Chapter Twenty-three

"So?" Lori said to Grayson as they headed north toward her San Francisco apartment in his truck. "Did you survive my family?"

Grayson knew the clock had been ticking from the moment she'd crashed into the fence post on his driveway two weeks ago, but now it felt as though time was racing at warp speed. Days had become hours. Hours had become minutes. Too soon, they'd be left with mere seconds.

"You've got a great family." His words came out a little too raw, but Lord, he was going to miss her.

"What did I tell you?" she said with a jaunty little grin. "And no one even punched you, so that was a plus."

Sunday lunch hadn't exactly been comfortable for him, but her family really was great.

"Believe me," he told her, "it was close there for a while. If your sister hadn't saved me from your brothers, I would have been a goner for sure."

The sound of Lori's laughter filled up all the places that had been dark and cold and empty before, and as he drank it in, he wished like hell that he'd done more joking with her and less grumbling.

Then again, she'd pushed every last one of his buttons, hadn't she?

Lori reached for his hand and rubbed her thumb over his palm as they drove. Affection was such a simple thing for her, and now he knew where she'd learned her capacity to love: from her family.

"I'm the yellow two-story apartment on the corner," she said, pointing half a block ahead. He found a spot just outside and grabbed her suitcase, and when she opened the door, he wasn't surprised by the color, the energy, the exotic sculptures and paintings displayed on every possible surface. Where everything in his farmhouse was there by necessity, nothing Lori had would ever be called necessary...and yet, it all was. Because everything, from the clay figurine of dancing girls to the tribal masks hanging from the walls, made up the incredible woman that she was.

"I got this in South Africa," she told him when she found him looking at a vibrant, brilliantly stitched wall hanging. "And this one," she said, pointing to a painting of a young boy and girl about to kiss, "came from Paris." He recognized city scenes from London to Sydney, all places she'd clearly danced in and would again.

The chasm between his life and hers grew deeper from moment to moment. Because that was all they had left now.

Moments.

And every one of them was precious.

Lori was holding his hand and pulling him down the hall, saying, "It shouldn't take me long to grab some T-shirts and jeans, and then we can - " when Grayson tugged her back toward him.

He took her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her with a desperation he couldn't control. She immediately melted into his arms, her strong body so sweetly pliant in passion. They quickly ended up against the wall, one of her legs coming up to wrap around his hips, her hands threaded into his hair.

They were just seconds from having a hot and dirty quickie in her apartment. But that wasn't how Grayson wanted to say good-bye, damn it.

"What's wrong?" She reached up a hand to cup his jaw. "You've been on edge for the whole drive." She gave him a crooked little smile. "And not just your normal level of edge."

He stared into her eyes, so full of life, so bright - brighter than any star in the sky. Brighter even than the sun. "I love you."

She stroked his cheek. "I love you, too."

Her smile this time was soft. And so sweet he nearly broke right then and there and fell to his knees to beg her to stay with him. And to never, ever leave.

"Now spit it out," she demanded.

He hadn't talked to her once before, hadn't let her in. But now he knew he had to. Even if every word he said was going to rip his heart out of his chest a little further.

"We both know we're not here so that you can pick up new clothes."

A flash of fear passed through her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a wicked little smile. "I planned for us to tangle up my sheets, too."

Ruthlessly shoving back the vision of stripping off her clothes and making love to her in her bright and sunny apartment, he said, "You've got to deal with what happened in Chicago."

"You're right. I do have to go." She tilted her head back enough that she could look up into his eyes. "But while I'm gone, I don't want to leave you on the farm by yourself."

"I was alone for three years." He'd never forgive himself if he was the reason Lori didn't take her life and career by the horns again and show it who was boss. "I'm pretty good at it, you know."

She shook her head. "You're too good at it. That's what worries me."

"Don't worry about me."

"All this time you've been looking for a way to make me leave," she said, clearly trying to tease him, but sounding more sad than anything else. "But just as you couldn't get rid of Sweetpea, you're not getting rid of me this easily, either." She looked deeply into his eyes, as if to make sure he really saw the truth of what she was saying to him.

I'm coming back to you.

He kissed her then, long and sweet and soft, before saying all the things he should already have said to her a thousand times over. "I've never had food as good as what you make, the chickens don't want to eat scraps from anyone but you, the crops have been growing twice as fast since they first felt your green thumbs...and Mo and the pigs and I have never loved anyone more than we love you."

"Oh, Grayson." Her face finally crumbled, her beautiful mouth wobbling, tears running down her cheeks. "It would be so much easier if you'd just be cranky and bossy right now."

God, the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life was giving up what he wanted so that the woman he loved could get what she needed. "Now that you've whipped my farm into shape and taught everyone in Pescadero how to line dance just like they do it in Nashville, it's time to go show that idiot in Chicago what you're made of."

She sniffled, nodded, hugged him close and held on tight. They stood together in her hallway, two people who should never have been together...but who couldn't ever have found what they'd found with anyone else.

When she suddenly pulled back, her eyes were dry and filled with the resolve and determination that he'd seen on the farm every time he'd challenged her - and she'd challenged him right back. "Before I head off for Chicago and you go back to your farm to feed your chickens, I think that I should teach you a new dance."

"What's the dance called?" he asked as she led him into her bedroom.

She was already pulling him down over her on the bed as she answered, "The tangle."