Here With You Read online

  “I’ll leave you guys alone then.” Grace turned to her car, but Brady stopped her with his words.

  “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

  “Oh. I can’t.”

  “I’m sorry. Of course, you have other plans.”

  Those sad eyes turned down, and hell if he didn’t look like she’d run over his puppy.

  “No plans. I don’t want to intrude though.”

  “You went out of your way to make us dinner. I don’t think that’s an intrusion.”

  “Your mom...”

  “She’s sleeping. She won’t be eating anything tonight. Maybe by dinner tomorrow. Something bland.”

  Kicking herself for not researching what foods Mrs. Marshall should be eating, Grace covered her face with her hands. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. I made lasagna. I should have asked—”

  “Carter and I are excited to eat a real meal that doesn’t include soup, toast, or take out. This smells amazing. Why don’t you come inside and join us?”

  Why was he being nice to her? He’d been sweet to her a few weeks ago at the festival as well. It excited and confused her. He did say us though. If Carter was there it wouldn’t be as awkward. And she didn’t want to be responsible for the kicking the puppy look.

  “Sure. Thanks.” They walked side by side until they reached the back steps. “Don’t all farms have a dog? I expected one to greet me last month when I came to work on my website with Carter. Figured he was out in the fields with you.”

  “Bandit died last year. He was fifteen.”

  Aaaand there goes the kicking the puppy look again. “I’m sorry, Brady.” She remembered the dog from her high school years. A chocolate lab, if she remembered correctly.

  “We talked about getting a couple rescues from the shelter once the busy season was over. But with Mom...” he trailed off and opened the door for Grace.

  Shit. She did it again. Puppy. Mom. What was next? Remind him of the father he lost?

  “We rescued Bandit a few months before my Dad died.”

  Yeah. True talent in bringing up sad memories.

  “I remember him. He used to run away. We’d find him wandering through our vines.”

  “The shelter said he’d been abused by men before, which was probably why he gravitated to your farm. Better female-male ratio.”

  Brady set the lasagna on the table and went back to the mat by the door to remove his shoes. Following suit, Grace kicked off her sneakers as well. The floor creaked, and she had the sense of being off balance. It wasn’t Brady’s clean, fresh scent that gave her a stumble. The orange and yellow linoleum floor was warped in places, curling up at the seams.

  The cabinets had to be original to the house. Solid, heavy wood, and doors that hung slightly off-kilter. The red and white checked curtains above the window at the sink were the only feminine touch in the room. The rest, from the low, cracked ceiling to the floral wallpaper, was like walking into a time warp.

  Brady’s tall frame filled out the space making him incongruous to the room.

  “You can leave your shoes on. Our floor has seen its share of... mess. In fact, I’ve been talking with Ty about renovating a few rooms. Checking to see if we have asbestos while we’re at it.”

  “Do you think you do?”

  “Mom does.” Brady read the post-it on the foil-covered pan. “Three-fifty for an hour? I don’t know if I can wait that long. It smells amazing.”

  Warmed by his compliment, she didn’t even try to hide her smile. “Let’s try four hundred and see what happens. It’s all cooked. Except the cheese mixture. There are eggs in it.”

  “Eggs?” Brady quirked his lip. “My eggs?”

  The lopsided grin transformed Brady Marshall from serious, stubborn, pain in the ass farmer to charming and sexy boyfriend material. Wait. Boyfriend material? No. Just because he had sex appeal to him didn’t mean he was right for Grace. Or her for him.

  Friends. Maybe. They could possibly be friends. Until Alexis reminded him how flakey and irresponsible she could be. The party animal not fit for a family guy like Brady.

  “I don’t know about that.” She eyed him up and down. The flirting came naturally. She couldn’t help it. “You don’t have the right plumbing for making eggs.”

  Carter stepped into the kitchen barking out a laugh. “Dude. What the hell did I walk in on?”

  Brady lifted the lasagna and turned toward the oven. “Grace made us lasagna.”

