Anywhere You Are (5 page)

“If these turn out the way I think they will,” George said, “I'm going to want to see more from you.”

Now, this Grace could get behind. “That'd be great.”

As soon as she'd seen George out, Grace pulled her cellphone from her pocket. The buzz had been a text from Crystal.

“Babe,” was all it said, with a link.

Grace clicked on it and was directed to a tabloid site.

A picture popped up and Grace squinted at the screen.

There she was, immortalized forever in Marc's strong arms.

His face was stony. Hers was just…miserable. She flicked down to the story that inevitably accompanied this kind of picture. “
Gracie Davingham Swept Off Her Feet by Mystery Man,”
the header screamed.

Cheeks burning, she turned off her phone and shoved it deep in her pocket.

No. Just as Crystal had said, normal wasn't in the cards for someone like her. And the sooner she got that, the sooner she could figure out how to move on with the rest of her life.

She already knew how lonely it would be.

The Eastbridge Farmers' Market was in full swing by the time Grace got there at ten o'clock on Saturday morning. It had been a week since the hiking fiasco, and her leg was still aching but seemed to be healing well.

Not so much the rest of her, but anything was better than being in New York, with all its in-your-face flash and glam. Eastbridge was much more down to earth, and if people knew who she was, at least they typically hid it a little better.

Not that she went out much at all these days, preferring the quiet of the woods to the gentle bustle of town. But that meant that sometimes days went by without talking to another human being. The Farmers' Market was her chance to get her weekly airing—to step away from her work, to get out and talk to the few people she knew. In other words, to engage with humanity.

She was still hobbling a little, but she no longer had to use those unwieldy crutches, so she slowly made her way up and down the stalls. She had on her typical out-in-public outfit—jeans, a flowy, gauzy blouse, a pair of sunglasses, and a baseball cap pulled low over her face. Some of the locals recognized her, but most were extremely respectful, and the tourists out today seemed to be clueless. For an hour, she could pretend that she was just a typical Eastbridgian, buying produce and bread, milling around, and talking to her friends and neighbors.

After doing a little produce shopping, she went over to Amber Friedman's jewelry stall. Amber made the coolest stuff—lots of unique stones and curved metal. Grace's favorite pair of earrings was one of Amber's designs, a shimmery curtain of multicolored crystal that fell almost to her shoulders and made her feel like a goddess.

“Heya, Grace!” Amber said, giving her a little wave as she approached.

Grace gave her a hug, which was returned, but as soon as she pulled away, her gaze swept over Amber's table and she found the wrist cuff she'd been coveting right away. The gemstones were a deep, rich red, carefully set into a strip of silver and grouped to create the illusion of glowing embers. It wasn't flashy, but it was on the expensive side, and though she had some money, she couldn't justify the purchase without more cash coming in.

“Are you ready to buy?”

Grace shook her head. She needed to hold off until George paid her for the painting of the bittern, which she hoped would be in the next couple of weeks. “Soon, okay, Amber? You'll save it for me?”

“No problem,” Amber responded. “I know you're good for it. Say, do you like my latest?” She tossed her head, allowing a pair of teardrop-shaped earrings to shimmer in the morning light. “I figured they'd be a hit for fall.”

“Whoa,” Grace said, fingering the jewelry that dangled from Amber's earlobes. “Definitely.” The earrings were made of jade, set in hammered silver. “What amazing craftsmanship. Your work just gets better and better.”

Amber gave her a secret smile. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I'm thinking of trying to sell to stores. What do you think?”

“I think that's great! But would you give up the farmers' markets and your online store?”

“No,” she said. “It'll take some time to get distribution, so I have to keep the other lines of retail strong.”

“That makes sense.”

Amber gave Grace a thoughtful look. “What about you? Have you ever thought about selling online?”

Grace shook her head. “Not yet. I mean, I'm trying to build up my conservation work along with my art. That's kind of an in-person thing.”

“Got it. Still, let me know if you ever want to try it. I feel like you'd probably have a pretty decent platform, to be honest. But I'm guessing you don't want to go that route.”

“No,” Grace confessed. “I'm still hoping to keep the attention where it belongs…on the wildlife, not on me.”

Off in the distance, a dog barked, deep and resonant.

“Speaking of wildlife…” Amber said, and both women laughed.

