chapter 8

*Rob*

I’m usually up at first light—what can I say? military habits die hard—and today is no exception. It is exceptional though because I wake tangled up with Grace, naked in a blanket, diagonal across her bed after the absolute best night I’ve spent in my life. I shift slowly, and she slides into a warm, wonderful, girly-smelling pool beside me, murmuring in her sleep before she flops over onto her side and snuggles her back against my chest.

I’m up, that way, and I’m itching to wake her up by running little kisses along her spine. It’s an act of divine intervention that I ease out of bed instead. Our shoes and clothes are strewn all over Grace’s bedroom floor, the bedside lamp is still on and the curtains are wide open, but it’s not likely someone would be driving by to see anything, so I shut the lamp off without further thought about it.

Picking my jeans out of the wreckage of our clothes, I kick the rest of them into a pile out of the way as I slip into them, then pad downstairs barefoot to start some coffee. I don’t cook, beyond what Grace taught me—which is a couple meals and peanut butter toast for breakfast. It’s the first time since I moved in here last fall that I regret there isn’t delivery. I know the diner in town serves breakfast, and I’m debating ordering something for pick-up when I catch sight of myself in the powder room mirror.

Nope. Not gonna happen, I think, taking one look at my hair. It normally does whatever it wants anyway, but this morning, it’s doing what Grace wanted it to last night. It’ll take more work than I care to invest in my appearance to make myself publicly presentable, so I scrap the idea of take-out and opt for a lovingly prepared, exactly-as-Grace-likes-it cup of joe.

It’s the kind of thing I remember my dad doing for my mom, and I stop myself before I get too far wondering if he had the same intentions for it that I do. I pause on the way upstairs to snag my keys from the floor and hang them on the hook and to scoop up both my and Grace’s shirts off the stairs.

*Grace*

“Ohhhh,” I sigh, feeling kisses trail down my neck then groan as, under the covers, Rob teases first one nipple then the other with slow circles of his tongue. “We should stay in bed so you can do that all day.”

“Mmmm. There’s absolutely nothing I’d like better,” he replies, voice muffled by the blankets. He draws one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and I arch my back into him, threading my fingers into the thick spikes of his hair.

“Unfortunately, I need to leave about noon to pick up my parents. I’ll get them settled for the night and be home about dinner time. I can pick something up so you don’t have to cook.”

Lifting the covers high, I raise my head to look at him. “They’re arriving today? Why didn’t you tell me?” My brows draw together in a frown. “And why are you putting them up? Why can’t you bring them here?”

Rob casts a reluctant glance at my nipples, then kisses each one. “I’ll be right back,” he assures them. Dragging himself up, he explains, “They can come here, but it’s not my house, Grace. I wouldn’t have presumed.”

“And apparently you didn’t intend to ask.”

“Actually, I did. Then you kissed me.” His gaze drifts away briefly, remembering. When it returns, his eyes twinkle with amusement. “After that, there was nothing left in my head.”

I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face. “Good to know we have the same effect on each other. But,” I pause for emphasis, “you haven’t seen your parents in how long?”

“Twelve years.”

“Oh, Rob.” My heart aches for him. He’s worked so hard to make this happen. “Bring them here. There’s room and this is where you are. Unless—.”

“Don’t even think it,” Rob interrupts, his tone firm. “This is where I am. And as long as you’ll have me, this is where I intend to stay. Don’t you know that?” There’s something intense and serious in his expression.

“Know what exactly?”

“I love you, Grace. It’s impossible not to.”

My body feels too small, too weak and fragile to carry everything his words pour into me. I need his help carrying it all, help he happily gives with a promise in a kiss. Pulling my mouth away from his, I whisper breathlessly, “I love you, Rob.”

Rob presses his forehead against mine, letting the words settle comfortably onto him like a warm blanket. There’s a smile in his eyes, and a bit of mischief. “Marry me.”

The whole world grinds to a halt. “W—what?” I stammer.

Kissing me deeply first, he whispers against my lips, “Marry me.” Then he grazes his mouth down my neck, warm breath raising gooseflesh and pebbling my nipples. “Marry me.” He kisses along my collar to one shoulder, “marry me,” then the other, “marry me.”

