Making the Play (11 page)

Her gaze met his again and he could read the hesitation in her stance. To her credit, she walked forward, albeit slowly, and ran a hand over the pony's neck. The old gelding turned his head to look at her and dropped his neck, waiting for her to rub his forehead. It was enough to win her over. She ran a hand over his face.

“Okay, little man, you do whatever Grant says, okay?” James nodded, excitement gleaming bright in his blue eyes as she settled him into the saddle. Grant moved to her side and slid James' feet into the stirrups of the child-­sized saddle and put the reins into the boy's hands.

“Hold the reins right here, just like this, and keep your feet right here.”

Grant instructed him on how to steer the pony although he wouldn't really be directing him with Grant holding the lead rope. He knew how important it was to let James think he was doing it himself. When he felt like James was comfortable and settled in the saddle, Jackson came and held Shorty's rope. Grant's hand slid to Bethany's back and he felt the tension in her ramrod-­straight spine.

“Come here, Bethany, so you can meet Ginger.”

He guided her around the hitching post to where his brother had tied her mount. He slid the bridle over the mare's head and moved the reins over her neck before taking a step closer to the woman fairly trembling with worry. He slid his hand to Bethany's upper arm, trying to allay her fears. Electricity shot through him but he ignored it as he moved his hand to her waist.

“You ready to mount up?”

She put one foot into the stirrup. “Hold on here, right?” Her voice was shaky as she reached for the saddle horn. He could see she was trying to cast her fears aside and trust him.

“Yep. Now push off and swing your leg over carefully.” With his hands around her waist, he helped her into the saddle, the way she had James. As she settled herself into the seat and slid her other foot into the stirrup, his hand ran down her thigh. “There you go.”

Bethany glanced down at him from atop her mount and he saw the look in her eyes. It was a mixture of trepidation and excitement, fear and yearning. His fingers burned where they connected with her denim-­encased leg, and desire coiled in his gut, making his jeans suddenly uncomfortable. This wasn't like him, to feel this pull, the yearning for more that he felt with her and James.

He was the guy who hyperfocused on the task at hand and refused to even look away from his goals. And right now, his goal was still returning to his career, of proving himself and rebuilding the fortune he'd been forced to part with this past year. But Bethany had him rethinking his purpose completely. Grant had to get at least a modicum of control over his lust for this woman or he needed to leave her alone altogether.

He pulled his hand away from her leg and made his way to his gelding. “We'll head out first and meet you at the pond in a little while, Jackson.”

His brother handed him Shorty's lead rope and gave him a thumbs-­up, indicating his agreement. With their horses walking slower, there was no reason to wait for the rest of the family. They'd catch up and, most likely, pass them on the way to the pond. But he didn't want Bethany or James to feel pressured to keep up the faster pace his family would set. He preferred they feel comfortable and enjoy their first time in the saddle.

Grant looked down at James on the pony, his eyes sparkling with excitement and adventure, a broad smile covering his face. The kid actually had a relaxed seat, something that couldn't really be taught, and Grant felt his respect for the boy rise in him as James lightly held the reins in his hands. He was a natural. He looked over at Bethany.

He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. She was having a bit more trouble. She had a death-­grip on the reins like she was holding a baseball bat and was pulling back on them in order to keep both hands wrapped around the saddle horn. The movement made the mare back up, even while Bethany pressed her heels against the poor animal's side, indicating she wanted her to move forward. Confused, the mare tossed her head several times.

“Bethany, loosen your reins.”

“What?” Where James' eyes were wide with excitement, Bethany's were fearful. “I can't.”

“Honey, you need to relax. Pry your hands off that saddle horn. It's not going to help at all. You're not going to fall off. Just move your hands onto her neck.”

She did as he said and the mare quit tugging against the reins.

“Now, press your heels down like you're trying to touch the ground with them.” Her legs immediately dropped forward, away from the mare's sides and she began walking forward. “There you go, see?”

“I think I hate you a little for this, Grant,” she muttered.

