Making the Play (9 page)

It didn't matter how many years he'd been at college or how long he'd lived in Memphis, to his mother, all of her kids would always remain children and she adored them. It was only slightly aggravating.

“Sit, Mom, and have some breakfast.” Grant pulled her hand so she slid into the chair beside him as his father moved to the other side and set his plate on the table.

“Isn't that your car?” Travis McQuaid didn't miss much. He slid the newspaper closer, inspecting the caption. “Grant?”

“Yes, Dad, it is, but nothing happened.”

His father's brow tilted upward in disbelief before giving Grant a stern look. “Is she nice?”

Grant inhaled slowly. Nice didn't begin to encompass all that Bethany was. Incredible, extraordinary, stunning. Those were good places to start.

But he knew what his father meant. He wanted to know if Bethany was like the usual team groupies, like the “cleat chasers” his father had seen hanging around the locker room in Memphis or stalking him like she-­wolves here at home.

“Yeah, she's nice.”

His mother looked more interested and he could see the visions of grandchildren already floating through her mind. “Is this the woman you were talking about before?”

“There is nothing going on. I fixed a broken toilet and then we watched a movie with her kid.”

His mother grinned but his father simply tipped his chin down and looked at him somberly. “Then don't let this happen, son.” He tapped his finger against the paper. “You plan on leaving before next month but she's got to live in this small town with whatever reputation she gets. Don't be the cause of something she can't live down.”

Grant stared at the picture on the front page that clearly showed his car parked in front of Bethany's home. It was blurry but there was no mistaking the house, not with the bird bath she'd placed in the middle of her front yard. This was the fourth time since arriving that he'd been photographed and, even after his irate call to the paper this morning, it didn't seem likely it would be the last.

As far as he knew, Bethany hadn't seen yesterday's article, practically calling her out as a gold digger and now this one, letting anyone in Hidden Falls find her and James. It was irresponsible sensationalism at its finest and he had to figure out a way to squash it. As long as he was around Bethany and James, ­people were going to talk and that
talk
would lead to plenty of speculation and rumors, if it hadn't already. He couldn't do that to her.

Grant rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw. The problem was, he also wasn't sure he could stay away.

 

Chapter Nine

B
ETHANY RUBBED
HER
eyes as she made her way past James' room. His bed was already made and she could just barely hear the sound of his cartoons coming from the living room. She backed up a step and went into his room to see his implant batteries and microphones still on the charger. Shaking her head, she slipped the equipment into her hand and carried it all downstairs. James always preferred to return to hearing slowly in the mornings, easing himself into waking before putting on the implant microphones that would bombard his world of silence with noise. She had just reached the foot of the stairs, deliberately trying to avoid the memories of last night with Grant that left her weak-­kneed and her insides quivering with hungry anticipation, when there was a knock on her door.

She sighed, letting James enjoy watching his show for a few more moments as she headed for the door, running her fingers through her loose hair. It was barely seven, too early for Grant's arrival, but she'd have to get James to hurry up or they were going to be running behind when he arrived. She pulled open the door to see Grant holding two cups of what she could only assume was coffee, giving her a sheepish grin.

“Grant, you're early.” The last thing she wanted was for James to come tearing around the corner and see him there. She'd never get him to settle down long enough for her to put his earpieces on.

“I come bearing gifts,” he said, holding the coffee aloft.

“Yes, but why?” She glanced back over her shoulder and moved between the door and the frame, so James wouldn't notice if he did come running past.

Grant quirked a questioning brow at her. “I brought breakfast.” She glanced down and saw the bag in his other hand. Was that her paper tucked under his arms? He must have seen her looking. “We need to talk. Can I come in?”

“Grant, if this is about last night—­”

His face fell. “Sort of.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Would it be alright if I moved my car into the garage?”

Bethany's brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

Grant sighed. “Trust me, it's for your own good.”

“I guess.” She shrugged and held the door open for him. “Let me just put these on James.”

“Where are your keys and I'll switch the cars while you do that?”

She arched a brow and looked over her shoulder at him while he followed her. “You can't wait five minutes?” The worry she could read in his eyes was enough of an answer for her. “They are by my purse on the counter, by the refrigerator.”

She tapped James' shoulder, grateful when he didn't spot Grant before he walked back outside to move the cars. Her son's joyful smile was enough to brighten her morning immediately as he took the equipment from her hand and connected it himself. Bethany reached for the remote and turned the television sound lower so that it wouldn't be too much at once for him.

“Morning, Mom.”

