And they said you couldn’t go home again.
Johnny stood rooted in the past, recalling the way Grace had laughed at him that day, her long hair spilling past the shoulders of the faded shirt she wore. In some ways, she’d changed. Her hair now swung across her shoulders, which were covered in the soft white cotton of a formfitting T-shirt beneath the sassy little dress she wore. She looked sexy as hell.
But in another way, she was still the same Grace, daring to laugh at him with those green eyes.
And that was sexy, too.
“You clean this up, Johnny Tremont. I’ve got a customer. And don’t forget, I’ve got mirrors.” Henry turned toward the front of the store, muttering about dented cans and delinquents.
Grace grinned openly and Johnny shot her a menacing look. She’d watched him sweep up flour years ago, grinning at him over the rim of a cola bottle. “Are you going to help stack these cans, or just stand and watch?”
Gracie squirmed, wanting down. “Can I help?”
Johnny set little Gracie on her feet. “You bet. We’ll rebuild the pyramid and you can put on the top can. Do you think we should let Grace help?”
Gracie gave a quick nod.
“You’re in,” Johnny said, smirking at Grace.
She was a good sport—too much so, Johnny decided. Grace crouched in her flirty dress, giving him flashes of smooth slim thigh as they worked toward the center of the pile from opposite directions. Little Gracie had a great time, while Johnny suffered.
Until the moment he saw Grace again, Johnny had only thought of marriage to her in terms of keeping guardianship of Gracie. Now he found himself rethinking the idea on a more primal level.
There were a lot of cans, and he gave Gracie a break, sending her to put the cupcakes on Henry’s counter. He and Grace had inched almost nose to nose, and as their knees brushed, she wobbled. He reached out and curled his hand about her arm, and the softness of her skin stilled him.
He knew Grace felt his tension when she paused. He smoothed his thumb across her skin and got a jolt out of her direct gaze.
He wondered what she’d do if he kissed her.
Never one to wonder for. long, Johnny leaned closer. Grace smelled heavenly. Sweet and womanly, a potent combination. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, focused on his mouth as he eased it toward her pink parted lips—
“Henry’s got mirrors,” she whispered, not quite breaking the spell. They hovered inches apart, Johnny not giving a damn about mirrors, yet aware it probably mattered to Grace, who likely remembered what a kiss with Johnny Tremont used to mean to a girl’s reputation in Ashville—never mind if a kiss had been all that had happened.
Gracie came running back then and Johnny didn’t miss the quick way Grace backed off. Even faster than he. He could feel her wary gaze upon him, though, likely seeing him in a new light. She’d probably always thought of him as a pesky older brother, in the same way he’d thought of her as a sister. So all these sexual vibes bouncing between them had to be as much a shock to her as they were to him.
Johnny stacked the remaining cans, lifting Gracie to place the last one on top as promised. Their task accomplished, the three of them headed for the front of the store. Johnny was aware that Grace kept her distance.
Under Henry’s watchful eye, Johnny paid for his purchases. He hoisted the sack in his arms and led the way to the door.
“Come get a candy, little girl,” Henry called to Gracie, amazing Johnny. Even more amazing, Gracie ran back and Henry handed a lollipop down to her.
“Thank you,” Gracie said in a near whisper.
Johnny couldn’t have been more surprised if Gracie had shouted. Not that Gracie was ill-mannered; she was usually just too shy to. talk, without Johnny by her side to prompt the conversation. But then, Gracie thought Henry was a dwarf.
Johnny’s imagination didn’t stretch quite that far.
After a moment Gracie hurried over, beaming.
“I said I was sorry I spilled the cans. And he said I’m a good girl.”
“You are a good girl,” Johnny said proudly, gratified to think that a month spent with him hadn’t changed that fact, the way his parents thought it would.
Then he noticed Grace staring at him, probably contemplating the fact that he’d taken the rap for Gracie. After all, she “knew him when.” But Grace’s eyes were soft and warm and the emotion in them somehow embarrassed him. Out of earshot of Gracie he muttered, “Old grouch never gave me candy.”
“He always gave licorice to me and Janelle,” Grace recalled, her wistful tone telling Johnny she was missing Janelle the same as he. The sweet sharp coil of desire for her unraveled inside him, leaving a bittersweet compassion. He thought Grace’s pain must be as great as his own, she and Janelle had been so close.
They left the store, following Gracie down the sidewalk. “Janelle married a great guy,” Johnny said abruptly. “She was happy. But she always regretted that his work took her away from here, away from you.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Grace smiled up at him and he felt his heart stutter. “You can be pretty nice when you want to, Johnny Tremont.”
Johnny was disconcerted to realize just how nice he wanted to be.
The three of them came to a halt by his Harley. Gracie grabbed her pink-striped helmet and Johnny winked down at her. “Gracie likes the hog, don’t you, Gracie?”
Gracie gazed adoringly at Johnny. “I like the hog.”
Grace didn’t appear to share that sentiment. “Gracie shouldn’t ride that thing down the highway. We can take my car to the farm and you can leave the bike here.”
“Leave the Harley?” Was she crazy? If she’d told him to leave little Gracie, Johnny wouldn’t have been more appalled. “It might get stolen.”
“The police station is right over there.” She pointed up the block, across the street. “Who in Ashville is going to steal it anyway? Mrs. Cromwell?”
Johnny remembered Mrs. Cromwell, the florist. The thought of her plump body, clad in a floral dress and seated on his bike, made him wince.
“If you’re really worried, you could ask Eddie from the gas station to keep an eye on it.”
Johnny shuddered. Eddie of the hit-and-miss repairs was the last person he wanted around his bike.
“Remember the time you hauled the Harley in Dad’s truck?” Grace smiled wistfully. “I wish that old Ford still ran.”
Johnny wished it did, too. He wished it was parked here right now, with the Harley loaded in back because Grace was right. He didn’t want to take Gracie out on the two-lane highway on the bike. He could follow Grace along on the Harley, but he was certain little Gracie wouldn’t go in the car without him.
“I’ll lock up the bike and leave it.” Johnny swore he felt physical pain as he did just that. He grabbed his helmet and the three of them climbed into Grace’s car. They buckled Gracie in the back with her lollipop.
Johnny couldn’t help but approve of Grace’s little blue coupe. Like her salon, it was neat and clean. There were magnets shaped like hair bows holding small notes on the dash. One reminded her to pick up clothes from the cleaners. Another read, “C.S.—Saturday.”
He frowned at the second note. A date? Grace’s bare ring finger had ruled out a fiancé, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t