Making the Play (12 page)

“Like when I have play alone at recess?”

Grant's gaze met Bethany's before focusing on the boy again. “Exactly like that. This way, your mom will get to spend some time with her friend and you can spend time with me.”

“Because you're
my
friend,” James finished.

“Right.” Grant leaned his forehead against James'. “I think you're a lot smarter than ­people give you credit for, little man.”

James nodded vigorously. “I am,” he agreed.

Grant laughed before meeting Bethany's gaze. She was biting the corner of her lip again, which meant this conversation hadn't turned out the way she'd expected and he began to wonder if she wasn't using James as an excuse to remain reclusive and protect herself as well.

“Go make your phone call and get ready, Bethany. We're going to go play ball and then have a snack.”

Grant didn't miss the hesitation in her eyes, the apprehension that slumped her shoulders before she lifted her chin and stood straighter, taking a deep breath. “Okay, you two have fun.”

She pointed at James, giving him a stern look and trying not to smile when James grinned back at her. “No conning Grant into cookies for you until after lunch.”

B
ETHANY TOOK ONE
final look in the mirror that ran down the back of her bedroom door. Smoothing her long hair back over her shoulder, she considered pulling it into her usual ponytail.

“No, you're making a few changes, starting today,” she scolded her reflection as she adjusted the elastic waistband of her favorite peasant shirt. It showed just a sliver of skin between the hem and her jeans and she wondered again if she could be courageous enough to wear a miniskirt.

Better just wear the jeans. Small changes were one thing, but she wasn't feeling confident enough to completely cast all caution to the wind on her first foray into dating in almost eleven years. Steven had been more than a little surprised when she'd called.

He probably thought you were some sort of stalker since he never gave you his number.

She brushed the thought aside. He'd sounded thrilled once she told him Madison had passed along his number. And, sure enough, he'd suggested they have lunch at Rosetti's before going to see some action movie he said he'd been waiting for months to come out. She couldn't even remember the name of the film but it didn't really matter. She was taking the first step. She was actually taking two: going on a date
and
trusting someone other than her parents with her son.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and realized Steven would arrive in ten minutes. Hurrying down the stairs as quickly as her wedge sandals would allow, Bethany headed into the kitchen in search of Grant and James, wanting to make sure Grant knew how to buckle the car seat and how James liked his sandwich cut.

A low whistle stopped her in her tracks. “Wow, you look incredible.”

She turned and saw the pair coming in from the backyard. James' hair was damp on his forehead from the exertion of playing ball with Grant. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt, self-­consciously.

“We're supposed to go to Rosetti's. It looks . . . okay?”

Grant moved toward her and she felt her stomach begin the delicious flips it seemed to do whenever he was near. Pausing, he opened the cupboard and retrieved a plastic cup, filling it with water for James before handing it to him. “You look better than okay.”

“You look pretty, Mommy.”

Grant cocked his head to one side and smiled. “He's right, you look beautiful. I like your hair down. It suits you.”

The compliment shouldn't have sent her stomach tumbling to her toes, nor should she have felt the sizzle of heat zing through her, especially when she was about to go on a date with another man. She
shouldn't
have, but she did, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she moved toward James to kiss the top of his head.

“Poor Steven isn't going to be able to keep his hands to himself.” Grant chuckled as his gaze swept over her, warming her insides. The chime from the doorbell interrupted anything else Grant might have said and he arched a brow, giving her a cocky grin. “I'll get it.”

“No, you can stay with James. I'll get it.” She moved toward the front door, aware of James and Grant edging into the entry hall so they could spy on her as she opened the door. “Steven, you're right on time.” She opened the door wider so he could enter.

“I was so surprised by your invitation after you said no to coffee, I wasn't about to have a strike against me for being late.” He looked up and saw the pair in the doorway. “Oh! I didn't realize you had company.” He looked back at her, confusion written on his brow.

“Grant has offered to stay with James today.”

“Hi, Mr. Carter.” James waved, smiling brightly, and Bethany felt her heart swell. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. “Sorry you have to make Mom feel special today instead of doing guy stuff with us.”

Bethany felt the blush rise up from her toes, heating her face, and she wanted to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment. Grant tried unsuccessfully to hide his amusement as James reached up and took his hand, but Steven laughed out loud.

