Always on My Mind (The Sullivans #8)

Chapter Fourteen

"Do you have anything nice to wear?"

Lori was in the barn the next day getting another bag of feed for the chickens when Grayson walked in and asked her the totally random question. She hadn't been able to forget the unexpectedly deep look of longing in his eyes as he'd come into the living room the previous evening to apologize. But neither could she forget the way they'd blown up at each other in the barn. So, instead of telling him that, yes, she had several really pretty dresses in her suitcase, she gestured at her mud-spattered jeans and T-shirt.

"What could possibly be nicer than this?"

That muscle in his jaw started moving. He needed to stop clenching it so hard or he was going to end up with terrible headaches. Not that she was going to make the mistake of telling him that. No, from here on out she'd keep her mouth shut and her opinions out of his life. That was what they both wanted, after all.

And yet, even though she knew she could have left his farm at any moment, somehow that hadn't been an option. Sweetpea still needed her, of course, but on top of that, Lori still didn't have anything to go back to...and she couldn't bear to face her family and friends like this.

They all thought she was invincible.

It was one thing for Grayson to be disappointed in her. It was another entirely for the people who loved her to feel that way.

Grayson swept his dark gaze over her again before saying, "If you show up with me at the barn dance looking like that, people are going to talk."

The word dance grabbed her gut and twisted it. Hard enough that she lost her breath and her balance for a minute, and had to reach out to grab a beam to steady herself.

"Why would you want me to go anywhere with you? I thought we agreed to keep to ourselves from here on out."

He shrugged. "I've been alone on this farm long enough that people are starting to think I'm fair game. If you're there, they'll stop thinking that."

"People? Fair game?" She finally realized what he was talking about. "You mean women?"

"Yes." He gritted out the word between teeth that were clenched even tighter than she'd previously thought.

"So if you go to this barn - " She didn't even want to say the word. " - thing without me, you'll be subjected to pretty little ladies throwing themselves at you left and right?"

"Be ready at six," he said without bothering to answer her snarky question.

He was already walking away when she said, "Why should I?"

She wasn't sure she liked the look in his eyes when he turned to face her. "I've let you hide out here on my farm all week, that's why."

She could no longer argue with him about the hiding out part, but she could take issue with the fact that he was acting like she'd been a freeloader. And she was sick to death of men who thought they could take her accomplishments down a peg. "I've been working hard, not just lying on the grass in a bikini asking you to crank up the blender for my next drink refill." She could only imagine the fit Grayson would have pitched if she'd done that. "I know I screwed up some things at first, but I've been doing a great job since then."

He moved closer, close enough that her heartbeat kicked into overdrive. "If you're that afraid to go to the dance, just tell me and I'll let you off the hook."

The challenge in his words reverberated through every last cell in her body despite how softly he'd uttered them. And this time she was the one gritting her teeth so hard she nearly cracked her molars.

"I'll see you at six."

Fury had Lori weeding like a fiend for the rest of the afternoon, but she didn't get any satisfaction out of the ground she covered. Not when she was too busy planning how to make Grayson regret he'd ever made that challenge to her.

Oh, she'd dance all right. With every man in town but him. And she'd make sure that he was the perfect target for every single woman within a hundred miles of Pescadero.

At five o'clock she locked herself in the bathroom with her war chest. For nearly her whole life, she'd depended on the contents of this bag - makeup, lotions, nail polish, blow dryer, curling iron - in the same way that she'd needed food and sleep. But for one whole week she hadn't so much as unzipped the bag. It was at once comforting and familiar...and strange. She loved the way she felt when she looked good, yet there had been surprising freedom in not caring one way or the other.

She took out everything and laid it along the small counter. She grinned at the way her girly things immediately took over every possible surface in his bathroom, and how irritated Grayson would be if she left it all for him after she was gone.

With that happily evil thought cheering her, she stripped off her grimy clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot spray felt great on her overworked muscles, the water turning from brown to clear as she soaped up and washed the dirt from her skin, from her hair, from beneath her fingernails. She took extra care to shave her legs from ankle to hip, slicking lotion over her entire body before she got out of the shower.

She had no intention of letting any man benefit from the softness of her skin tonight, but Grayson didn't need to know that.

It was as natural as breathing for her to do her hair and makeup and to paint her nails. Maybe, she found herself thinking, that was what she'd do now that her dancing career was over. She could open up a small salon somewhere far away from here and help other women feel better about themselves. It wasn't what she had dreamed of doing her whole life, but it would be better than nothing.

When she was finished primping, she wrapped herself in a towel and left the bathroom. Grayson wasn't even in the house, as far as she could tell. It figured that he wanted her to put all sorts of effort into looking good, but he'd probably just put on a new pair of jeans and clean pair of boots and be ready inside of thirty seconds.