I’m stunned speechless and completely breathless when he ducks beneath the covers, sucking one nipple then the other into his mouth. Easing a knee between mine, he supports his weight on his forearms over me. “Marry me.”

He lingers for a moment, teasing each breast with his tongue and the wet heat for him inside me returns, more ferocious than last night.

“Mmmm,” he groans as I wrap my legs around him, aligning our hips, and I can feel his heart pounding under my hands where they rest on his chest. “Marry me.”

“Yes,” I breathe, my toes curling as Rob moves into me, retreats smoothly and comes again, pulling the word from my lips with each pass until waves of pleasure crash over us and recede, leaving us limp and breathless.

*Rob*

I lay, draped like a sheet over Grace, in a relaxed and blissfully happy torpor, my face pressed into the perfumed silk of her hair. I’m slowly going soft inside her, and there’s a part of me that wishes I wasn’t just so I could keep drawing that word, ‘yes’, out of her in throaty moans and breathless whispers. The little aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through her beneath me are enough for my ego.

When her legs loosen and slide off my hips, I roll onto my back, pulling Grace on top of me. “I think your coffee is cold.”

“Small price to pay.” She pushes herself up so she can look into my face, then bursts into laughter at the Cheshire grin that’s plastered there. “Come on, let’s get a shower and some breakfast.”

*Grace*

Rob says nothing but smiles patiently as I gleefully retrieve his body wash from his bathroom before we shower in mine. Once we’re in there though, he’s all hands, and I have to beg him to stop because even the insatiable part of me can’t take any more.

Plus we’re nearly out of hot water.

Downstairs, we cuddle on the sofa until I finish my rewarmed coffee. Rob follows me into the kitchen, and while I start preparing breakfast, is pressed behind me, running his hands over me and kissing the back of my neck.

It’s not long before he has every cell of me clamoring for him again and I turn into his kisses. Our lips clash, opening to each other’s frenzied tongues. Rob cups the sides of my face, demanding my attention while I fumble with the fastening of his jeans. He groans into my mouth when I give up and slide my fingers between the buttons instead.

Releasing my head, he grasps his fly and with a firm, quick jerk, the buttons pop open with a pah-pah-pah-pah, like gunfire. The button and zipper on my jeans follow, his hands sliding them down off my hips then turning me. He wraps one arm around my waist to keep the counter’s edge from hurting me, bracing against the upper cabinets with his other.

I thread my fingers through his, my head tipping back against his shoulder as he surges into me. Our moans come in synchronized pants as we rock together, culminating in a soft wordless harmony as we climax together, shuddering with spasms of pleasure.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Rob gasps at my ear, giving my fingers laced through his a little squeeze.

I giggle. “Good. That works well for me.”

He disentangles us gently but stays close as we each restore our individual clothing, then his stomach gives a loud rumble. “Okay, I guess I better help you get some breakfast fixed, or I won’t have the energy to keep working well for you,” he says suggestively.

*Grace*

Counting the rows, I find where I stopped weeding last and kneel. I run the teeth rake through the soil, loosening and plucking out the weeds with my opposite hand, then freeze. Though the surface soil seemed dry, underneath, the earth’s muddy. I move, checking under the leaves in a few more spots. Same thing.

I glance around at the glossy leaves of my sugar beets. The brownish bullseye looking dots I’d noticed a few weeks earlier and thought were heat burns leap out in my vision. “How can you be burning when you’re this wet?” I ask out loud.

Rising, I trudge back the way I came and over to the control box for the irrigation. Opening it, I kneel and stare at the control. The system is on. Confused, I press the switch, watching as the system on light winks off.

Did I leave it on? I ask myself. Is it broken? Maybe I should get someone out here to take a look at it, I think, standing and continuing to stare at the control panel.

Behind me, I hear a vehicle making its way down the gravel road but I’m surprised to hear it slow to a stop as I close the control panel door. Turning towards the car, my mouth falls open at the man who steps out and comes towards me.

“What are you doing here, Paul?”

“I need to talk to you.”

My face screws up in a wry expression. Shaking my head, I turn, heading back for the field. “No, you don’t.”

Hurrying forward, Paul grabs my arm, roughly turning me to face him. “Yes. I do. And you’re going to listen.”

