Falling for Grace (Four Winds)

  Falling for Grace

  Book #2 in the Four Winds Series

  Anne Conley

  Copyright 2013

  Amazon edition

  Discover other titles by Anne Conley at Amazon.com

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  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design by Vanessa Booke, copyright 2013.

  Edited by Catherine DePasquale.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  He used to be one of the favorites. He thought back to the time, eons ago, when he was a chosen one. Sure, he’d screwed up, but who hadn’t? Was it really worth everything he’d gone through? He’d suffered enough. Now was his time. He was choosing mates for his Four Winds, and Damien wanted in on the action. He deserved it, too. He’d been with Him just as long as the others, even if he had fallen out of favor.

  He’d given in too soon to Uri, but this time he would do things differently. This time, he would get the girl. He deserved some goodness in his pitiful existence, didn’t he?

  Chapter One

  The whitecaps crashed onto shore as the hot wind whipped his hair around his face, the sun beating down on his skin. He swigged from his water bottle as he wrinkled his nose at the smell of refuse from the trash can behind him mixed with the odor of sunscreen and sea salt.

  Rafe watched the crowded beach, marveling at God’s creations. Humans. Each one was different: different shape, different color, different smell.

  Rafe's eyes wandered the beach, taking in all the people. The Boss certainly did know what he was doing when he made humans. They were truly unique, in Rafe's opinion. The human form was breath-taking. Rafe looked down at himself. His body wasn't so bad, either.

  His gaze travelled to the lifeguard on the stand in front of him, his reason for being here. The August heat was oppressive, cooking everything in its ozone, but she seemed impervious to it. She struck a lazy pose, twirling her whistle to her side while she watched the water. Rafe knew she was counting swimmers in her zone, constantly counting, alert for signs of distress.

  If the human form was a work of art, hers was a masterpiece. Her long, sun-bleached hair was pulled back into a plait at the base of her neck, and her limbs were toned and tanned. She held herself with a graceful assurance that contradicted the alertness that laid underneath. He knew she took her job seriously. That’s what had drawn her to him in the first place. Rafe knew that she was a beautiful person inside.

  He’d been seeing that for years, but he hadn’t realized how physically attractive she was.

  His own corporeal form took a sideline to that of others. He’d seen himself. Not often, but he’d been around awhile, and he was familiar with his own musculature, his longish hair, his green eyes that some found arresting. He knew he was in better physical shape than most, but that was to be expected.

  His physical form wasn't one he took very often, but The Boss had given him leave to grant his request. His plea, really. Rafe wasn't sure how long he would have to do this, but he knew he only had as much time as a human's life span would allow. And life was short, wasn't it? How many lifetimes had he lived through? Countless.

  The sight of a man falling off the jetty in the distance distracted Rafe from his thoughts, and he saw her as she checked through her binoculars while trilling sharp tweets from her whistle. He watched as she leapt from the stand, backboard over her head, and began running into the water for her save. He laid back in the sand and closed his eyes.

  Grace was half-way through her hour-long morning shift on the stand, scanning her zone, when a man fell of the concrete jetty that jutted out into the bay about two hundred feet. When he didn't immediately climb out of the water, she blew her whistle, two short, sharp tweets signaling she needed a partner, grabbed the backboard, and ran into the water.

  She launched herself toward her target, without thinking about anything besides the save. She knew that the next lifeguard down the beach would have heard her whistle, seen her run, and called in to headquarters to report it before coming to her aid. Her supervisor would be out in less than ten minutes to help her and get her report. All she needed to focus on was getting this man out of the water.

  As she swam, being careful to keep the backboard close to her body to reduce the drag it created, her mind played over the steps to getting a victim on it while in the water. It was something she'd done in training countless times, but in real situations, only a few.

  Pumping her arms and legs, she was on autopilot. She could swim in these waters in a hurricane, with ease. Today was calm, though. Looking up to check her progress, Grace noticed that the man had floated off a little, but thankfully was wearing a life vest. She tucked her head in and kept swimming.

  As her thoughts were automatically going through the steps of the save, a soft green light permeated the haze of her brain, bringing her a comforting peace.

  "It's alright, Grace. You're doing perfectly." The words vaguely floated through her subconscious and Grace barely noticed them. She felt them, but they didn't quite register. Not paying attention to the voice in her head, only her progress, she made her way to the man, who was bobbing in the waves perilously close to the jetty.

  "Sir! Are you alright?" She called out to him, as she swam up, gauging his response. There was none, as his eyes were closed. She turned to see her backup swimming out to her swiftly. Relieved to see it was Trissa, a girl that she'd worked with before and a good partner, Grace turned back to the man and sprang into action, checking for vitals and responses.