  “And your brother is taking credit for making the eggs.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it.”

  “You might want to take off the post-it on the lasagna. Wouldn’t want it catching on fire,” Grace pointed out.

  Carter laughed again and Brady opened the oven door, peeling off the note.

  “That would be one way to rush renovations on the kitchen.” Brady crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash. “Can I get you a drink while the lasagna cooks?”

  “Sure. Whatever you have is fine.”

  Carter opened the fridge. “Water, milk, and beer. Sorry. Slim pickings around here.”

  “She’s not going to want a beer, Carter. Her family runs a vineyard.”

  Like that mattered. Sure, Grace loved wine. Vodka was good too. And beer she didn’t mind in the right setting. Drinking it on her own, not so much. At a party or with two handsome men, yeah, she could keep up with the rest of them.

  “Grace’s been drinking beer since high school. I bet you can still do a keg stand,” Carter said.

  Who needed her sister to lower Grace’s ego and keep her reputation at the bottom of the pig pile? Carter and her old high school friends could do it just fine. He didn’t mean any harm in his teasing and had no way of knowing her party past was a sore wound still not healed.

  “I’ll have water, please.”

  Brady got her a glass and set it on the table. “Have a seat.”

  The air grew uncomfortable and thick, and it wasn’t just from her lasagna.

  “I really don’t want to be in your way...”

  “I’ve been sitting across from his ugly mug for too long. Bout time we have a pretty face in the kitchen. No offense, Mom,” Carter called over his shoulder, not loud enough to wake her if she was sleeping.

  “Are we going to disturb her out here?” Grace hadn’t had a full tour of the house, but had spent some time with Carter in the office space down the hall from the kitchen and had used the small bathroom across from it. The door past the office had been open, and she’d caught a glimpse of a four-poster bed and an off-white and green patterned quilt. Too feminine to be the boys.

  “She’s exhausted. Nothing’s going to wake her except pain.” Carter turned a chair around at the head of the table and straddled it. “I’ve got first shift. Brady’s on at midnight.”

  “That sounds...” Terrible. Exhausting. And wonderful of her sons to care so well for her. “Challenging.”

  “Yeah. If you wanna go up and get some shut-eye now I’ll keep an eye on the food. And our guest.” Carter winked at Grace and sipped his beer.

  Brady pulled out a chair across from her, his jaw tight, shoulders stiff. “I’m good.”

  Carter craned his neck behind him and picked up a deck of cards off a shelf. “We can pass time shooting the shit or playing cards. Lady picks.”

  “Cards?” she shrugged.

  “Good choice,” both Marshall men said at the same time.

  Shuffling the deck, Carter called the first game. “Poker. Jacks and twos wild.”

  “I didn’t bring any money.” Not that she had any to spare.

  “We can play strip poker,” Carter joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “We have poker chips, or we can play with something else,” Brady offered.

  “If we’re just playing with chips, I’m in.” Grace rubbed her hands together. She’d never played a live game with real people, only online while sitting in her bleak apartment outside Paris on a Friday night. And Saturday. An
d Sunday. And pretty much any day she wasn’t working or with Robert.

  His wife had been first priority, so Grace settled for online poker while sitting in her apartment all alone.

  “Jacks and twos it is.” Carter dealt the cards, and Brady divvied up the poker chips.

  Thirty minutes later the oven alarm went off, as did Carter’s phone. “Shit. I’ve gotta take this. Potential client. If Mom needs anything, can you cover for me?”

  “Of course.” Brady waved him away and slipped on the hot mitts. “I haven’t smelled homemade garlic sauce in ages.” He set the pan on top of the oven.

  “The directions say to let it rest for fifteen minutes.”

  “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

  Grace bit her lip at the compliment. Brady had been quiet during their card game. Carter had teased it was because the pile of chips was all in front of Grace. Now that Carter wasn’t in the room, the Brady from earlier was back.

  The one with the hook in his lip and warmth in his gray-blue eyes that warmed the tips of her toes all the way up to the tips of her ears. She couldn’t help the smile that erupted on her face.

