No Ordinary Home

Frantic, she rebuilt the mental barriers that had slipped. Even so, part of her still wanted to pretend she could enjoy some of this time together. The pillows running the length of the bed between them offered the illusion of safety. She could appreciate his company without fear of him wanting more.

He flipped the channels, pausing briefly on a couple doing the dirty.

“Um,” she murmured. “We should watch something other than porn.” It had been so long, she couldn’t remember how making love felt. This man stretched beside her, in his confident easy male glory, made her sap run.

None of that, she ordered her unruly libido.

“Probably a good idea to switch.” He sounded subdued. “Let’s see what else is on.” He flipped channels.

“Hey! The Television Food Network. I want to watch.”

“You would. Naw. Let’s find a movie.”

They settled on The Bourne Identity. “This movie’s great,” Austin said.

“Macho spy thriller full of action. No wonder you like it.”

“Matt Damon looking pretty buff. No wonder you like it.”

“He’s okay.” She tried to sound nonchalant while her eyes were glued to the set. Buff understated it. He didn’t hold a candle to Austin, though.

She never saw the end of the movie, just quietly slipped under the covers when sleep claimed her. She thought she felt someone pull the covers over her shoulders.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE HEAT AGAINST his chest and belly burned with a flame Austin hadn’t felt in too long. His thumb stroked skin as velvety as the leaves of the geraniums he’d planted in pots in the spring, for his mother. Not that she’d noticed.

The woman in his arms smelled of coconut and exotic flowers.

His lips found her neck, her tiny mewls of pleasure a waterfall of delight.

He came awake slowly, the dream too good to give up, his hands caressing and exploring soft skin. She curled against him as though she could burrow inside of him. Whomever he’d slept with last night sure was affectionate.

Slept with!

His eyes flew open.

Gracie lay nestled against him as sweetly as a puppy against its mother. There was nothing sexual in the way her fingers curled around his arm, or the way her forehead lay in the curve of his neck, but it was morning, he was male, and she female. His first thoughts had been sexual.

If she knew, she would hate him for it. He knew she didn’t want him to think of her as vulnerable, but he did. She was. What would she think of him if she knew he wanted her?

He shouldn’t have made that nasty remark yesterday about her being too thin, but he’d been sick of her accusing him of being interested in only one thing and he’d snapped. What would she think if she woke up now and noticed that his body sure didn’t mind her being so thin?

Before she could feel the effect she had on him, he eased out of bed. Like a trusting puppy, she followed him, murmuring in her sleep, her hand caressing his arm. He found the gesture poignant and sweet, his thoughts changing, no longer sexual, but tender. He should move, get away from her, but he liked this natural, honest woman with her prickly defenses down.

The pillows he’d used to separate them had been tossed to the floor sometime during the night. He was pretty sure it hadn’t been by him.

She didn’t stir. He glanced at the clock. Seven.

The sun shimmering through the sheer curtains lit her face with a soft glow. Her hair, clean now and blue-black in morning sunlight, framed high cheekbones, a sharp chin and a stubborn jawline. Those fierce raven’s-wing eyebrows were less intimidating in sleep.

Her cheeks glowed pink against alabaster skin.

She cleaned up well.

Looking younger and not as hard-edged as she had yesterday, was this the real Gracie? Or was yesterday’s tough woman the real one?

He didn’t know. She had secrets. That much he could tell. She could keep them. He hardened his heart against the tenderness of a few moments ago. He didn’t need to carry anyone else’s burdens.

He grabbed a clean T-shirt and underwear, and yesterday’s jeans, and went to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. No sense having her wake up and catching him semi-aroused. She would stop trusting him.

So what? After breakfast, he would never see her again. He and Finn would be on their way to fish until they were sick of it.

* * *

GRACIE LAY STILL until she heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. Then she exhaled the breath she’d been holding since she’d rolled over and tried to follow the warmth of arms that had let her go too soon.