  When the other lifeguard got to her, they went to work, attaching the man to the backboard in the water. Grace attached the straps, while Trissa kept the man's neck stabilized. Her instincts told her what to do through the green haze. Automatically, she strapped him onto the board, while Trissa held it down. Since he'd fallen from the jetty, he could have a concussion, or worse, and she didn't want to potentially aggravate spinal injuries by dragging him through the waves to the shore.

  She was vaguely aware of a round of cheers that came after they'd finished buckling the man onto the backboard and started towing him to shore. She ignored it, as she began her swim back to where she could see Mark standing there, at the ready, to come assist if she gave the signal.

  Hauling the man to shore, Grace took a moment to congratulate herself. This could have been a bad save, and she was glad that the man had been wearing a life preserver. He was at least breathing with a pulse, although she wouldn't know the extent of his injuries until the ambulance personnel looked him over. She look
ed up again, and saw the flashing lights of the ambulance parked on the Sea Wall, as the EMTs traveled down the steps. They would carry the man up the steps on the backboard before strapping him onto a stretcher and taking him to the hospital.

  Grace breathed a relieved sigh, as she and Trissa, with Mark's help dragged the man onto shore to another round of applause, which she ignored. She was just doing her job.

  Her replacement was already on the stand, and Mark gave her and Trissa the nod to go back to headquarters.

  "I'll meet you guys over there in a little while. Just hang out a bit, okay?" She nodded to him and started the climb up to her truck. The green haze had left as soon as the man got onto shore, leaving Grace feeling a sense of loss that she couldn't explain.

  Headquarters was on the Sea Wall, centrally located close to the middle of the city-run beach. It contained boats and wave runners, also used for rescues. Grace grabbed the papers she needed, went to the back office, and started filling them out. Grace would fill out the sequence of events, and Mark would go back in and fill in the names and contact information she hadn’t gotten.

  About halfway through the packet of papers, Brad breezed in, kissing the top of her head.

  "Hey, I heard about it. Was it a bad one?" Concern filled his eyes.

  "No. Just a fisherman who fell off the jetty."

  "You wanna go out tonight?" He walked around behind her and squeezed her shoulders.

  "Nah, not tonight." She shrugged.

  He gave her shoulder one last squeeze. "Can I come over, then?"

  "Yeah." She leaned back into his fingers, relishing the comfort he was trying to give. His shoulder massages were awful, but the intent was there, and Grace appreciated it.

  "Okay. I'll bring by some dinner." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, gave her shoulders a final squeeze, and breezed out the door, as quickly as he came in.

  Grace watched him leave. He was a handsome guy, and he was nice and thoughtful, and as long as she didn't focus on the lack of spark between them, she was fine. He was taller than her, at five feet eleven inches, with broad shoulders and a muscular build. They had met in training this summer, making friends during breaks and going out to lunch together. They were friends, and Grace was trying to enjoy the benefits.

  After finishing her report, Grace hung around headquarters, first sweeping the floors, then taking a turn at the dispatch desk, before Mark finally released her for the evening.

  Mentally drained, she hopped into her truck, a rusted out Chevy from the early eighties, and drove home.

  Chapter Two

  Grace and her roommates lived a few blocks from the Sea Wall, in a rent house with four bedrooms. It was overpriced, but not in a horrible neighborhood, so she and her friends forked over the extra cash each month for the illusion of safety. Galveston Island was only eleven miles long and about a mile and a half wide, so in reality, crooks had the opportunity to travel easily to the good neighborhoods to wreak their mischief, but the roommate's families felt better about this particular living arrangement.

  Walking into her home, Grace was assaulted by the sound of cabinet doors banging shut.

  "Where the hell are my Grape-Nuts?" Nicole's voice greeted her, as she came into the kitchen to find her friend just home from work as well, scrounging for something to eat for dinner.

  Sinking onto a bar stool, Grace responded, "Bad day?"

  Nicole rolled her eyes. "I hate tourists."

  "Without tourists, we wouldn't have jobs, Nic. Have you looked over there?" She nodded her head in the direction of the cabinets over the coffee maker. Nicole followed her gaze and found her treasured box of cereal next to Bree's Lucky Charms, and Grace's generic granola. A muttered thanks followed.

  "Any luck with the new roommate?" Their last one had lasted about four months, before hurricane season arrived, then chickened out and moved back inland.

  "Ugh. You would not believe the freaks that have answered that ad." Nicole was in charge of interviewing prospective girls to live with them, as she was the prickliest of the women. None of the current applicants had made it past the telephone interview process, and Grace didn't want to know what kinds of questions Nicole was asking to weed them out.

  "I'm going to go shower and then read. Brad's coming over, later." Grace turned to go down the hall to the bathroom.

  "Pretty boy's not all there, Grace."

  "I know, but he's nice, so leave him alone, Nic." A grunt was her reply.