If she hated him for the ride, he was going to be in real trouble when the soreness set into her backside and inner thighs tomorrow, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to give her any more ammunition.

“You should bring Ginger to the other side and see James' face. That will be enough to make you fall in love with me.”

Her gaze met his and he realized what he'd just said.

Crap.

It wasn't what he'd meant. Well, it was, but not that way and now there was nothing he could say that would make it sound better so he chose to gloss over the comment.

“If he's this good at riding, I can't wait to see him cast a fishing pole.”

With only a little trouble, she managed to move the mare to the other side of James and, seeing his smile, she began to relax in the saddle. “See, what did I tell you?”

Her gaze met his across the horses, the green flecks in her hazel eyes dancing with joy. He could see the relief that filled her. “I hate to admit it but you were right.”

“Get used to it, Bethany.” He shot her a wink as his lips curved into a lopsided smile. “I usually am.”

 

Chapter Eleven

B
ETHANY WATCHED AS
Madison, Jefferson and Jackson made s'mores around the fire pit. Madison waited for one to cool off before passing it to James, who was tucked snugly in between Grant's brothers, his new cowboy heroes. Andrew and Benjamin had arrived just in time for dinner and now leaned back in their chairs on the other side of the fire, finishing off two bottles of their favorite beer, something Andrew claimed to have brewed in the barn. Bethany glanced at Grant before she took a tentative sip, her eyes rounding in surprise at the sweet peach flavor.

“Your brother made this?”

Grant chuckled. “Yeah, it's a hobby. He's got this whole setup in one of Dad's stalls. Dad was so mad when he saw one of his foaling stalls turned into a brewery, but when he realized how much it helped Andrew blow off steam after a rough shift, he let him keep it.”

“It's really good.” She took a long swallow, savoring the sweet, yeasty flavor.

“So, you have Andrew, Madison, Jefferson, Jackson, Grant and Benjamin. Do I detect a theme?”

Grant chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Dad was a huge history buff and thought it would be a good idea to name all his kids after significant historical figures.”

“At least he picked names that weren't too off the wall. You could have been Woodrow.” She tried to bite back the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when he glared at her.

“Thank goodness for Mom. He'd actually chosen Roosevelt and she put her foot down.”

“You mean you could have been Rosie?” She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled forth and when he glared at her, she laughed even harder.

It felt good, she realized. For the first time since arriving in Hidden Falls she didn't feel like an outsider. She felt welcome and like she was part of a unit instead of someone trying to fit in. Grant had no idea how grateful she was for all he'd done for them in just a few days.

“Thank you for today. James has had a great time.”

Grant leaned his head against the back of the chair and peered up in the sky filled with winking stars. “Just James?”

His head turned slowly to face her. She couldn't make out most of his features, especially with the way they were shadowed from the firelight several feet away, but his eyes practically glowed.

She looked away, straight ahead, where James sat with the twins. “I had a good time too.”

Grant chuckled quietly. “We should do it again. I think Mom and Dad liked having you guys here. Mom's been on our cases for years to have grandkids so I think she's getting ideas. Maybe if James was around, she'd lay off.”

“You think it'd be that simple?” Bethany watched as Sarah kissed each of the twins on their cheeks before hugging James from behind. She reminded Bethany of her own mother and a pang of homesickness washed over her.

“Nope,” Grant said with a chuckle. “Mom wants to see us kids settle down, have families of our own. Until that happens, we're going to have to listen to the nagging.”

Bethany frowned. “Guess she's not much different than the rest of the town, wanting to see their hometown hero settle down.”

He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh. “I usually just ignore it, but then again, I don't live here all of the time. It'll happen when the time is right, but that won't be until after I retire and I hope that's not anytime soon.”

She caught an edge to his voice and the way his answer almost seemed rehearsed and wondered at it.

“Have you thought about who you might want to ask out?” Grant's question caught her off guard.

“
I
can't ask anyone out.” Her voice pitched higher, squeaking out the last word.

