“I wanted to get here too badly.”
Grover stood then, easily taking Sierra with him, placing her feet on the boards under them. He guided her to the side of the couch, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Stay here a sec while I close the doors.”
Sierra nodded and watched carefully as he closed and latched the doors. She wanted to know how to do it herself. She loved thinking about a future here with Grover. Again, intellectually, she knew they were both rushing things, but at the moment she didn’t give a damn. For the first time in over a year, she looked forward to what tomorrow would bring. It felt as if she had her whole life in front of her.
Looking at the couch, Sierra could practically see her and Grover lying on it, naked, after having made love. The vision was so vivid, she knew she’d do whatever she could to make it come true sooner rather than later.
Some people might assume she was too traumatized by what had happened to her in Afghanistan to want to be intimate with someone so quickly, but that definitely wasn’t the case. Maybe if she hadn’t spent the two weeks with Grover at The Refuge, she’d feel differently. But since they’d spent almost every second of the day and night together, their relationship had been fast-forwarded.
They’d talked about things she never would’ve considered telling any of her past boyfriends, even the ones she’d dated for a few months. They’d been through something so fundamentally life-altering and intense, and that had changed them. Made them more open to each other, perhaps.
Whatever it was, Sierra wasn’t afraid of Grover. He could smush her like a bug since he was so much taller and heavier than she was, but she knew with every fiber of her being that he’d die before doing anything to hurt her.
“Hold on to my shoulder as we go down the stairs,” he said.
And that just proved her point.
She trusted him. Respected him. Appreciated him. Loved him.
Loved…
As Sierra grasped his large shoulders, she realized she wasn’t freaked out by the thought of loving him. It was scary, because she knew more than most women how dangerous Grover’s job was. But she wasn’t going to be scared to get involved with him because of something that could happen. Look what she’d survived. Dating Grover wouldn’t be a cake walk, but it’d be a hell of a lot easier than being locked inside a mountain, being used as a punching bag by a bunch of terrorists.
They reached the bottom of the spiral stairs and Grover looked down at her. “Should I be worried about what put that sly smile on your face?”
“Nope,” Sierra told him happily, as she hooked her arm in his.
“I like you like this,” he said as they headed for the large doors that led into his yard.
“Like what?”
“Happy. Confident.”
“Me too,” she told him. “Me too.”
Grover was so thrilled Sierra was here, he could barely contain himself. He hadn’t planned on making out with her quite so soon after she’d arrived, but sitting on that couch with her, admiring the view, had been so much better than he’d even dreamed. He was relieved she found beauty in the land like he did. He’d been a little worried it would be underwhelming after growing up in the mountains, then after spending time at The Refuge.
They made a detour on their way to his house to her car, so he could grab her suitcase. The compact Subaru Impreza wasn’t something he would’ve picked, but for Sierra, it was a perfect size. He knew she’d been a little nervous about the drive from Colorado to Texas, as it had been so long since she’d been behind the wheel of a car, but she’d picked it back up quickly. Her parents had bought her the car and refused to let her feel guilty about it. She’d told him that she was going to pay them back once she was on her feet financially.
Grover was as proud of his house as he was the barn, and could only hope that Sierra would find it as comfortable and relaxing as he did. He held open the front door and followed behind her. He left her suitcase by the door, planning to grab it later after he’d given her a tour. She put her purse on a side table and walked inside the large, open great room with her head tilted back.
“Wow, the ceiling is amazing!” she said.
Grover nodded. “Yeah, it was one of the things that sold me on the place. I love that they’re so high, makes me feel less hemmed in.”
Grover stood back and watched as Sierra explored his home. She stopped in front of the huge windows at the back of the room and stared out onto his property for a long moment. The back of the house had a similar view as the barn loft, with a manageable expanse of lawn meeting the tall grass. He hadn’t fenced anything in, loving how open and vast the land seemed.
Eventually, Sierra turned away from the view and continued to take in his house. There were two more leather couches in the living area, with a coffee table and a few other small tables strategically placed so no matter where someone sat, they’d have a place to put a drink. He had lamps to warm the space and his favorite recliner was in one corner. When he sat there, he had a view of both the TV and the large windows.
Sierra walked into the kitchen next and lifted the lid of the Crockpot. She turned and smiled at him. “Smells delicious.”
“It is. It’s my mom’s recipe and she’d kill me if I messed it up.”
Grover was pretty pleased with his kitchen. He didn’t care about having all the fancy appliances the salesperson tried to convince him he needed. He ended up going with stainless steel, but nothing over-the-top. His six-burner gas stove was more than he needed, but because the people who owned the house last had a six-burner stove, it made sense to get the same size rather than have to redo the cabinets.
Sierra peeked into the pantry, then turned around and raised an eyebrow at him.
“I know, I know,” he said. “It’s big.”
“Big? Jeez, Grover, you’ve got enough stuff in there to last you at least three years. Are you a prepper or what?”
Grover laughed. “No. But I like to be prepared. Since I live out of the city a ways, I sometimes lose power. So I’ve got enough water, paper towels, toilet paper, pasta, soup, and other dry goods to last through any prolonged loss of power.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
Grover decided not to tell her about the emergency generator hooked up to the house in case he did lose power. It was more common to see generators in the north, where the cold weather knocked out the power more often than down here in Texas, but he liked the sense of safety the generator gave him. The truth was, he was kind of a prepper. He always wanted to make sure he had what he needed to provide for himself, his family—if he ever had one—and even his neighbors, if a disaster struck.
After she toured the kitchen, they were on their way down the hall so he could show her the media room he’d once bragged about. She stopped and fingered a lamp sitting on a table near the hall. “Is this handmade?”
“It is,” Grover agreed. He hadn’t wanted to get into this right now, but since she noticed, he figured he might as well admit to one of his quirks. “It’s not just a lamp,” he told her. He walked over and pressed a small button near where the lightbulb was screwed in, and one side of the wide, heavy wooden base fell open, revealing a hidden compartment.