She'd left her luggage open on her bed and now she pulled out a red dress made up entirely of satin and sequins. The straps were thin and it was almost completely backless, ending just above the curve of her hips. She'd danced in outfits with far less material than this dress, but she could easily guess that it would be the most inappropriate outfit ever for a barn dance.

Yes, she decided as she slipped it on, that was what made it so perfect. As were the four-inch spike heels she slipped on next. Where most women could barely have walked in them, Lori could dance all night without any problems at all.

And she would, damn it, just to spite Grayson.

* * *

Grayson looked at his watch: 6:15 p.m. Lori was late, which came as no surprise given that she'd been locked in her bedroom for over an hour now.

Just the idea of the barn dance had him feeling out of sorts, but he knew he had to do it for her. Because he owed Lori something more than an apology for the way he'd behaved. For the things he'd said.

Only, when she finally stepped out of the bedroom, all thoughts of apologies scattered.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

He hadn't seen a dress like that in years - blood-red satin and sequins that perfectly showcased the curves he hadn't been able to get out of his head. The skirt was higher in the front than it was in the back and swished around her ridiculously gorgeous legs as she moved toward him in heels so high she actually came up past his chin now.

Holy hell, his heart was either going to explode from racing so fast, or just stop beating altogether, that was how badly he wanted to rip the dress from her, to drag her back into the bedroom and make love to her until both of them forgot that it was a mistake.

Acting as if he wasn't clearly about to burst a blood vessel just from being near her, she gave him a pretty little smile and twirled. "Just a little something I had in my bag." Her smile still glittered, even brighter than the sequins, despite never quite reaching her eyes. "I take it you don't like it."

Fuck. Why did he keep hurting her? It wasn't Lori's fault that his wife had died.

And it wasn't Lori's fault that he couldn't stop wanting the beautiful, sassy farmhand he'd never meant to hire.

He knew he needed to apologize again and was just about to say the words, but as she went toward the front door and he finally saw the back of her dress - or, rather, the back of the dress that should have been there, instead of the most gorgeous, creamy skin he'd ever seen - he couldn't think straight, couldn't stop himself from grabbing her arm.

"You are not wearing that dress tonight."

Her eyes lit with fury as she whirled around to face him. "Watch me."

She tried to yank her arm from his grip, but being this close to her made his head spin too fast for him to let her go...or to stop himself from dragging her against him and taking her mouth with his.

Grayson had wanted to kiss her at least a thousand times since the afternoon in the log cabin, when she'd been pure heat and sensual woman in his arms. He hadn't been able to recover from that, not even by reminding himself of all the reasons he needed to stay away from her.

He needed this kiss so badly that he barely registered how stiff she was in his arms, until she wasn't anymore and the hands that had been pushing him away were trying to pull him in closer instead.

God, she was soft.

And so damned sweet he could barely believe it.

Soon he had her backed up against the door. In the log cabin, he'd been desperate to touch her, to find out if she felt as good against him as she looked. But now that he knew exactly what waited for him beneath the thin fabric of her dress - skin so warm and pretty that he'd be stunned every time his mouth or hands made contact with it - it only made him crazier for her. And then there were the little sounds she'd make as he rained kisses over her, little gasps, soft moans, that would take hold of his sanity and yank it completely away.

Only this time, instead of him being the one to put the brakes on when he was on the verge of heading for the point of no return, Lori was the one dragging her mouth from his.

"How can you kiss me like this," she asked him in a voice that shook slightly, "when you won't even talk to me about what happened to you?"

She didn't say "Stop." She didn't tell him, "We shouldn't do this." Just, "You won't even talk to me about what happened to you."

But it was enough. Because she was right - he had no business kissing her like that, or even thinking of going further, when he could still barely think about his past, let alone share the details of it with someone else. With her.

She was still trying to catch her breath, her br**sts rising up in the slinky dress as she gasped for air. "I wasn't trying to make you hurt worse by asking you questions about your past, Grayson. That's the last thing I would ever want to do and I'm so sorry if anything I said in the stables hurt you. I swear I was only trying to help."

God, he'd nearly yanked her dress up to her waist and taken her against the front door, and she was the one apologizing.

"I know," he said. And he did. Because for all of Lori's faults - and he felt as if he'd gotten to discover each and every one of them over the past week - she was a good person. Maybe if they'd met in a different time, years ago, when he was still in the city...

No. He couldn't go there, couldn't wish that things had been different. Because if he were going to turn back time, wasn't there only one thing he would ever be allowed to wish for? His wife, alive and healthy. And if Leslie were still alive, then Lori Sullivan would have no part of his life at all.

His gut twisted twice as hard at that thought.

Grayson already knew that there was no way to win, that the grip his past had on him was too strong ever to get away from. Because while he simply couldn't imagine his world anymore without Lori in it, he also couldn't move beyond the loss he'd suffered before her.