“Why not? It's not like you'd actually have to ask anyway. All you'd have to do is turn those doe eyes of yours at a guy and he'd be on his knees begging you for a date.”

“Hardly.” She took another swallow of the beer, wishing it would give her the bravado to tell him that he was the only guy she had any interest in.

“Any guy would be lucky to go out with you, Bethany.” She could almost feel his glowing eyes caress her in the moonlight. “I know for a fact there are a ­couple of guys who'd give their right arm to go out with you sitting over there.” He waved a hand at Andrew and Benjamin. “Didn't Ben already ask?”

“Are you seriously suggesting I ask your brother out?”

Because that might take the definition of
awkward
to a whole new level.

She bit the corner of her lower lip and a frown furrowed his brow as Grant studied her. “What about someone from work?”

He looked back at the sky, but she could see the side of his playboy grin. He wasn't even bothering to hide it. “There has to be some guy who has made your insides all tingly and fluttery.”

Yeah, you.

She shrugged. “Steven asked me out for coffee the other day.”

“Who's this Steven guy? And what are you waiting for?”

“He's the other kindergarten teacher, and I already told him no.” She finished off the beer, running her thumb over the dried glue where the label had once been, trying to avoid looking in his direction.

“Why?” Grant turned to face her again, but instead of his usual boyish humor, he looked entirely too serious. “Bethany, how long were you with James' father?”

“We were married for two years, but we dated for three before that.”

She waited for him to ask what happened, to pry into the life that was her past, the one that barely seemed real anymore. She looked back at her son laughing with Jefferson, leaning close as they shared a joke. He'd blossomed today, been adventurous, living out boyish fantasies that she could have never given him without the help of Grant and his family. Today her son had been able to fully live, something she now realized she'd been keeping him from doing for too long.

Maybe he hadn't been the only one not living.

“And how long have you been without him?”

Grant's question caught her by surprise. She'd been preparing to give him her usual vague answer about the demise of her marriage, but he didn't seem to want to know
what
happened, he was asking about her and James. He didn't know any details other than the fact that Matthew wasn't in James' life. For all Grant knew, her husband had died.

In a way, he had. So had she. Their fantasy life, the tie that had once bound them, the ideal of family life they'd had when they married right out of high school had come crashing down around them with James' diagnosis. Matthew hadn't been able to cope.

“Almost six years,” she whispered.

She heard Grant's slow exhale, saw his head drop back on his chair as he closed his eyes. “Six years is a long time to be alone, Bethany.” She could hear the empathy in his voice. Grant turned toward her and a slow, sweet smile spread over his lips. “Don't you think it's time you shared James a little?”

This wasn't the direction she expected this conversation to take. “Shared . . . James?”

“I told you before—­he's a great kid and you've been keeping him all to yourself.” He sat up and braced his elbows on his knees, folding his hands and letting them drop between his thighs. “I think it's time you let someone else hang out with James for a while. Go out to the movies or something. Tomorrow, I'm going to be the friend you need. I'll come over to babysit James while you go out with Mr. Sexy Kindergarten Teacher.”

“I never said—­”

Grant held up a hand, cutting off her argument. “No need to thank me. Just call this man in the morning and ask him out to lunch and a movie. If it turns into dinner, even better.”

“Grant, I don't—­”

He stood and reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet. She tried to ignore the slow spiral of heat that curled through her limbs at his touch. Maybe he was right. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it was time for her to date someone again.

She looked over at her son, leaning sleepily against Madison's side, enjoying the attention of so many adults. She'd spent so long being independent, allowing no one but her family close enough to either of them, and here was a group of ­people she barely knew, opening their home to her and her son, filling the void she hadn't realized had been growing larger every year of their solitude.

“I would,” she agreed, “but I don't have his number.”

“This is a small town, Bethany. It can't be that hard to track it down.”

G
RANT KNOCKED ON
Bethany's door and wondered for the umpteenth time if he wasn't making a huge mistake by convincing Bethany to go out with someone else. It was like finding a million dollars and just handing it to a stranger. But the fact was, she wasn't
his
million dollars. As much as he might want her to be, he wasn't at a point in his career, or his life, where he could stop to focus on having a family. The painful realization had dogged him during his morning workout, helping propel him to his fastest sprint times since he'd arrived back home.

