One Wish (3 page)

Troy felt a tug of some kind inside, somewhere in his chest. He knew it was a warning sign—it was too soon to feel affectionate toward her. In fact, he’d prefer to never feel anything but friendly. But he couldn’t deny it felt good to know that Grace wasn’t involved with anyone. Her claim to never having been very involved was unusual for a woman her age and beauty. And he liked it.

“How are you fixed for real dates?” he asked.

“I have a very demanding schedule. When you own your own business every day off is a day without pay. I don’t have much help at the shop. I’ve had a couple of part-timers over the past couple of years, but right now I have no one—the last one had to quit. She wasn’t that much help anyway, but at least she kept the shop open while I delivered flowers. I have to try to figure that out. Like I said, I need a more balanced life.”

“Have you thought about a high school or college student? Or maybe two who could job share, putting together two part-time schedules that equal one full-time employee? There are so many at the high school who don’t want to go to college or who do but have trouble affording tuition.”

“Good idea, but when I advertise for help, hardly anyone answers.”

“You need help advertising in the right place. There’s a work-study program at school. If you can train your student-employee in a trade, they’ll get a credit toward graduation and get a morning or afternoon off to work. Didn’t Iris ever suggest this?”

Grace looked a little excited. “No! Should I ask her to help me with this?”

“Yes,” he said. “Not tonight. Tonight we drink beer and eat something. What’ve you got? I could run out for something...”

“How hungry are you? Because I make some amazing nachos. And since I have some black olives, taco meat left over from taco salad and sour cream...”

“Oh,
yeah
,” he said.

“Didn’t you have any dinner?”

“I had a couple of Cooper’s mini pizzas...”

“And you say it’s the little brother who eats on the hour?” She went to her tiny kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to run down the street for something? I hate to ask you to feed me,” he said.

“Don’t go,” she said. “It’s not much trouble and it sounds good.”

She bent over to dig around in her little refrigerator and Troy felt a fever coming on. Those yoga pants had a real nice fit. He had to look away, take a breath. Sometimes, he reminded himself, you don’t notice what’s right in front of you. He’d spent all that time thinking Iris was right for him. Even though she made it clear it was a no-go, he never bothered to get to know any other women and here was Grace, right under his nose. Making him hot.

She was complicated, he knew that. She said her life was boring, not much to tell, solitary...and he knew that was just a cover. And he didn’t mind at all.

“Then let me help,” he said, joining her.

They put together a fabulous plate of nachos, ran out of salsa very quickly since that little fridge couldn’t hold much and cupboard space was at a premium. They spent the next hour talking about the town, the rivers Troy liked to run in the summer, the kids he taught. Every time he asked Grace a question about herself she gave him a brief answer and steered the conversation back to him.

“You know there are dorm rooms bigger than this loft,” he said to her. “You live like a college student.”

“I know. I’m keeping my life simple and my expenses down until the shop does better, and it’s doing better all the time. There aren’t that many weddings in Thunder Point, but I get a lot of weddings out of town. They’re killers but they pay like mad. Where do you live?”

“In a small old apartment on the edge of town that’s decorated with castoffs from my folks. You’re saving for the flower shop and I’m saving for travel.” He noticed her eyes widened and wondered where it came from. Envy? Longing? Surprise? Something else? He told her about the dive trips in summer, ski trips in winter, hunting trips with old Marine Corps buddies here and there.

“Marines?” she asked.

“I did a year of community college, enlisted, went to Iraq and got out. That’s how I finished college—GI Bill. I was a lowly jarhead but I made some excellent friends. There’s good hunting in the mountains not far from here. I’ll take you sometime if you like.”

“Oh, I’ve never touched a gun,” she said. “I couldn’t hunt.”

“Then I’ll take you for the scenery.”

Just then, as they were talking about guns, something that sounded like gunshots punctuated the night. Almost as if choreographed, they both turned to open the shutters behind the couch. In the sky above the bay, fireworks blasted the dark sky, exploding into bright fireballs and falling in sparkling streamers.