When her mind had registered where she was, who she was with and what she was doing, she had lain still with her eyes closed. Awkward.

Austin had rocketed out of the bed, probably propelled by her trying to cuddle with him, and most likely disgusted by her skinny body.

Tough.

People got thin when they didn’t have enough to eat.

She rubbed her arms. The room wasn’t cold, but she wanted him and his heat back anyway.

Those few moments before she had realized she was in the arms of a man she shouldn’t be with had been glorious.

It had been too long.

Which one of them breached the barrier Austin constructed yesterday evening? Probably her. A cuddler by nature, she missed it more than anything else, maybe even more than regular meals.

Jay had been good at cuddling. That was about the only positive memory she had of him, and about the only compliment she could give him. It had taken her four years to discover just how big a mistake she’d made when she married him. She hadn’t known him at all. Since the divorce, she hadn’t looked back.

She missed his hugs, though. Any human contact, in fact. Sensory deprivation was a tough thing.

She wanted to touch people. She’d had too little of it in her past life. Maybe that’s why she’d been drawn to Jay, and willing to overlook his flaws for too long, because he’d offered a warm pair of arms and a solid chest to cuddle against. Not to mention she’d been young and naive enough to believe his lies.

She crawled out of bed. She didn’t want to. It was the first clean bed she’d slept in in a long time. The first real bed, clean or otherwise. Her pillowcase smelled like a tropical island from her hair.

She pulled on her pants, so Austin wouldn’t see how skinny her legs had gotten. She used to have shapely legs. They were strong from all the walking, but too thin, pared to the bone by the miles she’d traveled.

When Austin stepped out of the bathroom in jeans and a snug-fitting white T-shirt, he looked good enough to have her consider climbing back into bed with him, and that was a shocker. She hadn’t been attracted to a man since Jay.

In fact, she’d thought her libido had died with news of his infidelities. Yes, plural. Devastating.

Boy, had she been wrong. Apparently, her libido had only been dormant and waiting for the right man to bring it raging back to life.

A drop of water fell from Austin’s damp hair and landed on his neck.

If she knew him well, if they were a couple, she would walk right over and lick it off and who knew where that might lead.

In those first few months, when Jay had still been wooing her, she’d adored the love play, the giggling, the sex.

Yes, sex. She missed it. Six years was a long time to go without.

Stop. Austin isn’t for you. No man is. Stop thinking about love games and desire. You can’t have them.

No sense getting maudlin and wishing for things that couldn’t be hers. Time to screw on her head right, to put the practical ahead of the whimsical.

It was time for her to hit the road. Before she did, she was taking one more shower and washing her hair again, just for the pure pleasure of it.

She didn’t say a word when she passed Austin and closed the door behind her. Neither did he.

Did he feel as awkward as she did?

She had gone to bed with a stranger, and had awakened in his arms. Oh, those arms. Oh, that warm touch.

Get a grip, Gracie.

As though she might not be able to use conditioner for another year, she slathered it on, even though her hair was short. She cut it regularly. Herself. It showed.

When she finished washing and dressing, she forced herself to look in the mirror. Austin’s body had reacted to her purely as any man’s would to waking up with any woman. What man would want her—an escapee from a Charles Dickens novel, a waif with big eyes in a too-narrow face, who wore ragged clothing and picked pockets for a living? Well, not for a living, but that was what she’d done to Austin yesterday.

Too bad he’d been a cop.

Too bad he was a decent guy.

She’d met every kind of person on the road. She could have stolen a wallet from a jerk, but no, she had unwittingly dipped her fingers into the pocket of the most decent guy she’d met in years. And, in the space of twenty-four hours, she already liked him.

Don’t go getting any ideas. It’s because he didn’t have you arrested when he could have. This is nothing more than gratitude, pure and simple.

Even so, she liked him more than she should, and far too quickly. Holy crapola. She needed to get away from him.

She left the bathroom to find Austin already packed and on the phone.

“Okay, we’ll see you in fifteen minutes.” He hung up.