“Let go!” I demand, prying at his fingers on my upper arm. “You’re hurting me.”

Though he doesn’t release me, Paul’s grip loosens. “I know you think you have everything under control here. I wish you did, but you don’t.”

“What would you know about it? You’re never around. Certainly not around here.”

“I’m around all the time. I drive past your house almost every night.”

Now he had all my attention. “What? Why?”

“For God’s sake, wasn’t it obvious the night you threw me out?”

I peer at him.

No, I think, he’s not the smitten lovesick type. Shaking my arm free, I turn away again. “Whatever. I’m not doing this with you. You’re married to my sister. Lord knows why, but she loves you and your family wants you around.”

“I get it, Grace.” Paul grabs my arm, stopping me again. “I get it. You’re trying to do right by me and I can appreciate that. So let me do right by you.”

Again, I shake my arm free, but don’t turn away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do though, Grace.” Stepping closer, Paul looks down at my shoulder, tawny pink with sunburn. “You’ve had too much sun today,” he says as an aside. The words almost sound tender. “I know you think this handyman you have hanging around is helping you, but he’s not. He can’t.”

Rolling my eyes, I look away, and Paul continues in a rush to keep my attention. “Listen. Maybe he knows about fixing up an old house, an old barn, a few fences. But he doesn’t know anything more about farming than you do.” He pauses then, letting his words sink in.

Hurt and suddenly insecure, my eyes flick up to his.

Paul continues, almost caringly, “He’s using you. And you let him. I know he’s staying in the house for free. He’s driving your truck around. God knows what else you’ve given him for help he can’t deliver.” His eyes rake my body meaningfully.

“You know nothing about it.”

“I do actually,” he insists. “He talks, Grace. And his friends— the ones you were getting chummy with over pizza and beer? —they talk too.”

“No.” Stunned, I give a barely perceptible shake of my head.

“Two of them work for an authorized repair facility for the equipment I sell. I overheard them. They fixed up your tractor so he could get in your pants.”

In abject horror, I turn away. Paul lays his cold hand on my sun-kissed arm. “He’s a con artist, Grace. A partier and a playboy. I’ve seen him myself at the bars around St. Mary’s. He’s screwing around with different girls every weekend.”

My heart’s pounding, a litany of my personal insecurities rattling in my head.

“You don’t know how to do this,” Paul says softly, gesturing around at my fields. “Hell, you don’t even recognize you have leaf spot. Neither does he.” Lifting my chin, he turns my face to his. “Mueller offered to buy the place from you. Fully planted, you should be able to negotiate for more. Take the money and run, Grace. Before you lose what little you have left.”

Stepping back, Paul raises a hand in concession. “I just thought you should know.”

Stock-still, I watch as he walks back to his car, watch him drive away. When he’s out of sight, my eyes skim the sugar beets. Tears blur everything around me but the blotchy brown and black bullseyes dotting row after row of the glossy green leaves.

Paul’s right. I don’t know what I’m doing. Not about any of it, not just the farm. I wanted so much—too much— to stay in my family home. To be good at something. To be good at anything.

Well, you certainly managed that, I think, walking away from the work I’m doing and towards the farmhouse. What you’re good at, is being taken for a ride. Your ex-husband and his family did it. You let Rob do it, and now you’ve given him permission to let his family do it. You’re an idiot, Grace! Juliet even told you to sell and leave and you didn’t listen.

Storming into the house, I kick off my galoshes, yank my gloves and toss my sunhat on the hook in the mudroom. I glare around the kitchen for a moment, then stomp over to the kitchen sink. Pulling the mop bucket from the cabinet beneath the sink, I fill it with hot water and cleaning solution.

Water sloshes over the side as I plunk the bucket on the floor. Wringing a rag from inside it, I kneel, and on hands and knees started washing the floor.

*Rob*

I meant it when I asked Grace to marry me this morning, but I don’t think she understood I was serious. It’s a situation I intend to remedy soon, and it adds to the thrill of having my parents with me again. Finally. Not that it’ll be a surprise—my mom had this figured out before I did.

It’s nearly dark when we arrive home. Parking Grace’s truck next to my car, my eyes flick from window to window. Every one of them is lit. My pulse ticks up a notch immediately. Grace never has a light on in a room unless she’s in it.

