have an accompanying photo gallery. I’ve done it once before and it’s very effective.”

“That sounds like a good compromise.”

“It’s long enough so I can tell the story I wanted to tell, but short enough so people don’t expect the nitty-gritty personal details, you know? Really focus on where everybody’s going and less on where they’ve been.”

Coach looked up as the server brought their breakfasts, giving her a warm smile. “That looks amazing. Thank the cook for me.”

“Sure thing, Coach.” She turned to Alex. “You need anything else?”

“No, I’m all set. And it looks delicious.” He eyed the plate when she’d walked away, taking in the mound of scrambled eggs and strips of bacon, to say nothing of the butter-soaked homemade toast. “They don’t skimp on portions around here.”

“No, they don’t.” Coach chuckled as he put cream and sugar in the coffee she’d refilled for them. “Mine are those fake eggs, though. Waitress accidentally let it slip a few
weeks ago, and Cass confessed that she and Helen were in cahoots. I let her think they’re getting away with it, though, because this sure isn’t fake hash. I know how to pick my battles.”

Alex laughed and dug into his eggs. “If I stay in this town much longer, I’m going to have to buy bigger pants.”

“So how are things between you and Gretchen?”

Alex wasn’t sure if that segue from staying in town much longer to his relationship with Gretchen was coincidental or deliberate on Coach’s part. “We’re, uh . . . enjoying each other’s company.”

“She’s a pretty girl. And the Walkers have always been good people.”

Alex nodded and shoved food in his mouth so he’d have an excuse not to reply. Though Coach was the go-to guy for advice and leaning on, he found himself strangely reluctant to talk about Gretchen with him.

“You know, after her grandfather passed away, nobody thought those two women had a chance of keeping that farm. They sure proved everybody wrong.”

“It’s not easy,” Alex said. “They both work hard, but most of it falls on Gretchen.”

“She’s probably one of the most grounded women I’ve ever met, and she definitely has a strong sense of home and family.” Coach pointed a forkful of hash at him. “Interesting mix, you being a guy with no home at all.”