“As much fun as it might be to do stuff with you guys today, James, I'm actually looking forward to spending some time with your mom. I get to see you at school for several hours a day. I hardly ever get to talk to her.”

Steven turned his gaze toward her, his eyes skimming over her and coming back to rest on her face. It might have been a while since she last dated, but she still knew how to read attraction in a man's eyes when she saw it and begged her body for some sort of tingly response. Sadly, it didn't seem inclined to cooperate.

James nodded seriously. “Except for recess.”

Both men laughed this time. “Yep, except for recess,” Steven agreed, turning back to her. “Are you ready? I have them holding a table for us.”

She nodded. “Let me just grab my purse.” She hurried into the kitchen as Grant followed her. “You remember how to buckle in the car seat, right?”

“Yes, and I know your rules: no soda, two cookies—­but only
after
lunch—­and no naked women.” Bethany glared at him but Grant laughed. “Just wanted to see if you were really listening.”

“Thank you, Grant. My cell number is by the phone and I'll call the house when the movie is over, okay?”

“Go, have a good time and don't worry about us. We'll be too busy having fun to miss you.”

Oddly enough, that was exactly what she was afraid of.

 

Chapter Twelve

G
RANT STARED AT
the kid bouncing energetically beside him and wondered what he was supposed to do now. It was one thing to play ball and take him riding while Bethany was there to let him know if he was straying from James' interests. Thanks to his own not-­so-­bright idea, he was completely on his own for the next several hours. At the very least.

Grant looked at his watch. It was almost eleven. “Are you hungry? I'm thinking we should eat something.” James nodded and Grant made his way to the refrigerator, peering inside and finding sliced turkey and ham as well as a few hot dogs. “Well, which do you feel like, little man?”

“Mom makes me peanut butter and jelly.” James looked up at Grant expectantly.

“Is that what you want? I think I can manage to make a PB&J sandwich.” James shook his head and signed
no
. “Then what would you like?”

A broad smile split the boy's face as he peered through his lashes at Grant and he knew this kid was going to hustle him.
Hamburger and fries
, he signed.

Grant arched a brow at James before grinning. “I like the way you think, kid. Burgers and fries it is.”

It only took a minute to buckle James into his car seat before the engine of Grant's Camaro rumbled and they were on their way to an old-­time drive-­in. It had always been one of Grant's favorite burger places in town. At least, that's what he'd tell anyone who asked. The real reason he'd gone out of his way for it today was because it was directly across from Rosetti's and he had a clear view into the front of the restaurant.

He wasn't spying. At least, not exactly. He was just making sure things went well for Bethany.

Who are you kidding?

A big part of him had wanted to punch Mr. Kindergarten Teacher in the face for not telling Bethany how beautiful she'd looked the minute he got through the door. Because she had.

He'd never seen her look more gorgeous. Her eyes sparkled with renewed vigor and, with just a little eye makeup to accent the various colors reflecting within them, she'd fairly glowed with radiance. He'd loved seeing her let her hair down, both literally and figuratively. Speaking of figures, he wished he could fathom how any woman could look that damn sexy in a pair of jeans and a flouncy top but seeing that small strip of her stomach bared just before she pulled down the bottom of her shirt had sent his blood pounding hotly through his veins, pooling in areas well below his waistband.

Grant ordered the burgers and fries, paired with milkshakes he was pretty sure Bethany wouldn't have approved of, and carried the food to his car. He must have it bad if he was willing to take a chance with a six-­year-­old kid eating in his baby just so he could keep an eye on the restaurant across the street, praying for a glimpse of a woman on a date with someone else. He might try to tell himself it was to make sure this guy treated her right, or that he was hoping to catch a glimpse of the photographer who'd been stalking him in order to point him in a different direction, but the truth was, he wanted to see if she was enjoying herself.

Did she give him the same smile she'd given Grant before she left for her date? Did her eyes glimmer with the same look of yearning that he saw when she looked at him?

He watched the front window of the restaurant as James dug into the bag of fries. “Thank you for lunch, Grant.”

A half-­smile slipped to his lips.
Damn he liked this kid.

You're welcome
, he signed back.