Jumping out of the truck, I grab my parents’ bags and lead the way to the front door. It’s still unlocked from when I left, and I set the luggage beside the stairs. That’s when I smell it. “Oh no,” I whisper, my nose wrinkling at the mix of chemical fragrances.

“Is something wrong?” my mother asks.

I flash a smile I can see doesn’t reassure her. “Do me a favor and make yourselves comfortable for a few minutes while I find Grace.”

Circling through the dining room and kitchen, I make my way up the stairs and stop in the doorway of Grace’s room. It’s worse than I thought. There are garbage bags of papers and clothes, crooked stacks of linens and towels, piled clothing and shoes all over the place. It looks like every drawer and the entire closet exploded. The vacuum’s parked in a corner too, its cord looped haphazardly over the handle and the entire room smells of furniture polish and bathroom cleaner.

What in the hell could have happened? I wonder, picking my way through the mess to peek into the bathroom.

Grace is standing barefoot in the tub, her pants rolled up to keep them from getting wet as she scrubs the shining tile with the rough side of a sponge, then rinses it and begins to scrub again.

“Grace?”

At her name, Grace jumps violently. Nearly slipping, she accidentally drops the sponge into the tub. Bending, she snatches it out of the basin, then, wary-eyed, faces me in the doorway.

It’s abundantly clear something is catastrophically wrong. I can hardly believe what I’m reading in her eyes comes from the same woman I’d kissed good-bye so passionately a few hours before. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice thick with concern.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Grace replies too quickly. “It’s just such a mess.”

My brows flick up. That’s the understatement of the year. “It kind of is now,” I agree, not taking my eyes from hers. Long seconds tick by as we stare at each other. “I’ll wait for you to catch up.”

There’s a myriad of emotions that flash over Grace’s face, and that only alarms me more. As the time passes in slow motion, I wait, not daring to move. Then I see tears shimmering against her lashes. Opening my arms, I offer her a hug and pray she’ll take it.

Grace stumbles out of the bathtub, all but falling into my arms.

I hold her close, stroking her hair and rocking her gently as she cries hard wracking sobs that make my heart hurt. As Grace’s emotions ebb, her crying subsides to soft, hiccupping breaths and I draw her with me through the disaster in the bedroom. I take a seat on the edge of her bed and pull her onto my lap. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Tucked against my chest, Grace blurts out her entire encounter with Paul, helpless to stop herself. I’m furious hearing the man’s ruthlessness, how he used Grace’s uncertainties to cloak his lies in plausibility, blinding her to his actions and intention. But that isn’t her fault—it’s his—and I’ll deal with that some other time.

When she grows quiet, I inhale deeply and let my breath out in a long sigh. “Well, he’s right about one thing. I don’t know how to farm. But I know someone who does, Grace, someone well versed, and we’ll figure out something to save your beets.”

I lean her away so I can see her eyes. “Please tell me you don’t believe the rest of that. Tell me you don’t believe the man who tried to buy your affection and then separate you from your sister knows anything about my feelings or my intentions.”

*Grace*

It takes Rob only those words and the pieces fall into place.

I drive past your house almost every night. My too wet fields and my irrigation system on when I knew I’d shut it off.

I’ve seen him myself at the bars around St. Mary’s. He’s screwing around with different girls every weekend. Maybe Paul had seen Rob at the bars. Maybe his friends did talk, though I doubt it. And maybe Rob has messed around with other women. But unlike Paul, Rob had the right—he was single. Even with all the intense moments between us, he’d never been anything more than gentlemanly towards me. Certainly never offered me money for sex.

Mueller offered to buy the place from you…. Take the money and run, Grace. Before you lose what little you have left.

And there it was, distilled to its simplest form: if I’m not going to be compliant like Ella, Paul doesn’t want me around.

I focus on Rob’s face, feeling guilty for the worry there. Reaching up, I smooth the frown lines from his brow, trace his bottom lip with my fingertips. “You’re right. I don’t believe him. I don’t know why I let him get under my skin. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Rob closes his eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. “I thought I’d lost you, just when I’d finally earned you.”

“Earned me?”

Rob’s eyes fly open. “I don’t mean it like that.” He looks away. “I haven’t felt worthy of you. Until last night. When you said I was enough.”