"I'm still so damned sorry for grabbing you the way I did in the stables, and I never should have pushed you up against the door just now." It took every ounce of self-control he had left to step away from her. "I understand if you don't want to go to the barn dance with me now, Lori."

He felt awkward and too formal, as though he couldn't get anything right with her. He didn't deserve to have her on his arm, didn't deserve any more of her smiles, or the sound of her laughter as it floated through the air.

Lori stared at him as if she'd never seen him before. "Are you actually asking me what I want to do?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Lori. You know that."

Her smile came so suddenly he actually felt the wind knocked out of him at the beautiful force of it. "Of course I know that, but it's so fun to see if I can make you lose it," she teased, and amazingly, his gut untwisted a little. "Plus, it keeps Sweetpea entertained when you stomp around and smoke starts coming out of your ears - doesn't it, baby?" she said to the cat, who was watching the two of them from the bed of pillows and blankets Lori had made for her on the floor by a heating vent.

"Don't let her pull you into this discussion, Mo," he warned the cat.

Lori laughed out aloud, a sweet waterfall of joy that untwisted his gut even further. "Aha! You finally talked to her like she's a person." She clapped her hands. "Just because of that, I'll go with you to the barn thing."

She wasn't pushing him anymore on his wife's crash, so he wouldn't push her on the fact that she couldn't even say the word dance.

But he wanted to. And that was what worried him most - even more than the desire over which he had no control whatsoever. It was why he was taking her to the barn dance, after all - because he'd heard her on the phone with her sister and knew how badly she missed dancing, how important it really was to her.

For three years he'd been so careful to keep himself from getting close to anyone, but Lori had barged into his life and refused to take no for an answer when he'd told her he didn't have time to train a farmhand who had no experience and was worse than useless.

Somehow she'd gotten under his skin.

And he didn't know how to get her out again.

He was frowning when the soft, oh-so-sweet touch of her hand on his jaw finally made him stop and look down at her beautiful face again. "I've thought a lot about what you said to me in the stables," she said in a soft voice. "It turns out you were right about it being easier for me to focus on helping you rather than looking at my own life."

"Don't." He covered her hand with his. "Please don't let me off the hook like that. I f**ked up, Lori. And you shouldn't forgive me."

The last thing he expected her to do was smile up at him. "You just said it yourself - you can't keep me from doing whatever I want." She lightly stroked his cheek. "And I want to forgive you. But only for what happened in the stables. Because what just happened here against the door..." Her eyes flashed with heat. "Well, I can't think of any part of your kisses that you have to be sorry about."

With that, she turned and walked out the door toward his truck. Still reeling from everything that had just been said between them, it was a hell of a job for Grayson to try to keep his eyes from wandering to her h*ps as he followed her, especially when he had a bad feeling that she wasn't wearing anything at all beneath the form-fitting dress.

Sweet Lord, what he'd give to touch her na**d skin again, to press not only his hands, but also his mouth, to her. To all of her.

Before she could reach for the door handle of his truck, he opened it for her, then offered a hand to help her up. She looked surprised, but she placed her hand in his.

He forgot to let go as he looked down at her fingernails. "You've put on nail polish." And she smelled like vanilla and spice, so sweet and sultry that he was barely able to tamp down the overpowering urge to bury his face in the curve of her neck and breathe her in.

"Mascara, too," she said as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I didn't want people to think you couldn't do any better than a girl who didn't know how to take care of herself."

God, he was so mesmerized by the flick of her tongue against her glossy upper lip that he could barely remember why he'd taken her hand. Finally, he realized they were standing beside his truck and the door was open.

"Can you climb in okay with those heels on?"

She shot him a sassy look. A look that owned every last letter of her naughty nickname.

"I can do absolutely anything in these heels."

As he closed her door and walked around the back of the truck, he had to adjust himself in his jeans to try to hide his hard-on. The vision of making love to Lori while she was wearing nothing but those red spike heels wouldn't go away as they drove from his farm to his neighbor's property fifteen minutes away.

Grayson parked in a dark corner behind a large grouping of shrubs at the very edge of the parking area. When Lori got out of his truck, it was so dark that she asked, "Are you sure there's a party here tonight?" Before he could answer, she walked around the thick shrubs and finally saw the brightly lit barn, and the colored lanterns that were placed along the path from the parking area.

"Look at all these lights and the lanterns and the decorations! I swear, it looks like the moon has been hung above the barn just for tonight. Why didn't you tell me it would be like this?"

Because he'd never appreciated any of this until right this very second when he could see it through her eyes - eyes that saw the beauty in absolutely everything. But instead of telling her that, he simply held out a hand. "Sounds like the band is already playing. Ready to head in?"

She looked uncertain for a moment before nodding. When she put her hand in his, he realized that holding her that way was shockingly right, as though she really was his girl and he was taking her out for a night of dancing, country style.