Falling for Grace (Four Winds) (8 page)

Grace laughed.  "Okay, I think we're set.  Good job.  I had no idea a guy could be so thorough with his shopping."  She patted his shoulder affectionately, stopping to feel the hard bunch of muscles under his tee shirt.

Rafe's breath hissed in at her touch, and she looked up at him to see his eyes boring into her.  She removed her hand.  "Um…sorry."  She turned away, suddenly feeling awkward.

Rafe started whistling to himself, while he straightened his purchases.

"I'm going to go shower.  The wind blew sand all in my hair."  She said in an effort to change the atmosphere from the awkward sexual tension that she had just created.  She realized that pointing out she was going to be naked under hot running water was probably inviting more sexual tension, but chose to ignore it, playing dumb, as she walked to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, when she emerged from the bathroom, Rafe looked up from the futon with a hopeful grin on his face.  "Do you want to watch some videos before the power goes out?  I got a romance, a comedy, a suspense, and a horror.  I wasn't sure which you would like."

Grace was taken aback by the gesture.  "Oh.  Um…the comedy."  It really was thoughtful.  This way, they wouldn't be sitting here staring at each other more than necessary, her thoughts leaning towards the erotic, his thoughts leaning…where were his thoughts?  Surely not where hers had been during her entire shower.

Grace sat next to him on the futon, trying not to touch him.  As soon as she got settled, Rafe hopped to his feet. 

"I can make some popcorn, if you want?"

She giggled into the back of her hand.  He was acting so nervous.  "Sure, Rafe.  Popcorn would be nice."

Grace admired his backside surreptitiously as he sauntered into the kitchen.  She heard him banging around on the stove for a little bit, before a strange noise came from the kitchen.  She stood and followed him in.

"What are you doing?"  She asked.  He was vigorously shaking a pot on the stove, holding the lid on tight.

He looked at her, surprised.  "Popping pop corn."

She leaned against the wall across from him.  "We have microwave popcorn."  At his deflated look, she went on, "But if you want to make it that way, that's fine too.  It's just that I've never had popcorn made like that before."

He quirked an eyebrow at her.  "You've never…then you've never had
real
popcorn.  Go back in there and prepare yourself for a culinary masterpiece."  He shook the pot with a flourish before shooing her out of the kitchen.  Ten minutes later, he came out with a dish towel over his shoulder, a giant bowl of popcorn in his arms, and a sexy dimpled smirk on his face.  Grace willed the rising blush to go away.

"Feast on this."  He sat down next to her and draped the towel over her lap before setting the bowl between them.

Grace had a hard time smothering her grin as she grabbed a giant handful of the fluffy kernels and popped them into her mouth.  She groaned in ecstasy and Rafe's eyes widened.

"Okay.  This is so much better than microwave popcorn."  She munched on another handful.

"And healthier, too.  Start the movie up."  He grabbed a handful, and striking his trademark pose of nonchalance, leaned back, hitching his ankle over his knee and tossed the popcorn into his mouth.

They watched movies the rest of the evening, thoroughly enjoying each other's company.  Grace was pleased with the movies he'd picked, as she hadn't seen any of them.  He laughed in all the appropriate places and even chuckled a couple of times during the scary movie, especially when Grace started scrunching up and hiding her eyes. 

More than a few times, their hands met in the popcorn bowl.  After the first time or two, Grace was used to the tiny spark of electricity that flowed up to her elbow and was able to breathe regularly after touching his hand.  The ever-present heat in her belly caused by his nearness never went away, and she couldn't get used to it.  It made her heart pound, and a couple of times, she'd looked down and had seen her tee shirt rising and falling with her heartbeat, confident that Rafe could see it too.

When the movies were over, Grace rose from the futon as Rafe turned everything off.  She walked to her bedroom door and turned to speak to him, but he was at her heels.  When she turned, she was looking at his tanned neck and his Adam's apple, taunting her.

"Grace."  His voice was soft and caused her hair to flutter at his breath.  She looked up into his eyes, as he backed up a step.  "I'm having a good time, here with you."

"Me too, Rafe."  She smiled at him weakly.  "Goodnight."  She let herself into her room and sighed loudly.  She wasn't going to survive the next couple of days with this man in her house.

Chapter Ten

Rafe was in the bathroom brushing his teeth the next morning, reflecting on his corporeal body.

Teeth brushing.  That wasn't a normal thing for him.  Neither was showering.  Or shaving. 

Usually, his work was done on a different realm.  He traveled in the cosmic soup, visiting people in their dreams, subconsciously, or their conscious minds.  He became a temporary part of their psyche.  He dropped in on surgeons during surgery, to help guide shaky, sleep-deprived hands.  Rafe had passed out ideas to the stumped healers, in a sudden flash of brilliance.  He visited dreams.  He was responsible for many '
Eureka!' moments. 

