Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Grace was surprised when she heard the front bell ring. Wiping her hands on her apron, she headed toward the front. She’d sent Andy home, worried that she was getting the flu. The girl had been working like crazy getting ready for the wedding scheduled later on this afternoon, but she’d had that vacant look in her eyes that foretold sickness.
Grace blinked when she walked out and found Owen, a dark and imposing storm cloud, standing amongst her beautiful flower displays. “What are you doing here?”
For a split second, her body moved forward to kiss him hello, before she stopped herself. They weren’t there. Yet. That darn kiss had been haunting her, though.
Owen shrugged, snowflakes melting on his dark coat as he took his hat off. “My chef needed cake flour, of all things, for tomorrow night. I drove by and saw your lights were on. Are you open?”
Grace made a face. “Not exactly. I have a young couple getting married in a few hours and my assistant went home sick with some kind of flu bug. I was just putting the finishing touches on their order before I hauled it over to the church.”
“They’re getting married on Christmas Eve?” he asked, one dark brow raised.
She nodded. “Apparently, they met at a Christmas party a few years ago. So, the date is important.”
“Do you need help?”
Grace’s mouth fell open and her brows went up. “You want to help me with the wedding?”
Owen frowned slightly, but nodded. “I’ll help. Grunt doesn’t need the flour right this minute.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Are you sure? It’s a lot of waiting around and minutia setting up.”
He gave her a single nod. “I’m good with minutia.”
Grace wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially if it meant spending time with Owen. “Okay. Grab that dolly.”
As always, they worked well together, and it was nice having help. The displays weren’t heavy, there were just a lot of them. The bride had gone with a lavender and ice blue color scheme for winter, so it was mostly roses and hydrangea, as well as some baby’s breath and faux crystals.
“What is all this stuff?” he grumbled at one point, and Grace laughed.
“Well, there’s bunting for the pews, displays for the altar, table centerpieces for the reception. This isn’t a very big wedding, so you’re lucky.”
Owen gave her an incredulous look at the boxes all around them with flowers poking out, and she laughed again. “Have you never been to a wedding?”
“I have, but I don’t remember any of this.”
“Well, the men usually don’t. This is mostly for the bride, to make her dream become reality.”
Owen shook his head, but helped her load her SUV. It was packed to the gills. When it came time to drive over to the church, she half thought he would insist on taking his truck, but instead, he settled into the passenger seat, a display with delicate white roses on his lap. His knees were crushed up against the dash, and she knew he’d put the seat back as far as he could.
Grace wanted to snap a picture, but she doubted he would let her. She doubted Angela would believe her, even if she had the picture.
The church was only a five-minute drive away. Gracie pulled into the loading area and parked. “Now it all has to go inside. And once the wedding is over, we have to get it over to the reception hall, a few blocks away.”
“We have to move all this stuff again?” he asked, disbelief written in his voice.
“Yup,” she grinned. “Luckily for you, the family will take care of the flowers after the reception.”
“I hope you charged her an extra fee for all this. It’s Christmas Eve, for God’s sake.”
Grace nodded. “Yes, there was an extra fee. It would have been different if I had a family or something.”
The quiet stretched between them. “No boyfriend, or anything?” Owen asked, his voice oh-so nonchalant.
She glanced at him, but he was looking out the window. They were still sitting in the car and they were on a timeline, but she paused. “I never would have kissed you if there had been a boyfriend in the background. I’m not that kind of woman. And you’re observant enough, you would have known if I had a man. I know you like to listen to gossip at the Bistro.”
He flashed her a dark look. “Who said that?”
“My friend Lila. She’s watched you. She says you perk up when my name or my family’s name is mentioned.”
“Well,” he said, waving a hand dismissively, “you’re the only people I really know in this town.”
“Hm,” she said, smiling, and climbed out of the car.
She circled the car and opened the back hatch. “Where is your family?”
“Montana. I still have a brother out there. And I think my dad.”
Frowning, she leaned against the back of the car and crossed her arms. “You don’t know?”
He shook his head, glancing at her, then away. “I assume they’re still there, on the family ranch. But I haven’t contacted them.”
“Do you not get along?”
He shook his head again and looked out toward the street, away from her. “No. We got along, usually. The government told them I was dead three years ago, though. Killed in a training accident.”
Grace gasped and immediately moved around in front of him, reaching for his arm. “Are you serious?”
He nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Yes.”
“And why wouldn’t you go see them, show them you’re alive?”
He narrowed his eyes and heaved a sigh. It was obvious he’d wrestled with this a lot. “Because I think my brother always felt like he was in my shadow. I was the oldest, first-born son, and Dad planned on handing the ranch over to me when he retired. Hayden wanted it, though. A lot more than I did. I had other plans.”
“I’m sorry, Owen,” she said. “That must be so hard. Everyone should be with family for the holidays.”
Then, before she could second-guess herself, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him.
His heavy arms wrapped around her, and though she was running behind, she stayed in his arms for several long, heart-pounding seconds, until he shifted. Then she drew back. But she really, really wanted to stay.
“The guys on the mountain are my family now,” he said, and his voice seemed a little more gruff than normal. “Come on, let’s get this unloaded.”
Grace directed him where to stack and she went to work on the church pews, but her mind was whirling. It sounded like a soap opera, the family being told their hero was dead and him showing up years later. Her heart ached for Owen, that he felt he couldn’t go home.
Grace pulled herself together enough to unpack everything and get everything in the right area. Owen followed along behind her, aligning everything to perfection. There were only a dozen of pews to decorate. Then she moved to the altar and unboxed the largest arrangements.
“Let me get that,” Owen said, coming up behind her when she tried to shift one to the side. “Just tell me where you want it.”
“Over another few inches. Perfect!”
Owen moved to the second one on the opposite side, and they did the same thing. When he stood up, he winced slightly.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Where do you want those?”
She directed him where to put the boxes, and she got through everything a lot quicker than she’d expected. The last box went into the bride’s dressing room, and they got there just as the family came in. The bride, Mallory Williams, gushed over her delicate, trailing bouquet of pale lavender roses and dangling ice crystals. Grace walked her through the church, as well, to make sure everything was where it needed to be.
“It looks perfect,” she said, with tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Grace. You made this so easy.”
“Well, this is a big day for you. Flowers need to be the easy part,” she laughed.
When she returned to Owen, he was looking at her oddly. “What?”
He just shook his head and brushed off his hands. “Now what?”
“Now we wait,” she said, shrugging. “If you want, we can go get a coffee.”
“What do you normally do when you’re waiting?”
“Normally, I go get a coffee and sit in my truck for a little. Then I sneak in and go upstairs to watch the ceremony,” she said, grinning. “As soon as it’s over, I head down to wrap things up and get them moved. The church has Christmas Eve services tonight, so I can’t leave anything behind.”
His eyes narrowed on her face. “How many weddings have you seen?”
Grace laughed, and pink filled her cheeks. “Oh, I don’t know. A hundred? Hundred and fifty?”
It was more like two hundred over the past five years, but she wasn’t going to admit that. The way he was looking at her told her he suspected, so she shrugged, laughing. “What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.”
“Yet, you’ve never been married.”
She shook her head, looking down at her nails. “Came close once,” she said, and shrugged. “It was when my dad got sick, though, and it just didn’t feel right. It didn’t break the guy’s heart when I cancelled the engagement. He laughed and said it just saved him the trouble, because he wasn’t into me anymore.”
Owen made a sound low in his throat, and when she looked at him, he seemed really angry. She appreciated that. “Come on,” she said, tucking her arm in his to lead him out of the church. “Let’s go get a coffee.”
They headed back to the car and climbed in. She cranked the ignition and adjusted the heater vents. “I wasn’t broken-hearted about the breakup. Compared to Dad being sick, it was a blip on the radar. You haven’t been married either?”
Owen had taken his hat off to sit in the car, and it rested on his knee. He ran his thumb over the hatband, and she wondered if he even realized he was doing it.
“No,” he said finally. “I had a girl I saw occasionally. She was in the Army as well, but we weren’t committed or anything.”
She gave him a considering look. “You seem a little disconnected from people,” she murmured.
Owen’s jaw hardened as he looked out the windshield. “I wasn’t always this way, but life has a way of changing you.”
“Granted.”
She reached for his left hand, angling his knuckles up. “I know you didn’t do this doing flowers.”
“No,” he said, his fingers tightening on hers. “Frozen hydraulic hose fitting.”
Before she could think better of it, she lifted his knuckles to her mouth for a gentle kiss, then she let his hand go.