  After her shower, Grace pulled on a pair of gym shorts with a tank top, and lay down on her bed with a new book about sunken ships. She was fascinated with man's arrogance concerning the oceans. It was why she was working on her degree in Marine Science, a liberal arts degree in humanities. She wanted to be an anthropologist, studying shipwrecks and tragedies on the water, humankind's superiority over the elements. Living in Galveston was ideal for her studies, as the Great Storm of 1909 was the perfect example of overconfidence in man's ability to overcome impending disaster.

  A light rap at the door preceded Brad's head poking around. "You decent?" Seeing her dressed and reading on the bed, he shook his head. "Damn." He sauntered into the room holding up a bag of takeout from Casey's, filled with fried seafood, no doubt.

  Grace laughed at his obvious disappointment, and scooted over on her bed to make room for him and the food. Digging out some plastic utensils and napkins, Brad laid out to-go boxes of fried fish and shrimp with hushpuppies and French fries.

  "Did you get cole slaw?" Grace enquired.

  "Of course. I know you have to have a veggie with everything."

  "Not that cabbage coated in mayonnaise counts…" Grace grumbled, even though she was appreciative of the thought. She smiled at Brad, and was rewarded with an eager grin.

  "Grace, I'm sorry about today," he said through a mouthful of shrimp. "Are you okay?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, just drained. You know how it is."

  "Yeah." Working the beaches, they had all had saves, some worse than others. Brad hadn't had any "bad" ones, but he hadn't lost anyone, either. "You thinking about Alex?"

  "I always do, after a day like this. I can't help it." Suddenly, her appetite diminished, and she wiped her mouth, pushing the Styrofoam container away.

  "You did the best you could with him, Grace. You know that, right?"

  "Yeah, I know. I don't really want to talk about it."

  "It's good to get it out there, you know." Brad was trying to be helpful, but he didn't know her when she'd lost Alex, the little boy who'd been swept out with the rip tide. He hadn't heard the mother's frantic screams, the hush of the beach. He hadn't seen her use everything within her to try to save the child, whose life had been ripped from this world in a heartbeat.

  When she didn't answer, he put away the boxes of food, setting them carefully on the desk next to her bed, and sat behind her to rub her shoulders.

  "Lay down, Grace. Let me make you feel better."

  Knowing that the mood she was in, his ministrations would only make her feel worse, she begrudgingly scooted down on the bed and let him rub her back. His backrubs were his idea of foreplay, and she wasn't really in the mood for sex right now. But she also knew that sex was Brad's idea of making her feel better, and he was trying to be helpful.

  He ran his hands ineffectively up and down her back, under her shirt, releasing the clasp of her bra. She let loose a sigh of resignation, which Brad read as encouragement to continue, so he pulled her shorts down gently and began to rub her backside, groaning to himself. Grace knew he was turning himself on more than her, but she went along with it, rolling herself over and pulling off her tank top. The desire in his eyes was evident, and he eagerly stripped his own clothes off before laying down on top of her.

  His hands caressed her body, preparing her like the considerate lover he was. He kissed her, sweeping his tongue across her lips to open them up, before delving inside to taste her. He groaned again, as he entered her slowly.

  Brad's
lovemaking had definitely gotten better since their first time. Neither one of them had much experience before they started dating. They weren't virgins, but they weren't super-practiced at it either. They had learned a lot about what the other person enjoyed, although Grace had yet to experience an orgasm from intercourse with Brad. But she'd gotten better at faking them. His disappointment at not pleasing her was all too obvious and a little painful to watch.

  He nibbled on her ear and neck, as he slowly thrust in and out of her, mumbling about how good she felt. His hot breaths were loud in her ear, pulling her out of the moment. She couldn't focus on the sensations of his body inside hers, all she could focus on was his ragged breathing in her ear.

  "Oh god, baby…Are you close? I'm so close…"

  "Oh…yes." That was her cue to squeeze her eyes shut, bite her lip, and let out a high pitched groan, while simultaneously clenching every muscle she had from the waist down, before going completely limp. He pumped away furiously, picking up his pace, thrusting with abandon, before letting out a guttural moan and collapsing on top of her.

  Turning her, so that she was cradled in his arms, he snuggled his face in her hair. "You are amazing, baby." His breaths evened out, and he was dozing contentedly in no time.

  Grace got up and pulled her shorts and tank top back on, before going out into the living room with the rest of the food. Nicole and Bree were both there, watching a movie turned up loudly. Bree smiled at her, when she came into the room, while Nicole snickered into the back of her hand.

  "You get lover boy satisfied?" Nicole taunted.

  Throwing herself onto the couch between them, she shrugged. "I guess." Opening up her Styrofoam container, she pulled out a hushpuppy and bit into it.

  "It sounded good." Bree added, as they watched the movie.

  Finally, Grace said, "You guys can turn the volume down, now. We're done. Don't want to wake him up."