Rarely, had he come to earth in a human body.  He'd been visiting Grace during saves for the past three years in her mind, allowing her to do her job the way she had been trained to do, only providing moral support.  He hadn't had to step in with her, yet.

Head-hopping was one of his many talents.  He had the ability to jump inside of another person's head and sense what they were thinking.  He didn't get clear visions, only vague perceptions.  As tempting as it was to be inside her mind all the time, he hadn't done it to Grace.

Much.

He enjoyed having a body.  It felt good.  He stood in front of the mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist, sensing his body.  He could feel the muscles in his arm and shoulder flex as he brushed, enjoyed the feel of the bristles against his teeth and tongue.  He flexed his toes against the bathmat, scrunching them into the thick pile, feeling his calves bunch.  He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, delighted at the various ways that the human body secreted by-products.  Marvelous.

The delight in feeling himself was interrupted by Grace opening the bathroom door, surprising him.  He turned to her, and gaped undone by what he saw.

She was standing there, bleary-eyed, wearing nothing but a knit camisole and a pair of the tiniest bikini panties he'd ever seen on a woman in the flesh.  He was frozen, eyes wide, toothbrush in his mouth, toothpaste foaming and dripping, looking like a rabid dog.  He was aware of his groin muscles tightening, his testicles shrinking abruptly.

Grace was frozen too.  He saw her jaw drop, framing her wide luscious mouth in a perfect O.  Her blue eyes widened and an attractive blush crawled up her chest to her cheeks.  Her wide eyes traveled from his face down his torso, to the towel wrapped around his waist before dropping to her feet, where they began the climb up her own body.

She snapped her mouth shut, and she began to sputter as realization dawned.

"I-I'm so sorry.  I should have knocked."  Her hands went to cover herself.  "I'm not used to a man living here."  Turning, she tossed over her shoulder as she darted out of the bathroom, "I'll just use the other one!"

Chuckling to himself, Rafe looked down, noticing his erection, making a tent out of his towel.  The tightness in his groin should have been a give away, but he'd been so taken aback by her appearance in the doorway that he hadn't taken in the implications of his blood flow altering its course from his testicles to other places. 

Spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth, Rafe whistled as he went into his room to dress for the day.  It would be exciting, he was sure.

The wind tousled the braid in Grace's hair as she sat in the stand on the beach, watching the waves.  Storms always brought out the surfers and the fishermen.  Galveston was not known for its waves, unless there was a storm, and Grace couldn't remember a time when she hadn't had to help out somebody who got carried away and stopped paying attention to the rip tides.

She wasn't officially on duty.  The beaches were supposed to be shut down, and Mark had told her not to come out.  He knew she felt duty-bound, for some reason.  She knew that her presence gave a false sense of security to the people out there, but without her presence, they were in more danger.  It was a Catch-22, and Grace would stay out here until the storm got worse.  She always did.

The turbid waters displayed an intensity that was rare for Galveston.  The wind whipped her jacket around her waist, and she could feel tiny water droplets in the air on her face.  She could smell the ozone from the impending storm, and electricity in the air made the hair on her arms stand up.  Grace knew that in a couple of hours, the tide would rise, making her job impossible, and she hoped that the people in the water would go home. 

Shuddering on the stand brought her attention down, and she saw Rafe climbing the steps.  His tall frame dwarfed the stand when he got to the top, and smiled down at her.

"Thought I might find you here." 

She shrugged, ignoring the heat in her belly, and returned her gaze to the water, resuming her counting and scanning.

He sat on the bench next to her, and the chill in the air dissipated at his nearness. 

"You're not officially on duty, are you?  I thought the beaches were closed.  This seems like a police matter," he said softly.

She shrugged.  "They're busy with people evacuating, and looting.  Nobody else will do this, so why not?"

"Because it's dangerous, that's why."

"It's dangerous for them, too."  She blew her whistle at a surfer who had gone too close to the jetty, and motioned for him to move over.  He complied.

"You're only breeding confidence in their foolishness.  With you here, they have a false sense of security."

"I know that, but they'll be out here, regardless.  Somebody has to keep an eye out for them."

"Don't you think somebody does?"

Confused, she looked over at him, but his face was a mask.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think that we are all being watched over?  That a higher power knows what's going on?"

Grace could remember going to
Vacation Bible School with a friend one summer when she was nine.  Her mother was all about the week of free babysitting, and Grace wanted to spend time with her friend.  But she didn't realize that the church where the bible school was held would be so scary.  The teachers there convinced her that if she didn't confess her love for Jesus and become "saved" that she would end up in a fiery pit somewhere, doomed to be evil for eternity.  As a nine-year old, she was terrified at the notion, and marched herself to the altar to get dunked in a tub of water.  Her life hadn't changed.  She didn't become a different person.  And her mom had been pissed at her when she went home and proudly told her what she'd done.  So, no.  She didn't really believe a higher power knew everything that was going on.  Although the power emanating these storms was impressive.