Just the thought of her sitting in a darkened movie theater with another man, his arm draped around her, on a date Grant wanted to be on infuriated him enough for him to increase his bench press max to what it had been a few years ago. Before the injuries. Before the commentators started talking about how he was getting too old. Before there was talk of retiring from the only thing that made his life worth living.

As much as he might want to pursue a relationship with Bethany, and suspected she would be the woman he'd been holding out for, he knew he couldn't give her what she needed, what she deserved. At least, not right now.

You still didn't have to encourage her to find someone else.

No, he didn't and, if he'd listened to his instincts, he'd have kept his mouth shut. But he cared about Bethany and James. Too much to see either miss out on an opportunity at happiness. His desire to see her move beyond the hurt that shadowed her eyes when she talked about her past was too strong. He wanted her to learn to trust again, which meant doing what was best for her and being a real friend, even if it meant losing his chance.

Bethany answered the door, flustered, with her cheeks flushed. She looked young and pretty with her dark hair flowing softly around her face, draping over her shoulders. It was the first time he'd seen it down and he could barely help the urge to run his fingers through it. He clenched his hands at his sides.

“Come on in,” she said on an exasperated sigh. “James, I'm not going to argue about this,” she called over her shoulder.

“Uh-­oh.” Grant handed her the tall to-­go cup of coffee he'd picked up on the way.

He'd had no idea if it was something she'd like but figured most women wouldn't turn down a white chocolate mocha. And from the sound of the fit being thrown in the next room, she needed a sweet start to her morning.

“Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“He's mad that I won't take him to the park this morning.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Maybe we should just call this off. I really don't know Steven's number—­he could say no or have other plans . . .”

Grant tipped his chin down, pinning her with a dubious look. “This sound like a job I can handle. First, here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, holding it out to her.

“What's this?”

“The phone number for one Steven Carter, kindergarten teacher and lover of action flicks, Italian food and strong cappuccinos.”

“What?”

Grant didn't even want to venture a guess at why her full lips slid into a broad grin or entertain the idea that she might be excited for this possible lunch date. He was too busy inwardly cringing, like he'd just taken a helmet to the groin.

“Madison?” she asked.

Grant shrugged. “I guess they went out a ­couple of times but there weren't any sparks.” He made air quotes over the last two words. “She said he is a nice guy though.”

Bethany closed her eyes and covered her face with a hand. “You told Madison.” She shook her head and he saw the blush creep over her cheeks. “Grant, you're a terrible wingman.”

“I told her I needed to coordinate an assembly with both of you for next week.”

“And you found out what sort of movies and food he likes from that?”

Grant laughed out loud. “Have you met my sister? It wasn't hard. She will tell you her life story if you ask how old she is. That girl loves to talk.” He slid the door shut and headed for the screeching child he could hear in the next room. “And this will be a piece of cake.”

Bethany stopped at the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. “Have at it.”

“James, I can't take you out to play football if you're making so much noise.”

The temper tantrum instantly stopped and James spun toward the sound of Grant's voice, jumping to his feet. “Grant!”

He squatted down as James ran into his arms and he swung him into the air. “Yep, we get to have another guys' day, this time without your mom.”

James little blond brows instantly pinched together in a frown. “Why?”

“Well, because your mom is going to meet a friend for lunch today, so we get to hang out together and do guy stuff.”

James looked from Grant to his mother and back. “But why can't she do guy stuff with us?”

Grant leaned close, as if he was about to tell James a secret. “Because sometimes moms need time to do things that make them feel special. It's been a long time since your mom got to feel special and spend time with a friend. When you don't get to be with your friends, doesn't it make you feel lonely and a little sad?”

“Grant, don't guilt-­trip him.”

James pursed his lips and looked toward the ceiling.
Damn, this kid is adorable.