He turned from the window. “Good morning.”

She said the same thing, just as quietly.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“What else is new?” he teased, as though they were good friends used to ribbing each other. “Come on. Let’s get going. Finn’s waiting.”

“Go where?”

“To breakfast.”

“You know I don’t have money. You fed me yesterday and last night and paid for this hotel room. I can’t take any more from you.”

“What are you going to do about breakfast?”

“Nothing.”

“Listen, I’m not going to let you walk away hungry. It isn’t in me to do that.”

She wanted food. She wanted what this man had to offer with no strings attached. He’d sure proven his decency last night. She’d curled against him and he hadn’t taken advantage. Other men would have. But it hurt to take, to compromise her independence. She couldn’t do it.

“It’s too hard for me to keep taking from you. I’ll go for breakfast—thanks—but only if we come back here afterward and you let me give you the haircut I promised.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving ridges in the damp waves. “That bad, huh?”

No. Not bad at all. “A bit.” She liked it long, but needed to give him something and this was all she had to offer.

“Okay.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “Deal.”

She took it with a sigh, relief flooding her. She didn’t like dealing with people, didn’t like owing, and no longer liked giving. Her current motto, Live and let live, and leave me alone, had served her well for six years. No need to change it now.

She would cut his hair, then leave. Run. Get away from this guy who tempted her with possibilities that just couldn’t be.

He zipped up his bag. “I’m done packing. Let’s go.”

“What about your other stuff?” she asked.

“What stuff?”

“The shampoo and conditioner, the body wash and toothpaste you bought yesterday.”

“Those are yours.”

“Mine?” she squeaked. Whole bottles. Not samples she managed to pick up at drug stores. Or tiny travel bottles that lasted through two shampoos.

“You think I want to walk around smelling like coconut and pineapples and strawberries? Go get it and pack it.”

Feet on fire, she scrambled back to the bathroom. No way was she leaving anything behind. She picked up everything he’d bought, but also took the bottles provided by the hotel. In the garbage can, she found the paper from the tiny bar of hotel soap and wrapped the bit that was left after Austin had used it. Waste not, want not.

It all went into her backpack.

When she left the room, he said, “You don’t have to carry that with you. We’ll be coming back after breakfast to check out.”

“This goes with me. I take it everywhere.”

“The room will be locked.”

“It goes with me.” It was a point on which she never compromised. Everything she owned was in her bag. Like a turtle, she carried her home with her. It wasn’t much, and it was cheap stuff, but it was all she had.

She walked with him out of the hotel and down the street until they stopped in front of a Mexican restaurant.

“Is this the one you mentioned last night?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to order enchiladas.”

“I don’t know. It’s breakfast. You might want huevos rancheros.”

“Ooh. You have a point.”

He reached past her to open the door. So strange. No one ever treated the homeless, the nomads of the world, with courtesy. Most times people ignored them, or didn’t see them, the invisible of the streets.

With the slightest touch at the base of her back, he directed her into the restaurant ahead of him. It should have offended her. She could make her way into a building on her own, thank you very much, but that feather-light, brief and respectful touch charmed her.

Mr. Decency.

“Finn might already be here,” he said.

He wasn’t. They got a booth by the window to wait for him.

They spotted him standing across the street in front of a low-rise apartment building, unmoving.

“What’s he doing?”

“His friend lives there. He’s going to visit her while we’re passing through. He hasn’t seen her since they were kids.” He gestured with his chin toward Finn. “That’s why we stopped to stay here last night instead of driving straight through to Denver.”

Austin pushed his menu aside. “You should let me drive you to Denver.”

“No.”

“That’s it? No discussion. No thank you for the offer.”

Gracie blushed. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you for the offer, but no.”

The waitress poured them coffee.

“Finn might be a while. Let’s go ahead and order.”

Thank goodness. The smells in this place had Gracie’s mouth watering. She ordered huevos rancheros. So did Austin.