“That’s how I felt about you. All I have is me and a broken-down farm.”

Rob meets my eyes. “We might wind up in my old rat trap by St. Mary’s. But as long as you’ll have me, we’ll be there together.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold him tight.

Rob cuddles me for several minutes, then slowly loosens my arms from his neck. “Right now, I really don’t want to do anything else but stay right here until you know I’m here for you.” His expression turns apologetic. “But my mom and dad are downstairs. They’ve been on a plane for sixteen hours.”

Sliding off his lap, I stand. I pat my cheeks, then my clothes as I look at myself. “Oh, dear God.”

Taking my hands in his, Rob stands, his face lit with an affectionate smile. “They are going to love you as much as I do.”

*Grace*

Rob’s parents are seated at the dining room table, talking softly in a language I don’t understand when Rob leads me downstairs by the hand. As we come into the room, they both get to their feet and face me. Rob eases me toward them with a large warm hand in the small of my back.

“Mom, Dad, this is Grace,” Rob introduces. “Grace, these are my parents, June and Robetu.” The way he pronounces each name, I realize these are the anglicized versions of their Korean given names, Ji-eun and Robeoteu.

“Thank you for allowing us to stay in your home with our son,” Rob’s father says politely with a slight bow. His irises are the same honey-color darkening at the edges to a chestnut brown like Rob’s, and though shot through with a few silvery strands, his hair sticks up in shorter, similar chaotic tuffs. Both he and his wife are no where near as large as Rob is—his father barely stands eye-to-eye with me—but both have the same slim, spare builds and are handsome people.

Before I can reply, Rob’s mother steps forward and wraps me in a light hug. “Thank you for taking care of my son.” When she steps back, her thin eyes are red-rimmed and shimmer with tears, but she’s smiling a familiar smile, softer dimples set into her cheeks, and it’s impossible not to smile back.

“It’s nice to meet you. Is there anything I can get for you?” I ask, mentally trying to calculate what time of day it was for them in Korea to know what they might need.

In sync, Rob and I move towards the kitchen.

“I brought some dinner,” Rob tells me. “It’ll probably need warming up. And maybe some coffee?”

Turning, I stop him with a hand over his heart. Beneath my palm, its steady beat is soothing, reassuring, and my confidence that we’ll weather this new development together blooms. “Why don’t you show them to their room? Show them around? I’ll get the food.”

*Rob*

Though it’s late evening for Grace and me and we’re tired, with the time difference, it’s late morning for my parents. But their flight was long, and though I paid for the best seats I could afford for them, neither slept well and thankfully, they’re tired too.

Once they’ve settled in their room, I find myself standing in the T junction of the hallway, between their room, my room and Grace’s. I haven’t discussed with my parents, either during the drive from the airport or during dinner, the sudden update to my relationship status with Grace.

I worry the inside of my lip debating. My parents raised me with strict rules of propriety—finding me sleeping in Grace’s room without that introduction will be frowned upon at best and result in a lecture at worst, even if I have asked Grace to marry me and she’s agreed. On the other hand, after what she’s been through today, between Paul’s manipulation and the insecure, and frankly dark places Grace herself takes things, I really need to be near her until her confidence in me and our relationship returns.

It’s only one night, my conscience warns. You can explain now to Grace and present the circumstances properly to your parents first thing in the morning.

Grace left the door to her room ajar. The warm light from inside falls in a straight line, like a runway, directly between where I stand and her room. Beyond the door, I can hear her moving about. Following the path laid out for me, I ease the door open wide enough to step inside.

And stop dead in my tracks.

She’s standing naked in front of the mirrored dresser, pulling a set of pink and white pajamas from a drawer. Grace glances my direction and smiles. “Everything alright for your parents?”

I know it’s been less than twenty-four hours since we were in here together in flagrante delicto. And I know during that time, I’ve seen Grace naked a lot of those hours. I know I’ve made certain my hands, mouth and entire body are well-acquainted with the most intimate parts of her. But right now, my eyes track her movements like a predator tracks prey—tucking the pajama bottoms between her thighs, sliding the top over her head—as if it’s the first time I’m seeing her naked.