“Fireworks,” she said in a breath.

“The wind has been too high in the couple of years I’ve been here,” Troy said. “I think Cliff hires someone to do it. Not bad, for a dumpy little town.”

“This place surprises me all the time.”

Troy turned to her and caught her chin in his finger and thumb. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Me, too.”

“Listen, Troy,” she said, and there was no mistaking nervousness in her voice. “I... There are things...”

He stopped her by kissing her gently. He slid his hand around her head to the nape of her neck under her ponytail. His kiss was soft, brief and gentle. Instinct told him he was dealing with a major unknown emotional situation and should go slowly, carefully. He moved over her lips very tenderly.

“What things?” he asked.

She took a breath. “I didn’t exactly tell the whole story about my family, about growing up...”

“I know,” he said.

“How? Do you know things about me? Is there something...”

“Shh,” he said. “I’m a high school teacher. I can smell excuses and evasion a mile away. It’s an acquired skill. So there’s more to you? That’s okay, Gracie. Don’t panic. You’ll tell me when you feel safe.”

“Okay?” she said, more of a question than a reply.

He chuckled. “Okay. We’re just friends. And we’re getting to know each other. Take it easy.”

Then he leaned in again, taking another taste of her lips as the popping, exploding sound of fireworks provided the background music. Again he was gentle and sweet because the last thing he wanted was to scare her off.

“I’m not experienced,” she whispered when their lips parted.

“Well, except for the navy SEAL, knight and vampire?” he asked with a laugh in his voice.

She smiled against his lips. “Yes, except for them there aren’t many experiences. I made out with a guy named Johnny when I was fifteen. For about ten hours I think. He was fantastic and turned out to be gay. Such has been my luck.”

He gave her a little kiss. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “It’s all good.”

“Should we be down on the dock, watching the fireworks?” she asked.

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “We should be right here.” Then his arms tightened around her and he covered her mouth again with kisses that had become hot, demanding and promising.

* * *

Troy left at around one in the morning but Grace stayed on the couch. She grabbed a pillow and blanket and decided to spend the night right there, where it all happened, where the kissing and snuggling and whispering took place. She was still licking her lips, touching them with her fingertips, contemplating his skill, his taste. The last time she’d been kissed was in Portland by a nephew of Ross and Mamie’s. That was over two years ago. His name was Gary, last name long forgotten. He’d attached himself to her mouth like a plunger and attempted a tonsillectomy with his tongue. He’d gotten away with that three times before she finally told him to stop.

There were some things for which she had very little training and one of them was romantic relationships. She hadn’t been in a position to have boyfriends. And if she did have a crush, which happened rarely, her flirting felt conspicuous and clumsy. She’d had a crush on Troy, as it happened, but because she was Iris’s friend and Troy had been trailing Iris for a year, she never let on. Growing up, she trained mostly alone, the only exception being her father’s younger students—almost exclusively girls. There were men on the skating competition circuit and other athletes competing in some of the national and world competitions. Some of the figure skaters she competed against were so much more womanly—tall, with breasts, worldly, sexy, flirtatious. And they hated her. They had plenty of reasons—she was raised with money while many of them had parents who worked several jobs to pay for their training, not that that had anything much to do with one’s ability to perform a perfect double axel. She often competed against older skaters because her talent meant she was a force to be reckoned with. But the other girls tended to act as if she could buy the medals.

Her biggest rival was a girl her age named Fiona Temple. Fiona beat her once and only once, but that was all it took for Fiona to believe the only thing that stood in the way of her stardom was Izzy Banks. Fiona hated her and spread rumors about her whenever she could. Fiona’s parents leaked stories to the media. Grace would never forget the time, age twelve, when Fiona told other skaters Grace was a rich bitch and how everything was easier for her. Grace had cried and told Winnie all about it. “Never let them see you cry!” Winnie had said. “Never! Lift your chin and beat her instead! Beat the tights off her!”