Who was this guy who treated her so well? While they waited for their food, she asked, “What’s your story?”

He paused with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. “My story?”

“Yes. Where are you from?”

“Ordinary, Montana.”

The waitress brought a basket of warm tortillas. Gracie took one and bit into it. Heaven.

“Have you lived there all your life?” Her fascination with happy homes and secure childhoods seeped through. She couldn’t help sounding wistful.

“Yeah. I grew up there. The guy we’re visiting in Denver was the sheriff when I was young. He influenced me to enter law enforcement.” It sounded like an ideal life. Lucky guy.

“You said you’re a deputy, right? Think you’ll ever be sheriff?” She could see him in a position of authority. Easily.

“Probably.”

“People have to vote for you.”

“I treat the people of Ordinary with respect. They respect me in return.”

She studied his face. No arrogance. “You’re that sure of yourself? Think you can do the job?”

“I’ve been trained for it, but I also want to do it. It’s my life’s work. No doubts there.”

His life’s work. How did it feel to be so sure of yourself and your future that you’d already mapped out your life? How did it feel to know where you belonged?

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?”

“Why are you homeless?”

None of your business.

When she didn’t respond, he said, “You’re young and healthy with no apparent mental-health issues.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.” He sounded confident of her mental state, but how could he be? The guy didn’t have a crystal ball.

He was right, though. Her mind was sound.

“So? Why are you homeless?”

Thank goodness their meals arrived. She ate without answering.

* * *

HOLY LEAPING BATMAN.

Finn stood in front of the door to an apartment that might turn out to be a Pandora’s box, once again channeling the twelve-year-old kid who’d loved comic books, for whom writing and illustrating comics were more important than anything else on earth—and he hadn’t even seen the grown-up Melody yet, hadn’t talked to her and or seen the changes adulthood had brought.

Back then, he’d had no interest in girls—until Melody had exploded into his life, and had appreciated his work. Had loved it.

He’d wanted to write and illustrate comic books for the rest of his life.

Where had that boy gone? He’d grown up and had left foolish dreams behind. He lived in the real world now, working as a vet with a steady income, not as the cartoonist he’d always thought he would be.

Aw, hell, everyone had to grow up at some point.

He jiggled the keys in his pocket.

Nuts, he shouldn’t be this nervous, not as a grown man. His heart raced as though he were a scared kid who’d been locked in a dark basement. Crazy. Someone was playing a nasty trick on him, turning his nervous system into an arcade game, with balls of both excitement and dread careening every which way.

Melody Chase had played a trick on him twenty years ago when she’d run out of his life.

Come on, man, get real. She didn’t play the trick. She was a kid. She went where her mother told her to go when she told her to.

Yeah, I know, but she never called. She never wrote.

He’d been crazy about her, but in her mind, he’d been what? A footnote? A blip on the radar of her existence? Just a boy who’d kept her distracted in the hospital with card games and cartoon drawings...and that was it? Was that all he’d been to her, while it had taken him too freaking long to get over her?

Yeah, he was still mad, even though he knew it was that twelve-year-old kid’s unreasonable feelings that lingered. This wasn’t the rational response of a grown man. He raised his hand to knock. He wanted to see Melody anyway, just to see if she was as perfect as in his memories.

How much had she changed? How much had he? Would she like what she saw? Did it matter? God, he’d been such a hopeless kid with a childish crush. He was a thirty-two-year-old man now, not a boy given to flights of fancy.

He’d had plenty of girlfriends. No need to be nervous.

His knock echoed loudly in the empty hallway.

He’d measured all other women against his childish memories. Not fair to the women he’d dated. Not fair at all.

What if he’d imagined the crush she’d had on him all of those years ago?

Didn’t matter. She was in trouble. She needed him. He was here.

He ran his fingers over his hair, bringing it under control. He should have gotten that homeless chick to trim it.

Footsteps approached the door from the other side. He swallowed.

The door opened...and there she was.

Melody.