They sat for a few moments, just enjoying the warmth of the car.
“I want to kiss you again,” he said, his voice even deeper and rougher than normal.
Grace grinned and glanced at him sideways. “Okay. I’ll let you.”
One side of his mouth tipped up, and he turned his head toward her. “I’m rusty.”
Her smile spread. “I think I can get you back into shape.”
Before she could say anything else, Owen had turned toward her more fully, cupped her jaw and leaned in for a kiss. There was no hesitation this time, no fumbling, and Grace melted into him. He tasted of peppermint, like toothpaste, but something a little more earthy, too. Energy snapped through her as his masculine scent enveloped her, and she lost all awareness of what was going on around her. It was like on the street yesterday. She hadn’t thought about anyone seeing her or them together, and she wasn’t sure she would have cared if they had. Owen was the most handsome man Grace had ever encountered, and she felt a little out of her depth with him. She couldn’t deny him, though. It never even entered her mind.
He drew back a little, looking down into her eyes. It should have been too close, but it somehow wasn’t. They were sharing breath in the small car, and if she wasn’t in the middle of a job, she would drive him back to her apartment for more than a kiss. It didn’t help that she was emotional because of the wedding today.
“Anybody can see us here,” he murmured.
“I don’t care,” she said, lifting her chin.
Immediately, he took her mouth again, and cupped her neck in his hands as he learned what she liked. Grace felt like she was in the middle of a tempest, but there was no way she was going to stop it. He kissed better than anyone else she’d ever been with, with his whole concentration. And he didn’t rush. With some guys, it seemed like the kissing was something they had to get through to get to the good parts. Owen took his time, moving from side to side and changing the angle as he learned what she liked.
Grace jumped when there was a knock on the window.
Owen jerked back immediately, leaving Grace reeling. She blinked at him, hard, and realized he was having just as much trouble coming back as she was. They’d been lost in each other, completely oblivious to everything around them.
Grace cleared her throat and turned back toward the steering wheel, then reached for the automatic window controls. As the cold air rolled in, Sheriff Hayes leaned down to look inside the car.
“Grace,” he said, then looked across at Owen. “Mr. Black.”
“Walker,” Grace said, and she could hear the quiver in her own voice. “Can I help you?”
“I was wondering if I could help you, actually,” he said, eyes narrowing under the brim of his hat.
“We’re waiting for a wedding,” Grace said, then cringed. That sounded like they were just waiting for a random wedding party to wander by through the snow, not necking in the car like teenagers.
“That’s right. Little Mallory is getting married. My daughter told me about it. Are you going to the wedding, Mr. Black?”
Owen cleared his throat. “No. I’m just helping Grace out today.”
“Hm,” he said, and Grace sighed internally. It was no secret that the sheriff was interested in her. He’d asked her out a couple of times, but she’d turned him down. The sheriff was a good guy, but she was not interested in pursuing anything with him.
“We’re going to get out of here and go get a coffee,” Grace said, filling the silence to try to cover her discomfort. “I will be parking here again, though, in a little bit.”
“I’ll let the shift know,” the sheriff said, then glanced between them again. “You folks have a merry Christmas.”
“You too, Sheriff,” Grace said. Owen didn’t say anything as the man turned and walked away.
Grace rolled up her window and broke into giggles as soon as he was gone. “Oh, my God. I’m sitting in a church parking lot necking. It was probably good that he stopped, because I don’t know that I could have,” she said, giving him a look.
Owen actually grinned, his thumb running over his hat band again. There was a satisfied look on his face. “You know he feels possessive of you,” he murmured.
Grace winced. “I know,” she sighed. “He’s asked me out a couple of times, but I’ve known him all my life. He was in school with my brother and was always hanging around, so it felt weird when he wanted more.”
Checking her surroundings, she shifted into gear and pulled out of the lot. Her hands were shaking with the aftereffects of Owen’s kiss, and she glanced at him. There was the slightest smirk on his lips, and she could imagine he had some kind of macho crap running through his mind. Something like, he had the girl, and the sheriff didn’t. “You seem smug.”
“I don’t mean to be, but…” he shrugged his broad shoulders, and the smirk spread.