  “That’s the nicest compliment anyone has ever given me.”

  Brady’s head flinched back slightly, and he frowned. “That wasn’t exactly a compliment.”

  “Oh.” Didn’t she feel like a fool? “It felt like one.” Grace tried to brush it off, embarrassed at misinterpreting his comment. “Where are the plates? I’ll set the table.” She got up and stood in front of one of the cabinets, not daring to open it without his permission.

  “You’re not who I thought you were,” Brady said quietly. He brushed his hand on the back of his neck and scratched.

  “I. I’m sorry. I’ll just... I’ll let you and Carter...” She backed away into the corner where her shoes were and bent to pick up her sneakers.

  “Grace.” Brady squatted beside her. “Don’t go.”

  “I...” She made the mistake of tilting her head and locking her gaze with his. Damn. The crooked grin was gone, but the sincerity in his eyes was real. No one had looked at her like that in ... ever. Like he really wanted her to stay, and not in a sexual way.

  Sex was easy. That look she recognized. Heated stares that focused more on her chest and lacked anything real. Anything substantial.

  Brady’s eyes weren’t full of lust. It was the warmth and sincerity that did her in.

  “I want you to stay. Keep me company, will you?” He took the shoe from her hand and dropped it to the floor, rising to his height, taking her hand in his so she had no choice but to stand as well.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” He licked his lips and she couldn’t help it if her gaze dropped to his mouth, wondering what his tongue and lips would taste like.

  Embarrassed at her staring, she lifted her chin to apologize again—for what, she wasn’t sure—and caught him doing the same, staring at her mouth. She unconsciously licked her bottom lip then trapped it between her teeth.

  Brady closed his eyes and dropped his hand from her elbow. “I think the lasagna is ready.” Grace nodded in agreement. “You went to the trouble to make this for us, so you sit. I’ll get the plates.”

  “But you—”

  “No.” He put a finger to her mouth, and she all but moaned at his touch. Brady must have noticed her reaction, but he kept it there, rubbing lightly along her bottom lip. “Sit.”

  She wasn’t one to take orders from anyone, especially a man, but she didn’t think her legs could hold her up much longer. She nodded and slipped into the chair she’d vacated a few minutes ago, her back, thankfully, to the counter. And to Brady.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SHIT. HE CROSSED THE line. Grace didn’t come over to be hit on. If anyone should be putting the moves on her it was Carter. A man closer to her age and her lifestyle. Free-spirited, social, and wanting to discover the world.

  Not a man who had no desire to leave his hometown, much less his land. Taking a minute to gather his composure, he stood in front of the cabinet and opened the door, staring blankly at the white and blue chipped plates.

  They were old when he was a kid; even older now. Not something Grace Le Blanc would dine on. Heck. The beat up farmhouse table wasn’t fit for someone like her to eat at. She’d spent the better half of a decade traipsing around Italy, then France. Dining at chic restaurants and shopping in designer stores.

  Not that he knew firsthand. It was what Alexis had told him over the years. She resented her sister gallivanting in Europe while she stayed home to work the vineyard. Brady had asked Alexis why she never left Maine, never traveled.

  Her response was exactly what he would have said if ever asked.

  “This land is my lifeline. To run your hands through dirt and seed, and watch something you plant grow and mature into a vine, later producing grapes you turn into wine. The process, the science, the natural beauty of it. No other job could complete me like this one does.”

  Brady hadn’t thought anyone other than his mother understood his love. Alexis had. And yet there was never a spark between them.

  Her sister, however, was another story. With nothing in common other than neighboring family farms, one she wanted nothing to do with, Grace triggered a visceral reaction in him.

  One he tried desperately to ignore. He wanted to dislike her. Especially after all the stories he’d heard Alexis tell, and that one incident on her prom night.

  Brady wanted to scoff at her silly idea to run a fashion boutique in the anything but fashionable Crystal Cove.