His cell phone rang just as Bethany came into view, a waiter seating them near the front window. He glanced at the number on his phone screen and saw it was the owner of the Memphis Mustangs, Randall Wolf. He had to take the call—­there was no other option, so he looked at James with a finger to his lips, indicating he stay quiet.

“Mr. Wolf, it's good to hear from you, sir.”

Grant felt his heart stop as he waited to see why the owner of his team, the man who had the final say on the direction of his career with the Mustangs, would be calling instead of the team's general manager. It didn't bode well.

“I should have called you sooner, Grant, but I wanted to give you some time to . . . get your priorities in order. Have you spoken with your doctors?”

“I have and I have another appointment scheduled for next week. I should be able to let you know their final recommendation then. But I feel great and my workouts are better than ever,” he added quickly.

Grant heard the owner's sigh through the receiver. “Let's cut the B.S., Grant. You know I like you, I always have, but do you really think you're going to be able to come back this season at a hundred percent?”

“Sir—­”

“You have two more years left on your contract with a buyout option. I was there when the doctor warned you about your neck and the dangers if you come back to play.” The man sighed into the phone again. “I think it's time to accept that your playing days are over.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Wolf, I disagree.”

Even as he spoke to his employer, Grant stared at the woman across from him, admiring the tilt of her chin as she listened to her date, the way the sunlight played over her hair, the way her smile seemed to make even this conversation bearable.

The man on the other end of the line chuckled softly. “Damn if you aren't the most stubborn player I've ever had on my team. That's one of the things that's made you so good.” There was a long pause as Grant waited for his boss to say more. “Grant, I'm trying to tell you that we're going to offer to buy out your contract. I understand that you're willing to take the risk for the team, but you're too much of a liability now. We have to focus at what's going to help the team this year and I just don't think it's you. I'm sorry.”

It was obvious that Wolf wasn't just calling to offer a contract buyout or he would have gone directly to Grant's agent. Grant was impatient for the owner to get to the point of the call.

“I want to offer you a position on the Mustangs staff. You'd work closely with the offensive coordinator and move into a coaching position the following season.” Grant opened his mouth to protest but the man caught him before he could utter more than a grunt of protest. “I know, you don't think it's time to retire, but you've been mentoring the rookies for years now and I think this is a place on the team where you could continue indefinitely and be a huge asset.”

Grant took a deep breath, trying to control the rage threatening to erupt from within. With James in the car and no outlet for his fury, he clenched his jaw, hard enough that he heard it pop.

“We'll buy out the remainder of your contract and you'll be offered a generous salary. Think about it before you turn me down, Grant. This is a onetime offer. I just wanted to talk to you about it before I sent the details over to your agent. We'll give you a few days to think about your answer.”

Taking another deep breath, Grant closed his eyes, pinching the space at the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, sir. We'll be in touch.”

With his head pounding, Grant wanted to throw something and when he looked across the street, seeing Bethany smiling brightly at the man across from her, laughing at some brilliant comment, no doubt, it only made the fury roil in his gut. He tossed the bag with the uneaten burger into the front seat, losing any appetite he might have had.

Why couldn't he have gotten this phone call yesterday, before he convinced her to go out with this guy? How had his future managed to go from favorable to fucked up over burgers and fries?

G
RANT LEANE
D AGAINST
the back of the couch, his eyes closing as he tried to relax in the semi-­darkened room. It was only early evening, but he was beat emotionally. He'd turned on some movie for James about a boy and his pet dragon, but the kid had been so exhausted from playing ball again after they'd returned from lunch, he'd fallen asleep only a few minutes after the opening song and Grant hadn't even bothered to wake him for dinner. He'd simply carried James up to his bed and, unsure how to remove the implant microphones, left them on for Bethany to remove when she arrived home in a few minutes. She'd already called and told him she was on her way back from the movies.

As if the thought conjured her from thin air, Grant heard the front door close and the soft
clomp
of her shoes on the tile floor as she made her way into the living room. He cracked one eye open just enough to see her bend over and take off her shoes, kicking them to the side, before padding over the carpet to the couch to peer down at him. She bent over, not realizing the view she gave him as her blouse fell forward. His mouth dried up and he tried to force himself to look away from the delicate curve of the top of her breast and the barely-­there decorative trim at the edge of her bra.