Words backed up in his throat. He was a smart guy. He could string sentences together. Normally. Not now. Not a single word came to him other than her name.

“Melody.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat.

She’d grown up, not much in height, but in maturity. So pretty.

Her smoky-gray eyes widened, misted, softened. “Finn,” she whispered.

If she hadn’t invited him here, if he’d met her on the street, he would have known her, would have recognized her striking face, and her full lips—the kind of lips a lot of women spent good money to get. He knew women’s lips. These were real.

When his gran had been bedridden after a stroke, he’d painted comics on her bedroom wall to entertain her. Melody had been the heroine in those stories.

No wonder.

She could get any man’s pulse racing.

They stared at each other, frozen in a bubble of both memory and anticipation. Tears formed in her soft eyes but her mutinous chin jutted forward. She’d always been a fighter, but what was she fighting now?

Her lips trembled and she pressed them together, defiance so clear on her face that Finn knew she’d fought this battle many times before.

He couldn’t stand to watch her like this—defiant, yes, but also vulnerable, as though he might find her lacking in some way. What did she have to feel vulnerable about? Had she guessed he was still angry, even after all this time?

Gently, as though she were a wild and balky horse he had to calm, he wrapped his arms around her. The moment seemed to call for it.

A sigh slipped out of her and she melted against him, holding him close with her arms hard across his back. He sighed. He still meant something to her.

He nuzzled his chin against her soft dark hair, so damned glad it had grown back in after the fire. The damage hadn’t been as great as he’d feared.

When she eased out of his embrace, he asked, “Can I come in or are you going to make me stand on this doorstep all day?”

A shaky laugh burst out of her. He remembered that laugh. “Yes, of course. Come in.”

He stepped into a sparsely furnished but comfortable apartment. Nothing was cheap. Whatever she’d done with her life had been good. She wasn’t in need.

His pulse beat in his ears. She was safe. All of those years of worry for nothing.

After the way she’d left town, he’d always worried. Before rational thought could stop his unruly tongue, he blurted what he’d been sure he could control. “Where the hell did you go?”

She’d come into his life in dramatic fashion and six weeks later had left just as dramatically.

He’d missed her, had ached for her, the lost friend who had never once, not once, bothered to stay in touch with him so he would know where she was, so he would know she’d cared as much about him as he had about her.

She’d never called to let him know she was safe.

How dare she disappear for so many years and then contact him ten years later, out of the blue, with letters. Great letters, yeah, but not her, and not to say I’m coming back, but only to chat. To touch bases. To give him piddly, stingy bits of her life, but not the whole thing.

She didn’t answer. He gripped her shoulders and all of those years of worry spewed out of him. “Melody Chase, where the hell did you go?”

* * *

MELODY STARED AT the boy she’d dreamed about so many times over the years. He wasn’t a boy any longer. He’d grown handsome like his father, not as tall, but lean and strong, his arms ropey and muscular. His vet work must include more than just domestic animals. But then, Ordinary, Montana, was a ranching community. He had to be a farm vet, too.

The women of Ordinary must crawl all over him, a modern-day James Dean with darker hair, but the same sexual intensity.

Thick hair curled in a wave back from a broad forehead. His black eyelashes were longer than hers, for Pete’s sake, and framed silver-gray eyes.

Where her eyes were a soft smoky-gray, his were keen and sharp, with cleverness snapping like bed sheets hung out to dry in a brisk wind.

He’d grown more beautiful with age, while she’d become more bizarre.

Life wasn’t fair.

But then, hadn’t that been the story of her life?

Open-heart surgery when she was a kid and getting burned in a car accident at eleven, then spending years on the run, left a woman feeling somehow diminished, less than others, especially good-looking men.

He had a right to be angry. She had been taken away from Ordinary suddenly and hadn’t contacted him for ten years.

“My mom wouldn’t let me get in touch with you.” But Melody knew she should have defied her and found some way to let him know she was safe.

Finn frowned. “Why not?”

“She was afraid my dad would find out.”