She shoves her arms through the sleeves and the soft cotton shirt naturally falls into place, hanging just level with the narrow, vertical oval of her belly button. Shaking out the pajama bottoms—short, body hugging shorts—Grace stops before stepping into them and looks up at me again.

“Rob?”

“Uh—,” I breathe stupidly, closing my eyes and swallowing hard. I’ll take the lecture, I reply to my conscience and push the bedroom door completely closed.

A few strides eliminate the distance between us, and I take the shorts from her hands and drop them to the floor. Bending at the knees, I align my hips with hers and lift her by her bare bottom, wrapping her legs around my waist as I turn, making for her bed.

Grace’s arms are tight around my neck, her fingers in my hair, and she’s kissing me deeply, her tongue tickling the sensitive roof of my mouth as its tip darts in then retreats, scraping along my teeth. She helps, wriggling deliciously to pull the shirt over her head as I lay her on the bed and feather kisses along her abdomen to her now exposed breasts. Her cherry nipples are taut with her arousal and her hips are moving against mine already. The smooth, fluid rhythm reminds me of waking her this morning, reminds me I have all night.

*Grace*

There’s a marked change in Rob’s behavior now that his parents are here. I can still see love and desire in his eyes, but he carefully avoids any physical contact between us after I send him to settle his parents into their room and give them a tour of the house.

So I’m expecting that he’ll come tell me he’s sleeping in his room tonight when the door opens to my bedroom. There’s no sense pretending shyness after what’s happened between us the last day, and I pay little attention to him beyond asking if his parents have what they need to be comfortable as I dress for bed.

But when Rob doesn’t answer, I turn, and it registers instantly that he wasn’t expecting to find me like this. Nor was he expecting his body’s response to it. Something primal unfurls in his eyes as he closes the door, comes towards me. There’s an urgency in the way he carries me to the bed, dumps me there and pushes my shirt up, and my desire ramps up to meet it.

I groan in frustration when he stills my hips rolling against his and switches to lazily teasing my nipples with his tongue.

“Shhh,” he whispers. “We have all night. I’ll take you there, all that you want. I promise.”

The feel of his breath almost as much as the words sends a thrill through me. It’s a promise Rob intends to keep.

*Rob*

Grace murmurs in her sleep and I hold her tighter against my chest, tenderly stroke the back of her neck with my thumb. Just that soft sound and the feel of her body against me sends a jolt into my loins, and I’m mildly amused that in one day, I’ve been reduced from a mostly responsible man to a half-crazed hormonal teenager.

Refocusing my thoughts, I consider what needs to be done.

After I made love to her, I got Grace talking again and barely managed to keep my anger from bubbling out. It’s bad enough that Paul trivialized her work here and attempted to crush all of Grace’s dreams. I could almost let it pass, knowing how hard I’d taken her ‘rejection’ when I hadn’t even been rejected.

But when she told me she thinks he’s tampering with her crops to ensure her failure, that’s taking things too far. A part of me really wants to inflict some hurt on this guy as justice for Grace, but I know the best thing to do is to find a way to thwart him and guarantee Grace’s success.

Which is likely harder than it sounds.

In the short term, I think installing a lock latch on the irrigation control box is a decent start—all three of them actually. I’ll also take my dad out to the beet field first thing and ask him what can be done to save her crop, because if anyone will know, it’s him. I think after that, I’ll run it by my friends and see what suggestions they have too.

If she needs money, I have it, and I’m happy to give it to Grace. I’ll also have more to help her if she doesn’t mind having my parents stay at the farm a while. I don’t think they’ll want to stay for long—Mom’s already talking about looking for work as an au pair again, and once their immigration interviews are over and that process is complete, I know Dad will be looking for something too.

I can approach the subject with all of them the same way though: Dad helping with the crops helps pay for their stay, and I’ll give Grace money for everything else.

With a plan in my head, I draw a deep breath to relax and try to sleep, but my groin has other ideas and I like those better. Rolling her to her back, I flutter kisses along Grace’s jaw, caress the length of her and linger, gently stroking the space between her legs. I know the instant she’s fully awake—her fingers tangle in my hair and her mouth meets mine in a deep, passionate kiss—and I know it’s going to be on like this for quite some time.

I can hardly wait.