“Grant,” she whispered as she reached for his arm, shaking him slightly.

He opened one eye and smiled, tugging her down onto the couch cushions beside him. “I'm awake, but that boy tired me out. I don't know how you do it every single day.”

“He can be a handful sometimes.” She laughed softly.

Grant slid his arm around the back of the couch and fought back a groan when she dropped her head against his shoulder. There was nothing inherently intimate about the gesture but the fact that it seemed so natural made him want to pull her closer against his chest and he forced himself to stifle the urge.

“So, how was the date?” He tipped his face toward her but it only resulted in the sweet scent of her perfume filling his lungs. It was like sunshine and honey, warm and sweet. Without realizing it, his fingers slid over her shoulder, caressing the curve of her neck.

“It was . . . nice.”

“Honey, guys don't want to hear a woman say a date was nice.” He gave a quiet chuckle. “That's a sure sign you're being friend-­zoned if there ever was one.”

He could feel her smile against his shoulder, even through his cotton shirt, but she didn't look up at him. “I'll have to keep that in mind for the next time. It
has
been a while since I did this. I think I've almost forgotten how.”

“It's like riding a bike. As soon as you start, it will all come back to you. The coy glances, the flirty smiles. I've seen them from you so I know you know how.” Heat pooled in his groin and he fought the urge to lay his cheek against the top of her head. It was too comfortable with Bethany; it felt too right.

She pulled away and looked up at him. “I have not.”

“The hell you haven't.” Grant laughed deep in his chest. “But I'll just chalk it up to you being out of practice and its being an accident.” He pulled her close again, hating the emptiness he felt when she'd sat up and cursing the circumstances that kept him from pursuing what he knew they'd both regret later. “So, are you guys going out again?”

She tipped her face toward him, her hand resting against his chest, and batted her lashes sweetly. “That depends on if I can get a sitter again.”

“See, there you go.” He shook his head, berating her gently with a laugh. “Don't tell me you don't know how to flirt,” he teased.

Longing kicked him in the groin. It took every ounce of self-­control he had to keep from kissing her. Even if she was joking, the pout on her lips and the tenderness he saw in her eyes was enough to make him forget. Forget football, forget leaving, forget what he needed. He wanted to cup her face, to run his thumb over that lower lip she bit so often and taste the sweetness he knew he would find in her mouth. If he waited even a moment longer, his willpower would cave and they wouldn't be able to find their way back to this place. He needed to leave before he made a mistake he couldn't undo.

He rose from the couch, causing her to flop back against the cushions. “I wasn't sure how to take James' implants off so you should probably do that. He's already in bed asleep.”

She frowned, looking hurt and confused. “Um, okay.”

Rising from the couch, she ran her hands over her thighs and trotted up the stairs. He could hear her footsteps, lightly padding overhead, before moving back down the hall. Grant knew he was a fool, knew he wanted this woman like he'd never wanted another. He'd known from the first night at the pizza place she was trouble, but he'd thought then that it was because she was a pretty, smart-­mouthed, feisty small-­town girl. Now that he'd gotten to know her, he realized it was because she'd given him a glimpse of what he wanted his future to hold, not just the idea of a family, but the very woman and child he wanted to call his own.

With one phone call from the owner of the Mustangs, his plans to return to football had been derailed. He wasn't sure it even mattered any longer what the doctor might tell him next week because it sounded like Mr. Wolf had already made up his mind, which meant trying to negotiate a new contract with a new team, leaving his future even more up in the air. Frustration welled up in him. He'd risked everything to return to football, been willing to sacrifice everything. All of the time he'd spent training was wasted unless he was playing. There were so many things he'd given up over the years that he could never get back.

The realization made him think about the woman upstairs and wonder if this wasn't a second chance with her. He'd been a fool to tell her to date someone else when every part of his body was begging him to reach out to her, to touch her, to let her know exactly what he was feeling. He'd offered her friendship from the beginning, but deep down he'd known from the first that friendship would never be enough with Bethany. Even now, in his frustration about his future, he felt a small measure of relief. If he didn't go back, he would be free to stay and offer her more. He might be nothing more than a washed-­up player, but he'd give her whatever she might want from him.