  He wanted to push her away because, at first glance, she appeared selfish, not caring for family values.

  With her sitting so close, smelling like angels and garlic, he wanted to wish her away. Or, at the very least, wish away the desire building within. Wish away the ache in his fingers as they tingled with the need to touch. Wish away the awareness of his rapid heartbeat every time she was near.

  Brady reached for the plates, chipped and stained with memories as old as the farm, and blinked away his wanting, his wishing.

  “I didn’t think of making a salad,” he said, setting the plates on the table. “I can make a vegetable. We have zucchini.”

  “Don’t bother on my account. I need to get going as soon as dinner’s done anyway,” Grace said without looking up at him.

  “Sure.” He turned to the stove and picked up the glass dish, forgetting to slip on the hot mitts. “Damn!” At least the burn on his hands distracted him from the burning in his gut.

  “Are you okay?” Grace jumped to his side and gathered his hands in hers.

  “Fine. Stupid is all. I thought maybe the dish was cool enough to handle,” he lied. No point in telling Grace it was her soft words and softer lips that made him forget.

  “Here. Run them under cold water.” Keeping his hands in hers, she led him to the sink and turned on the faucet.

  The cool water didn’t simmer the heat emanating from her hands. Her touch burned more than the dish and hurt almost as much. Hurt because he couldn’t act on the chemistry.

  Grace wasn’t here long term. And he was. Getting involved with his neighbor’s daughter, his good friend’s sister, was not a good idea.

  Not one bit.

  But her hands. Soft like her lips. One more touch. That’s all he wanted. To touch her lips.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Confused.”

  “Your hands?” Grace tipped her chin toward him.

  “Oh. Those.” It was the beer. Although he’d only had one. The lack of sleep. The stress. Being alone with a woman. The perfect storm to mess with his brain and put words in his mouth he didn’t intend to say, make body parts he had no intention of moving move.

  “Are you okay?”

  A stirring in his pants brought things to a whole new level. “Fine. Go sit.” He didn’t mean to bark at her. If she stood next to him a second longer she’d feel how not okay he was.

  If eyes
could flip him off, hers just did.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Longer week. I didn’t mean to snap.” He stuck the handle end of a spatula in his pocket.

  “You don’t owe me an apology, Brady,” she said from the table.

  And hell if her sweet voice didn’t irritate him even more. Where the hell was Carter?

  Carter. That’s right. Wasn’t it only a few weeks ago she was laughing with his brother? And thirteen or so years ago he found her naked in his fields after a night with Carter?

  Brady had no right to look or think of Grace with anything other than neighborly friendship.

  Using the hot mitts this time, he set the dish in the middle of the table and pulled out the spatula.

  “Do you want the honors?” He held the spatula to her and waited for her to accept it.

  “Sure. I’m not sure if it will look pretty when I serve it.”

  “Honey, if it tastes anything like it smells, you don’t need to worry.”

  Damn. She did that biting of her bottom lip thing again. He didn’t mean to toss the endearment her way.

  Grace took the spatula from him and, using the thin metal end as a knife, cut two neat rows. “I’m assuming you want a big piece.”

  “The bigger the better.” Shit. He did it again. Why was everything coming out like an innuendo?

  Grace gasped and continued slicing. Brady held up his plate for her, and she placed a healthy serving on his dish.

  Her slice wasn’t even half as big as his. “Is that all you’re eating?”

  “I don’t know how it tastes yet. If it’s good, I’ll take some more.”

  “So I get to be the guinea pig?” Brady smiled. He didn’t mind. His stomach was in knots from hunger, or from her, he wasn’t sure. Scooping up a heaping forkful, he blew on it, then bit down on the steamy layers of red sauce, cheese, and noodles.

  The first sensation was hot. It hadn’t cooled all the way yet. The second was of the rich marinara, and then, the garlic. Holy mother of garlic. Brady swallowed and picked up his beer to wash it down. He must have bit on a chunk of it in the sauce. It was good, a bit potent, but good.

  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”