She smiled and ruffled his blond hair, feeling her heart swell with love for her son yet again. “Morning, James. I have a surprise for you.” His eyes widened, his show forgotten as he shifted himself away from the television. “Why don't you go into the kitchen and see what's in the bag on the island?” He jumped up and started to run ahead of her. “Hey, no kiss?” He spun on his heels as she squatted down and held her arms out, barreling into her embrace.

She heard the rumble of Grant's car engine and saw James' eyes widen. “Is Grant here?”

It hadn't taken him long to recognize the sound.

She frowned at him. “Yes, and I hear the two of you made plans without asking me yesterday.” He looked down, guiltily staring at his bare feet but not before she saw his grin.

How in the world was she ever going to protect James from being disappointed when Grant left town?

You sure this is about James and not you?

Bethany didn't want to listen to the logical voice of her mother in her mind. She was attempting to protect
both
of them. She heard the garage door closing as she followed James into the kitchen.

Looking into the bag Grant had left on the counter, James' blue eyes widened like saucers and a smile spread across his entire face, making them light up. “Donuts? Can I have two?”

She reached into the cupboard and pulled down a plate, slipping the donuts from the bag and arranging them. “We'll see. Why don't you just start with one and see how many are left?”

“But there are . . .” He paused as he pointed a chubby finger at each one, counting them. “Twelve.”

“Those two are Danish and those two are bagels, honey, but yes, there are twelve. But you aren't the only person who needs to eat, you know.” She glanced up as Grant opened the door into her utility room and saw them. James had his back to him but he spun as soon as he heard the door shut.

“Grant!” Bethany didn't think it was possible for his eyes to get any bigger or his smile to get wider, but somehow he managed it as he threw himself at Grant with even more enthusiasm than he'd shown her. “Are you here for breakfast?”

“I am,” Grant replied, the frown he'd been wearing we he first arrived disappeared as he squatted down and accepted a hug from James.

Bethany had to turn away. This was exactly what she was trying to avoid. After only a few days, James had become attached to Grant. She didn't even want to think about how she was going to break the news to him that Grant would be leaving soon for training camp and not returning. She felt her own heart lurch at the thought and had to admit James wasn't the only one getting attached too quickly.

She reached for the coffee, passing one to Grant when her eyes fell on the paper he'd brought inside. She instantly recognized the front of her house, and unfolded it, quickly scanning the headline.

Most Eligible Bachelor off the Market?

It wouldn't take much for anyone to recognize Grant's car. There weren't many ­people driving classic Camaros around the small town, and showing it parked in front of her house late at night gave the impression he'd stayed for more than just a movie. As much as she dreaded it, Bethany couldn't help but read the article insinuating a local woman had removed Grant McQuaid from the dating pool. It didn't mention her by name, but it wouldn't take much deduction for ­people to realize the house was hers. Between this article and the picture of them at the pizza place the day before, it would be an easy assumption that she was the unnamed woman.

“Crap,” she muttered under her breath.

“Mom, you said a bad word,” James pointed out.

Grant came up behind her and reached for the coffee, one hand on her shoulder. She felt heat spread across her shoulders and down her arm from that one simple touch. “Now you see why I wanted to put the car into the garage. I'm sorry for this, Bethany.”

He tapped the paper and she dropped it onto the counter, moving away from his hand. She reached for a paper towel and grabbed one of the donuts for James, setting it on the table. “Sit and eat, baby.” She reached for a cup from the cupboard, avoiding Grant, and pulled the milk from the refrigerator. “Here you go.”

“Bethany.” His voice was quietly cajoling and she dropped her hands at her sides. “Look at me, please.” She turned to meet his dark gaze, resigned to the fact that she couldn't seem to deny him anything. “I should have realized this would happen. There have been a ­couple stories about me ever since I got home a few weeks ago. I just thought they would figure out I wasn't doing anything headline-­worthy and disappear. I didn't know they followed me here yesterday.”

“Or the pizza place, apparently.”

“So you saw that one too?”

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Look, Grant, I don't blame you. I should have known something like this would happen. You're a professional football player in a small town. Of course, it will set the gossip mill on high alert, but this is exactly why I said no to pizza.” She lowered her voice. “I don't even want to think about what ­people are saying. Anyone can tell that's my house.”

Grant let out a long sigh. “I've been thinking about that. There is one sure way to keep this from blowing up into a local tabloid story.” She looked up at him and his dark eyes begged her to hear him out. “You need to start dating.”