That’s what she wanted to do, but it was so hard not to feel hurt. So she lifted her nose in the air, ignored them, and they started calling her a stuck-up snot who had everything handed to her.

And then she did something that caused a world of trouble. Winnie had warned her to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t stay silent. She accused a famous skating coach of sexual misconduct with one of his students, a minor. She quickly learned speaking out gets you treated like a leper, even if it’s true. True or not, a smarter person would have proof to offer before opening her stupid mouth. When she asked her coach’s advice Mikhail had been blunt. “He is piece of shit but it will get you nothing to say so.”

That world-famous coach was not prosecuted and ultimately sued Izzy and Winnie. They settled, giving him money. A year after Grace retired from competitive skating the coach was arrested and eventually convicted of sexual misconduct with minors.

She’d been right. Vindicated. For what good it did her.

She hadn’t been completely without friends growing up, but her few relationships had been superficial and strained. When the girls doubled up in hotel rooms to save money, Winnie rented spacious quarters for the two of them and Mikhail, removing Grace yet again from her contemporaries. The only skaters she didn’t actually fear were on the men’s team. And most of them
truly
wanted to be nothing more than friends.

She couldn’t look to her parents as models for a healthy, strong love match. Her mother had married her father because she needed a keeper. Her father had married her mother as he had married a young skater before her, one who bore him a child twenty years before Grace came along. As much as she had always adored her father, she understood—he had a
type
. Young, vulnerable, needy, willing to do whatever he demanded because they were convinced he’d help them win.

She could, however, look to her parents to see what she
didn’t
want in a relationship.

Her other advisors on romance were in the bookcase—the romances and some classic chick flicks. She and Iris had debated them often enough. Some were pure fantasy, some unreasonably coincidental, but some of her favorite contemporary romances revolved around very strong women and men with integrity. And then of course she studied their fictional presumptions, mistakes, missteps, blunders, and from them she learned. Or at least hoped she had.

She had been unprepared for Troy. She had wished for someone like Troy for a long time but assumed that kind of man would never happen into her life.

Troy had kissed with such amazing skill and tenderness. And there was passion—hot, deep, panting, groaning passion. Grace wanted to fall in love with him, something she attributed to her lack of experience. But she thought about what he’d said to her. “You aren’t with anyone, I’m not with anyone and it seems like we might as well enjoy the moment. Right?”

So. He was just lonely and had finally accepted that Iris had moved on. She didn’t care. She loved his mouth, his arms, his hands. She would try very hard not to fall in love with him.

Grace snuggled down into her blanket on the couch and thought it didn’t matter at all. She never imagined she’d have this with anyone and certainly not the very guy she lusted after. They had kissed for an hour. He didn’t rush her, didn’t push her, didn’t treat her like someone he was using to pass the time and it was
delicious
!
She decided to close her eyes and dream about him, dream about them taking it to the next level. She was twenty-eight; she so wanted to know what that was like.

Instead she dreamed of Mikhail, the little Russian in his sixties with a cane he pounded for emphasis, shouting in half Russian and half English. It was so unfair, she thought, slowly rousing to the sound of knocking that was not Mikhail’s cane.

She was suddenly afraid and her heart started racing. Who could be pounding after one in the morning? Then she saw that it was starting to grow light and at just that moment she heard Troy’s voice. “Gracie? Gracie? It’s me,” he called softly.

She opened the door for him. He was holding a bag. “What in the world are you doing here at the crack of dawn?”

He looked at his watch. “It’s nine, Grace.”

“Nine? It looks like the sun isn’t even awake!”

“It’s a gloomy day. I brought breakfast and then I’m going to take you storm watching.”

“Why?” she said, frowning.

“Because the swells are huge and I think you need me to show you how to have fun.”

“I beg your pardon, I know how to have fun.”

“Working all the time, then working out for diversion. Nah, you definitely need a coach. We’ll start small—just a little sightseeing. There are big swells, the waves will be awesome.”