Grace snorted and turned in front of the coffee shop. A car was pulling out as she pulled up, so she took the spot the car vacated. They climbed out and crossed the sidewalk. Owen held the door open for her to enter. As always, the coffee shop was bustling, and there was a line. Grace stopped behind an older gentleman and glanced over her shoulder at Owen. He stood relaxed, his hands hooked on his jeans pockets. Their eyes met, and she couldn’t help flush at the remembered feel of his lips on hers.
Owen Black was a dangerous, fascinating man, and her heart was in serious trouble.
Owen didn’t care that it was a little too warm in the car, or that his drink was a little too sweet. He only cared about talking to Grace and learning more about her. Her eyes flashed as she laughed about a screwed up job in New York, and he wanted to drag her back into his arms. The woman was like a drug to him, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with all the feelings she was churning up.
He’d kind of thought that if he spent more time with her, she wouldn’t draw him so hard, but it was quite the opposite. The more she talked and smiled and laughed, the more entranced he became.
And then they went into the church to watch the wedding.
Cars had flowed into the parking lot and well-dressed people had trouped up the steps into the church. At a few minutes before the hour, Grace had urged him out of the car and around the church to the side entrance where they’d taken in the flowers. He followed along as she led him through a dark hallway, then up a set of steps. She glanced at him at one point, a finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet. Then she’d let them through a door and onto the mezzanine level. From this vantage point, they would have a perfect view of the bride and groom.
Grace settled onto the bench, and he sat down beside her, fascinated at the way her expression lit up. It was obvious that this woman loved romance.
“Mallory didn’t have a great life growing up,” Grace said, leaning into him slightly, “so I’m so happy that she found someone to love her.”
The music shifted below them, and people quieted. The groom, a nervous-looking blond-haired man, walked out with his groomsmen and stood at the altar, facing the back of the church. Owen smiled along with everyone else as a tiny little boy and girl in wedding finery wandered down the aisle, throwing rose petals. Then came the bridesmaids, all dressed in very pale shades of purple. They lined up opposite the men and smiled as they turned to face the back of the church as well.
The music shifted again, and the wedding march played. Grace tensed beside him, and he looked at her. Her hands were clenched in her lap, and there was a dreamy expression on her face as she watched the bride walk down the aisle. Owen didn’t even look at the bride. He was too fascinated by Grace’s ever changing expressions.
By the time the ceremony drew down to the ‘I do’s’, Grace was a quivering mess. She pulled tissues from somewhere and blotted at her eyes and nose, and she gave him a laughing look. They watched the bride and groom exit as man and wife to a cheering crowd.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she stood when everyone was gone. “The emotion really gets me.”
“Obviously,” he said with a gentle smile.
Owen didn’t mind that Grace was emotional. She had a depth to her and an openness that he struggled with. She was right when she said he was very alone. He was. In the torture camp, he’d been friends with three men, but they’d all died over the course of their captivity. Over the past few years, his life had been transitory and even now, on the mountain, he struggled to connect with the men sometimes.
Was he afraid they were going to leave as well? Was that why he was keeping a distance between them?
Being with Grace reminded him that there was more to life than work and schedules and worry. She reminded him that there was love in the world, and hope.
Owen was quiet as they retrieved the boxes and started loading everything up again. It was a lot of work, and he was glad he was here to help Grace out. It would have been a lot for her to do herself.
She drove them to the reception hall and she showed him where to put everything. By the time they were done, his legs were aching, and he was craving a soft chair. They stood at the front of the hall and looked out. It was very pretty, he thought, and he could understand why a bride would want this.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping me,” Grace said, bumping into his arm.
Owen looked down at her. The tears were gone, but there was a vulnerability to her expression.
“It was interesting,” he said, and he meant it. “Certainly not what I expected to be doing today.”
Grace snorted. “Let’s get out of here. I’m dying for a glass of wine and something to eat.”
Yeah, that sounded good to him, as well, but he didn’t want to assume she meant together. When they arrived back at her shop, he climbed out, his back and legs aching. It seemed like the cold always made his bones ache more, and Dr. Elizabeth had warned him that he had arthritis setting in already. Thirty-four and he was dealing with arthritis.
Grace circled the truck to him, her golden eyes guarded. “Would you like to come up? I’ve had a soup simmering in the crockpot most of the day. I’ll do up some French Bread…” her voice trailed away, and he looked at her. He’d been with her all day, but he didn’t want to leave anymore than she wanted him to.
“I would love to stay for dinner.”