It was so easy to talk to Amber. She lived close by, in nearby Fairfield, but came to Eastbridge frequently during the summer months. Suddenly, Grace got a great idea.

“I have a few friends who get together every couple of weeks to do a girls' night,” Grace said. “We hang out, usually at my place, and eat, drink, and relax. Maybe you'd be interested in joining us?”

“That sounds nice,” Amber said with a smile. “But I'll be traveling a lot over the next couple of months. This is farmers' market season, so I have a lot of road shows.”

“Maybe in the fall, then?”

Amber gave her arm a warm squeeze. “Count me in. There's nothing I'd love more than to hang out with you and your friends. I'm sure it'll be really fun.”

The deep barking got louder, followed by a scream and a loud crash.

“Sounds like somebody needs to curb their dog,” Grace said with a frown.

Amber peered over Grace's shoulder and her eyes went wide. “Dog?” she said. “It looks more like a horse!”

Grace turned to follow Amber's gaze, and then she saw it—a huge Great Dane barreling down the aisle, chasing a squirrel that was zigzagging every which way to avoid the giant animal. The dog was truly enormous, and it was banging into every stand in its path, leaving complete chaos in its wake.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed.

There was a huge crash, and a man roared in surprise and shock.

“There go John Ainseley's preserves!” Amber said as glass and jam went everywhere. Then croissants went flying and a woman screamed. “And
no,
Martha's pastries in the stall next to his! Poor Martha.”

Grace watched in horrified fascination as the animal raced around after the rodent, its leash trailing behind it like a lashing whip.

“Where's his owner?” she wondered aloud.

At that moment, a man came flying around the corner, running balls to the wall after the dog, hollering something unintelligible and oh, God, it was
him.
Marcus Colby, glasses, suit, and all, looking not so much embarrassed as absolutely furious.
Damn,
the man had some speed on him. Clearly, he must work out when he wasn't working.

But she already knew that.

The dog barked again and veered right, then left, then straightened…heading right. For. Them.

“He's going to hit my booth!” Amber shrieked, spreading her arms like a shield in front of her table. Like that would stop the dog from destroying every last piece of delicate jewelry.

Without even thinking, Grace stepped forward, directly into the path of the frightened squirrel, which veered right to avoid her. As the dog followed, she snatched the end of his leash and
held on
as tightly as she could.

Except she'd forgotten the dog weighed more than she did. The subsequent tug and pull of the dog on the leash almost ripped her arm from its socket as she was jerked forward by force.

“Oof!” Her hat and sunglasses flew off, along with her recyclable shopping bag, as her good knee hit the pavement hard.

She cursed loudly. But she did not let go of that leash.

Fully expecting to be dragged along, she braced herself, but the dog had stopped running. When she realized she wasn't moving, she made to rise, but she was too late. The dog swung around and came at her fast.

She peered up at him, rooted to the spot. Would he growl at her? Bite her?

He did neither. Instead, he bent his great head and, still panting hard, gazed at her with sorrowful blue eyes. Then he gave one earth-shattering bark and licked her cheek with a huge tongue.

Grace melted.

Reaching up, she scratched him behind the ears, and he closed his eyes. “Oh, buddy,” she breathed. “You are in a world of trouble.”

She was vaguely aware of some smattered clapping and muttered whispering. But when a pair of polished oxford dress shoes came into her line of sight, she forgot all about everyone else.

She tipped her head up to find Marc looking down at her, his cheeks red, a look of surprise marring his typically stoic face.

“You!” he exclaimed. Then the mask fell back into place, and for a few long moments, she couldn't get a read on him at all.

She pushed her hair out of her face, more than cognizant that while she was a complete wreck, he was barely winded and utterly gorgeous, despite his mad dash.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

Ever the gentleman. Or should she say Eagle Scout.

She took brief stock. Except for her formerly good knee, which would be a little bruised, she was actually all right. “I think I'm okay.” She patted her ankle and knee, ensuring the braces were still in place. “I'm okay,” she said more firmly.

An expression of relief washed over him, and he held out his hand to help her up. “Allow me.”

She reached out to clasp his palm, and he easily pulled her to her feet. Unbalanced, and not wanting to put any pressure on her newly hurt leg, she stumbled a little, coming right up against his big body. He grasped her waist, his fingers grazing her back.

God, his hands were big.

