A New Hope (Thunder Point #8)(80)

“You have things in common with me then?” he asked, twirling a little hair around his finger.

“Everything, though it’s hard to think about practical things when we’re naked together. When we’re naked all I can think about is how well we come together, like I was born for this, to be with you. But when I have my clothes on and can think straight, I realize we like the same things, want the same things. I have no trouble imagining why you love your work, why you love all that dirt and manure...”

“That interfering family?” he asked.

“I get the impression from George’s wife that she makes sure she gives them plenty of respect and attention but she runs her own home,” Ginger said. “She has a career.” She looked away. “I won’t ever have a career, you know. I have some regrets about that, too.”

He kissed her nose. “Be yourself, Ginger. You’re perfect the way you are.”

She smiled at him. “I am good with the flowers.”

“So I’ve noticed.” He rolled with her until she was on top of him. “And you’re good with me.”

“You think so, do you?”

“Oh, yes. You get right into my head and won’t leave.”

“Oh, dear—I’m a nag.”

He slapped her on the rump. “I like it, I think.” He pulled her mouth down to his. He moved his hips beneath her. “Nag me a little more now. Before I have to leave you again.”

She played with his hair, which had grown and begun to curl. “Something’s different about you.”

“I’m tired,” he said with a laugh. “Nothing’s different. Especially the way you rejuvenate me.”

In the predawn when he was leaving her, she clung to him. “I hope we can make things work, Matt. I love you so.”

“Don’t worry about anything. We’re going to make it perfect.”

* * *

Something was different with Matt. Thank the grapes—hours of hard work with very little interaction gave a man time to think things through. He’d been there before. In fact, it wasn’t that long ago when he was trying to figure out if it would be safe to let himself fall in love with Ginger. He’d gathered his answers while he worked, silent and introspective.

But while he was communing with the grapes, he was careful not to withdraw from her. That had been his mistake the first time he’d sought insight in his crops. This time he had called her at the end of every day. He was going to remember that—your woman needs to be talked to and touched every day. When your woman feels you’re moving away, she feels abandoned and alone. And she changes her phone number.

She wanted to marry him but couldn’t be wed to his anger. Well, Basque men were a little on the passionate and possessive side and if they got mad, look out. Even sweet old Paco, who had held ten grandchildren on his lap, had his days. He’d had one yesterday, as Matt remembered with a smile. Something had gone wrong with Sal’s grape harvester and holy shit, Paco was livid.

It passed pretty quickly. That was the other thing about men in their family. That flame would go up fast and hot and then it was over. Doused. Reference an ice bucket on Matt’s head at Peyton’s wedding. And aside from some occasional grumbling over the years, Paco had never turned his anger on his wife. His grown sons had been the recipients here and there, but again, once the anger was expressed Paco could move on.

Matt made a resolution. He would go outside, turn on the hose and drench his head before he would ever again turn that black mood he was capable of on his woman. She must never fear or hate him. Ginger was the kindest, most selfless woman he’d ever known. She was so beautiful in her heart. If his words ever touched her with anything less than the purest love, he would be completely ashamed.

They could start with love and trust and go from there. In the spirit of trust, he would do those things Ginger asked him to do. He wasn’t sure they would work worth a damn, but if it showed her he was really making every effort, maybe she would be more patient with him. And if he could bite off that temper and she could be more patient, he couldn’t think of anything standing in their way. Therefore, he was not going home to dig out the smudge pots or check the fruit, although he would, since he was there. He was going home to work through Ginger’s checklist.

Eighteen

“What has your interest so completely?” Winnie asked Lin Su.

She turned toward Winnie. “Come and see,” she said. “Here, let me help you up. You should take a few steps anyway.”

They made their way together, clumsily but efficiently, to the deck rail. Below them on the beach were two beach chairs under a beach umbrella. Frank sat in one, Charlie in the other, each holding their laptops on their knees.

“Dueling computers,” Lin Su said.

“What do you suppose they’re doing?” Winnie asked.

“Lord only knows. Charting solar systems for all I know. Charlie’s laptop is far less sophisticated than Frank’s, but when they sit side by side like that, Frank turns his screen to show Charlie everything interesting he’s looking at. He’s researching for a paper he has to write when he gets back to MIT. He’s a genius.”

“I think Charlie might be a genius, as well,” Winnie said.

“Nah,” Lin Su said. “He’s very smart, though. Much of that comes from the fact that he was housebound so much as a little kid. We found all kinds of educational programs for him. It took his mind off not being able to run and play with the other kids.”