“Yep. My family originally came from Georgia. We can trace our line through the Civil War and back to England in the sixteen-hundreds.”
“Is that why you’re so interested in the Tudors?”
“I guess so. That would make sense. I’ve always been fascinated by Henry VIII and his ridiculous libido.”
He burst out laughing, almost choking on his wine at her statement. It took him a few minutes to quiet his laughter and she used the opportunity to throw another log on the fire. As she stood, she stretched her arms and back, conscious of Drew’s eyes on her. The wind was blowing fiercely and every now and then a tree limb clattered onto the small patio outside.
“I wonder when this storm will let up,” she murmured conversationally as she walked to the window and peered outside.
“It can’t go on much longer. I’m sure it’ll clear by morning.”
Drew rose to meet her at the window. He put his hand on her shoulder and stroked his fingers down her arm lightly, causing goose bumps to rise along the skin. She turned to face him, swaying slightly from fatigue mixed with a little too much wine.
“Thank you for coming tonight. I’m so sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”
“Believe me, I’m the better for it. Thank you for leaving your things at my shop.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “God, you smell so good.”
“Still Valerie’s shampoo,” she whispered.
“Keep it.”
He wrapped his arms around her then, holding her close and tilting his face down to meet hers. Their lips connected in the semi-darkness and a blossom of happiness opened in her that she hadn’t felt in the year since John died. Drew ended the kiss too soon for her liking.
She looked up at him. “You didn’t tell me anything about you.”
“Mmm, not much to tell, really. I like football, but I’m terrible at it. I play goalie for a neighborhood team.”
“Football? Oh, you mean soccer?”
He grinned. “Right, the rest of the world calls it by the wrong name. I’d forgotten. Thanks for the reminder.” His grin widened and his eyes twinkled. “I’ve played piano since I was a child. I’m actually pretty boring, come to think of it.”
“I doubt that. So, not an adventurer then?”
“Not really, no. I like trying new things as much as the next bloke, but I also just enjoy being here.”
“That’s . . . refreshing.”
She yawned, causing him to chuckle.
“All right, you’re knackered. I’d better be off home. I will see you again, Miss McConnell,” he said as he navigated the small, dark living room.
“You will, Mr. Tensley. Are you sure you’ll be safe getting home? It’s so windy.”
“I’m always all right. Don’t worry about me.” He grabbed a flashlight out of his box of supplies and put on his coat and shoes. “Until we meet again.”
“Goodnight, Drew,” Grace whispered as she walked him to the front door and stood up on her toes to place a light kiss against his lips. “Sleep well.”
“Goodnight.”
God, she’s perfect. Drew walked through the last remnants of the stormy night, which quickly rocketed to the top of his best nights ever list.
The rain was soaking him, but he didn’t care one iota. All he could think about was Grace. He could still smell her hair, the scent of oranges lingered in his nostrils. He needed more of her. Every encounter brought on a fresh wave of desire, stronger than the last. She seemed so mysterious; skittish and fragile, yet completely self-sufficient. He needed to find a way to see her again, and soon. The storm refused to putter out completely and he fell asleep to the sound of the wind whipping at the trees outside his window.
The next morning he woke early. The light was just peeking over the hills and he jumped out of bed planning an early run. He told himself it wasn’t in hopes of bumping into her again. He was lying. He laced up his running shoes and took a moment to brush his teeth and check his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot from
“Is that why you’re so interested in the Tudors?”
“I guess so. That would make sense. I’ve always been fascinated by Henry VIII and his ridiculous libido.”
He burst out laughing, almost choking on his wine at her statement. It took him a few minutes to quiet his laughter and she used the opportunity to throw another log on the fire. As she stood, she stretched her arms and back, conscious of Drew’s eyes on her. The wind was blowing fiercely and every now and then a tree limb clattered onto the small patio outside.
“I wonder when this storm will let up,” she murmured conversationally as she walked to the window and peered outside.
“It can’t go on much longer. I’m sure it’ll clear by morning.”
Drew rose to meet her at the window. He put his hand on her shoulder and stroked his fingers down her arm lightly, causing goose bumps to rise along the skin. She turned to face him, swaying slightly from fatigue mixed with a little too much wine.
“Thank you for coming tonight. I’m so sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”
“Believe me, I’m the better for it. Thank you for leaving your things at my shop.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “God, you smell so good.”
“Still Valerie’s shampoo,” she whispered.
“Keep it.”
He wrapped his arms around her then, holding her close and tilting his face down to meet hers. Their lips connected in the semi-darkness and a blossom of happiness opened in her that she hadn’t felt in the year since John died. Drew ended the kiss too soon for her liking.
She looked up at him. “You didn’t tell me anything about you.”
“Mmm, not much to tell, really. I like football, but I’m terrible at it. I play goalie for a neighborhood team.”
“Football? Oh, you mean soccer?”
He grinned. “Right, the rest of the world calls it by the wrong name. I’d forgotten. Thanks for the reminder.” His grin widened and his eyes twinkled. “I’ve played piano since I was a child. I’m actually pretty boring, come to think of it.”
“I doubt that. So, not an adventurer then?”
“Not really, no. I like trying new things as much as the next bloke, but I also just enjoy being here.”
“That’s . . . refreshing.”
She yawned, causing him to chuckle.
“All right, you’re knackered. I’d better be off home. I will see you again, Miss McConnell,” he said as he navigated the small, dark living room.
“You will, Mr. Tensley. Are you sure you’ll be safe getting home? It’s so windy.”
“I’m always all right. Don’t worry about me.” He grabbed a flashlight out of his box of supplies and put on his coat and shoes. “Until we meet again.”
“Goodnight, Drew,” Grace whispered as she walked him to the front door and stood up on her toes to place a light kiss against his lips. “Sleep well.”
“Goodnight.”
God, she’s perfect. Drew walked through the last remnants of the stormy night, which quickly rocketed to the top of his best nights ever list.
The rain was soaking him, but he didn’t care one iota. All he could think about was Grace. He could still smell her hair, the scent of oranges lingered in his nostrils. He needed more of her. Every encounter brought on a fresh wave of desire, stronger than the last. She seemed so mysterious; skittish and fragile, yet completely self-sufficient. He needed to find a way to see her again, and soon. The storm refused to putter out completely and he fell asleep to the sound of the wind whipping at the trees outside his window.
The next morning he woke early. The light was just peeking over the hills and he jumped out of bed planning an early run. He told himself it wasn’t in hopes of bumping into her again. He was lying. He laced up his running shoes and took a moment to brush his teeth and check his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot from
Similar Books