G
RANT HAD TRIED
to convince himself during the entire drive to Bethany's house that there was another way, but the fact was that she was a kindergarten teacher, a single mother of a hearing-­impaired child and new to town. ­People were probably already talking about her but if his name were to suddenly become connected with hers, if they were to become a ­couple, this small-­town newspaper would be the least of Bethany's worries. It was the broader news outlets he worried about—­networks, tabloids and social media. Once the smoke cleared and he went back to the team, she'd be the one left trying to live down a reputation that was undeserved, trying to pick up the pieces of what had once been a normal life. He couldn't do that to her. She was already struggling; he didn't want to make her life more difficult. He liked her and James too much, even after the short amount of time he'd known them.

In truth, the best option for her would be if he turned around and walked away completely, putting as much distance between them as he could. If he didn't show any interest in her, neither would the reporters. But he couldn't do that. He'd offered her his friendship, offered it to James and, like he'd told her yesterday, he was a man of his word. He wouldn't just turn his back on either of them. So the next best thing would be for them both to be seen with someone else. If her name was linked with another man, he could convince reporters they were nothing more than friends. She and James would be off their radar once they saw her with someone else.

“Date?”

“Look, I like you and I like James. I don't want to cause you any trouble. To make this go away, this reporter, whoever it is, needs to see you involved with someone else.”

“Wouldn't it be more important to see
you
with someone else?” she pointed out. “I'm a nobody and it isn't me they want to follow.”

“They do now, because they think we are together.” Grant ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Bethany, I messed up. I wasn't even thinking about this the other day when I invited you two to the park or last night. I'm so used to it that I don't even notice it most of the time anymore, but you're not.”

She studied the paper again. “No, this is not the kind of attention I really want James dealing with.” Her gaze sought his. “But what makes you think my dating is going to change anything? It would be far easier for you to go out with someone else.”

Grant didn't miss the flicker in her eyes as she said it but he didn't dare hope it was because she might not want him to date someone. He had no right, not unless he was willing to give her what she deserved.

“And I will. But we need to create the right image here, to tell a story that shines a good light on you. If I date someone else, you're the poor, single mom screwed over by the football star. That's going to create attention you don't want too. If
you
date, then they'll second-­guess the validity of us as an item altogether. Rather than admit they were wrong, the story will drop with the attention disappearing altogether.”

Grant didn't even want to think about the way his stomach was churning at the words coming from his mouth. He was honest enough to admit he wanted her for himself, but he was realistic enough to know that wasn't possible, not while he was still playing ball. Not while he couldn't offer her any sort of security or a future. Shit, if he didn't get back on the team, he'd be forced to live in the bunkhouse for the next two years until he started seeing a return on the money he'd invested into Jackson's venture.

“Bethany, you agreed that James needs a man in his life.”

Bethany crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought that was why we were going to meet up with you today,” she pointed out. “For him to learn ‘guy' stuff.”

“It is, but we both know I won't always be around.” He saw the flicker of regret in her eyes but he had to press on. “I'm heading back for training soon. He's going to need someone besides just me.”

Jealousy ate at him. The thought of another man playing ball with James, teaching him how to fish, or how to throw a baseball, grated on his nerves. He'd grown far more attached to this pair in the past few days than he'd ever thought was possible. He relished the sight of them, longed to be with them when he wasn't. It was as if there was a common thread that had drawn them to one another. The thought of someone else making either of them smile or laugh made him feel hollow inside.

But he couldn't offer them what they deserved and it wasn't fair to pretend he could. He'd meant what he said about being her friend so he needed to get her out of this mess he'd gotten her into, which meant forgoing what he wanted
someday
for what she deserved today.

James slid from the kitchen table and came running toward them. “I'm finished. Can I have another one?

“You can have one more, but after you go put your clothes on.” She looked at Grant. “We
are
still on for today. Right?”

Grant could see the hesitation in her hazel eyes again, the anxiety creeping back. He felt like every bit of the headway he'd made at gaining her trust had been destroyed.

“Make sure you wear long pants and bring your bathing suit with you. Go, hurry.” Grant gave James the sign for
hurry
. The little boy scooted past him and ran up the stairs. He could hear drawers opening and slamming shut. “Bethany.”

She met his gaze but he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He wanted to go back to the easy friendship they'd had last night. Hell, he wanted to go back to that moment in the doorway of the bathroom when it had taken every ounce of self-­control to keep from kissing her. She moved past him toward the kitchen and grabbed the coffee cups, passing one to him.