Instead of telling this near stranger the story, Grace shrugged at Rafe.  She returned her gaze to the water, where the fishermen were standing in their waders, baskets attached to their hips, casting into the turbulent waters.  Fish weren't really worth this, were they?  "I hadn't really thought about it."

He was silent, leaning back on the bar behind the bench, watching the water with her.   

She broke the silence.  "Besides, I like watching the power from here."

"Pardon?"

"The power.  Mother Nature, God, whatever you want to attribute this to."  Her hands waved in an encompassing sweep across the waves in front of her.  "I love storm watching."

"Me too."  But as she glanced over, she realized he wasn't watching the storm.  He was watching her.

Redirecting her gaze, Grace noticed a fisherman was missing from the cluster.  She stood and raised her binoculars.  Dammit, she'd gotten distracted and hadn't seen where he went.

She saw him, then.  He bobbed in the waves several feet from where he'd been, his waders having gotten swamped.  She threw off her jacket, blowing her whistle shrilly, out of habit, not because there was anybody else there to help her.

Ignoring Rafe's protests, she jumped from the stand and went running into the water with her shorts on.  The air was cold, but the gulf waters were still warm.

As she swam out to the man, she could feel the rip tide pulling on her body, aiding her swim, dragging her out into the gulf.  She tried not to think about how hard it would be to get back carrying the man.

She pumped her arms and legs, running through the steps of the save in her mind, vaguely aware that she was missing something.

When she got to the man, the air that must have been trapped in his waders had kept his feet afloat, but his face was under water, being pummeled by the waves.  He was unconscious.

Grabbing him around the shoulders, Grace pulled his face out of the water, and tried to speak to him.  Getting no response, she turned to drag him back to shore.

She almost swam into Rafe, who was with her in the water, holding a pocket knife up.  He must have followed her out.

"Here, let me cut those things off."  He slipped the blade under the suspender straps and cut them off easily, dropping the weight off the limp body.  Grabbing under one of the man's arms, Rafe helped her pull him back to shore.

Together, they fought the rip tide, Rafe's powerful muscles adding strength to Grace's attempts.  She was sure that she probably wouldn't have been able to do this alone.  The surf was just too strong.

By the time they'd made it to shore, Grace's breath was coming in ragged gasps, but the adrenaline was flowing.  Everybody else had exited the water, much to her relief.  She turned the man over and began administering CPR.

As she worked, the green haze filtered her vision, tunneling it, and Rafe's comforting hand rested on her lower back.

"You're doing good, Grace," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but she could hear it clearly over the pounding surf.  It was almost as if he spoke inside her head. 

She was aware of Rafe shifting beside her, so he could touch the man.  "Let me help.  I'll do the compressions."  He straddled the man and laid his hands on his chest.  Grace breathed into his mouth, and Rafe pushed on his chest.  Almost immediately, the man began to sputter and cough, water coming out of his nose and mouth.  She turned him to his side and lifted his arm, to help.

His fishing buddies and the surfers had been standing around, silently watching.  When the man regained consciousness, there was a collective sigh, and the surfers began to disperse, muttering appreciations to Grace under their breath.  The fishermen helped their companion to his feet and led him off.  Grace turned to Rafe.

"Thank you for the help.  I'm not sure I could have done that alone."  Feeling chagrined, she felt a sizzle in her insides at the look he was giving her.

It was a look of compassion, mixed with awe, and it took her breath away.  She suddenly realized why his eyes looked so familiar.  They were the same shade of green as the haze that came over her during her saves.  He seemed so…otherworldly.  No wonder when she looked at his eyes, she felt so calm.

As she shook her head to clear the thought, a gust of wind came from across the gulf, nearly knocking her over.  Rafe reached for her elbow.

"Can we go home, now?"

Nodding, she turned as he grabbed her hand and led her off the beach. 

The storm gathered in intensity as they made their way back to the house, rain beginning to fall, pelting their exposed skin with needle pricks.  By the time they reached home, they were both soaked to the skin, and the cool wind had her teeth chattering.  But Rafe held her hand the whole way, and it made Grace warm, the sensation traveling up her arm and coursing through her body.  She ignored it as best she could.

Grace giggled at Rafe, as he shook the water out of his hair in front of the door before going inside.  He grinned down at her, wet hair hanging around his face.  She reached up and tucked a piece behind his ear, fingering the tendril.

"You're soaked," she said softly.

"You're every bit as wet as I am.  Let's get inside and change, shall we?"  He opened the door for her, and ushered her inside.