* * *

Even with all the romances Grace had read, just dreaming about true love, nothing had prepared her for what it would really feel like. As she lay naked in Troy’s arms, enjoying postcoital bliss, catching her breath, ready for sleep, she sighed his name.

“Right here, baby,” he said, pulling her tighter against him.

“I think you spoil me.”

“That’s my intention. You feel good?”

“I’m ruined for other men.”

“Good. I can’t think about you ever being with another man.”

They were quiet for a few seconds. “You said ever,” she said.

He rolled her over until she was on top of him, her hair a mussed canopy around their faces. “I did. You bring out some feelings in me that I don’t recognize. I don’t want to think about you ever being with anyone else. I don’t want to be with anyone else.” He brushed back her hair. “I should slow down, right? Because you’re not ready for talk like that. Your other boyfriends never try to hold you down like that.”

She shook her head. Pretend boyfriends rarely did—they were both all too aware of that. Here was the first flesh-and-blood boyfriend to hold her, love her, possess her. She didn’t want anything to change.

“We both know what’s missing from this perfect relationship,” he said.

“Missing?” she asked.

“What you’ve told me about yourself, about growing up, wouldn’t fill a chapter in one of your romances, Grace. Even your paper boyfriends would have questions.”

“But you haven’t asked me any questions,” she said.

He shook his head. “I told you, you can trust me. And when you feel safe you’ll tell me.”

“You think I’m hiding something.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “It’s all right. I’m hiding a few things, too. Just things I don’t talk about a lot. Iraq. I hate talking about Iraq, except sometimes with my boys—we laugh about terrible things that aren’t really funny. There were youthful scrapes here and there. Trouble in high school, but nothing worse than the kids I teach now run into. We have years. We have plenty of time to learn everything about each other. I hope we don’t take too long.”

“But what if I say something that changes everything?” she asked him.

“See, that’s the other thing missing—you know me, Gracie. You think I’m that kind of guy? That I’d measure you? Judge you by something in your past? You’re an amazing, beautiful, kind, wonderful woman. I dare you to try to change my opinion.”

She chewed her bottom lip. Do it, she told herself. Do it now.

But she couldn’t. Not naked!

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Is that why you came over tonight?”

He looked startled for a moment, then he started to laugh. He rolled with her again so that she was beneath him. “No, no. Gracie, the second you put your lips on me, you empty my brain! Don’t you understand—I can’t stay away from you? If I’m alone with you, I can’t think of anything but getting busy. Then I want to do it again. Then I want to eat.”

“Does everyone make love this much?”

“I don’t know. They should. I think we’re getting better, don’t you?”

She nodded and smiled.

“I wanted to come over and tell you—a friend of mine is coming to visit in a couple of weeks, if it works out. And I have to ask a favor—can I stay with you while he’s here? I don’t have an extra room or bed. If it was just Denny, I’d take the couch, but he’s bringing his wife and she’s pregnant. I think they could use a decent place to sleep and a little privacy.”

“You stay here half the time anyway,” she said.

“Will you check your calendar, because if you have a wedding or something, we’ll change dates. He’s a farmer, see, and he either comes before the planting gets serious or he has to wait till after harvest.”

“A farmer?” she asked. “You never mentioned a friend who’s a farmer.”

“He’s a buddy from the Marines and he stumbled on this organic farm down in California. He was just helping out while he was looking for a better job and it turned out he liked it. His wife is a teacher like me, that means it’s weekends or nothing.”

“A farmer and a teacher?” she asked. “Wow, that’s so...normal!” With normal childhoods, no medals or stalkers, going to school every day, going to the prom, getting speeding tickets or into fights or falling in love like normal kids...

“Wait till Denny tells you about his farm—it’s pretty far-out. So—can you check for weddings? Because I know you have to keep the shop open, at least a little bit, but I was hoping we could have some fun with them.”

“If I don’t have any big events I can post a notice that I’ll close early on that Saturday.”

“That would be great, Gracie. If you wouldn’t mind too much, if it doesn’t cost too much. Because we could have fun. And with Becca pregnant, it won’t be anything too adventurous.”

“So, you’re not going to risk your life this time?” she asked.

He snuggled closer. “Gracie, sweetheart, wiggle up against me...yeah, just like that. Move those perfect little hips, aah. You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

“Tell me about Denny’s farm,” she said.

“No, we’re not talking about him anymore. He’s a buzzkill.” He grabbed her legs at the backs of her knees, lifting them, tilting her upward. “God, you’re magic. I’m glad I taught you how to do this.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Don’t you think I’d have caught on eventually? Are you really going to take credit?”

“It makes me feel manly,” he said. Then his breath caught. “God,” he said when he felt her hand on him, gently stroking. “Gracie, Gracie, you’re a witch... You’re going to kill me, that’s what you’re going to do. Please, kill me.”

She directed him into her, felt him fill her, dug her heels in and pushed against him. Then she wrapped her legs around him and rode with him, stroke for delicious stroke, just like they’d been doing it for years. She came first. When she felt him let go, she held on. He liked it when she did that. And when he was coming down she whispered, so softly he might not have heard, “I love you.”