Helen Brenna - Her Sure Thing

He had to get out of this barn before he remembered exactly how long it’d been since he’d kissed a woman. That little peck he’d given last year to Missy Charms, the owner of one of Mirabelle’s gift shops, in an effort to test the waters of their friendship didn’t count. That kiss had fallen flat from both ends. Grace, he had a feeling, would be a whole different story.

Married, he reminded himself.

“For what it’s worth,” she murmured, “I’m sorry about causing a hassle over boarding Louie that first day we met.” Now that apology was sincere. “Arlo should’ve told you it wasn’t his business any longer and just to set the record straight.” He paused. “I wouldn’t have made you send Louie home.”

“So your bark is worse than your bite.”

“Don’t tell anyone, though, okay?” Clearing his throat, he turned toward the barn door. “By the way, you’re a little old to be sneaking through windows. Next time you feel the need to visit your horse in the middle of the night, try the door.”

“Does that mean I have your permission to trespass?” she asked, the remnants of a smile clinging to her voice.

“For now,” he called over his shoulder. “But be careful, Grace. You never know who you might run into while you’re lurking around a man’s property in the middle of the night.”

“That a threat or a promise?”

He stopped in his tracks, felt a strong stirring in his groin and smiled to himself. Too bad he couldn’t act on this sucker punch of an attraction he was feeling toward this woman. “Aren’t you married, Grace?”

“Not anymore,” she whispered, sounding almost breathless.

He turned to find her partially hidden in shadows, making it tough to discern her thoughts. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jeremy filed for a divorce last year.” She ran her fingers down one of the braids on Louis’s mane. “I signed the final papers just before I came to Mirabelle.”

Was it his imagination, or did her gaze just travel all over him only to linger for a split second longer on the growing bulge in his jeans? Now he remembered how long it’d been since he’d kissed a woman, touched a woman’s naked skin, let alone had sex. Too damned long. And he wasn’t going to be able to rely on a set of vows to keep his head clear and focused.

“Consider this fair warning. Think twice before starting something with me, Grace. I’m not sure you’ll ever be ready to give what I want from a woman.”

“Which is?”

“Nothing short of happily ever after.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t look the slightest bit shocked by his admission, and that made him want her all the more. Before he could put into action every shocking thought running through his mind about exactly what he wanted to do to Grace, he stalked out of the barn. He wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but his summer had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

“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.”