“Steady there,” he murmured, holding her close, one hand still clasped around hers, his gaze focused. His eyes had darkened in color, gray morphed to steel. She could feel his chest rising and falling against hers. His body was hard and warm and strong.

His lips curled in the barest hint of a smile. “Thanks for grabbing him.”

“You're welcome,” she whispered back.

Unconsciously, she took in his scent. Musk and sweat and man.
Delicious.
Her skin prickled in awareness and her cheeks warmed.

Suddenly conscious of the fact that she'd just smelled him—
smelled him!
—in public, she stepped back. With what seemed like reluctance, Marc let her go.

Beside her, the Great Dane tipped his head up. He had her hat in his mouth.

“Uh, thank you,” she said to the dog. “And ew.” She shoved the now wet hat into her satchel—which miraculously had stayed hooked on her arm—and swept up her shopping bag and sunglasses from the ground, jamming the glasses back on her face.

Marc glared at the dog. “Beast,” he growled.

“He's really yours?” Grace said, blinking.

“Sit,” Marc commanded in a voice that almost had her scrambling to do his bidding herself.

But the Great Dane ignored him, and instead dipped his big head and shamelessly nuzzled her hand.

Marc muttered a curse and his face turned even redder.

He was being too rigid. And the dog wasn't responding well.

“Let me try.” She turned to the dog. “Sit,” she said, in a calm, but firm tone. Immediately, the dog lowered his hind legs and sat, looking up at her. “Stay.” He stayed, too. “Good boy.” She didn't have any edible treats, so she rewarded him with a head scratch instead. Then she smiled at Marc. “He follows directions pretty well.”

“How did you…?” Marc blinked in astonishment, then frowned. “He's never done that for me.”

“Guess I have the magic touch.” She stroked the dog's soft head and he let out a low rumble that she guessed was his way of showing he liked what she was doing. “Seriously, he's really yours?” Somehow, the idea of Marcus Colby with his inflexible demeanor and this gentle giant didn't really fit in her brain.

“Oh, he is,” Marc said, his jaw tight. “I inherited him three days ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, which did nothing except make it look even more perfect. “Though why Aunt Sarah entrusted
me
with him, I'll never know.”

“Hey, Mister!” an angry voice shouted from a safe distance. “That your dog? He destroyed my booth!”

“Mine too!” another voice joined in.

“And mine.”

A small crowd of people, including John and Martha, were making their way toward them. As if on cue, a flashbulb went off. Par for the course in Grace's world, but she flinched all the same. Marc gave the photog a glare and the man quickly scuttled away.

“You seem to have a way with him,” Marc said. “Would you mind keeping an eye on him while I go deal with this?”

“Of course, but I know almost all the vendors here. Are you sure you don't want me to talk to them?”

Marc shook his head. “I made the mess. I'll clean it up,” he said firmly. “Meet you in the park afterward?”

“Okay.”

While Marc went to face the music, Grace led the dog over to Amber's booth.

“Oh, no,” Amber said, backing up, a look of sheer terror on her face. “Nononono.”

“He's harmless,” Grace told her, patting his head. “See?”

As if on cue, the dog let out a deep, giant bark.

Amber screamed and pressed herself against her table of wares.

“It's his way of saying he likes you,” Grace explained, but Amber was having none of it.

“I don't…do…animals,” she said in a quavering voice.

“Sorry,” Grace said. “I'll take him away. But I'll see you next week, okay?”

Amber still looked petrified. “Okay,” she said quickly. “ 'Bye.”

Grace sighed. The last thing she wanted was to freak out her friend. She glanced over to where Marc was in a discussion with the group of vendors. Though at least five people were screaming at him, Marc was keeping his cool. He didn't raise his voice once, just nodded and responded calmly, his expression neutral, in complete command of the situation despite the fact that he was outnumbered and in the wrong. He'd be fine.

“Come,” she ordered the dog, and with a firm grip on the leash, she took him out of the farmers' market and to the town green. Luckily, the area was empty because almost everyone was at the market.

“I forgot to ask Marc about your name,” she said. “We'll just have to wait until he comes back. That okay, buddy?”

He let out a big bark, as if signifying his understanding. Worked for her.

She found an abandoned tennis ball in some bushes, and when the big dog got excited, she unclipped his leash from his collar and threw the ball across the great lawn.