by Maisey Yates
“I didn’t violate any rules. A man asked me about it. Then I got too sweaty and it fell off.” Pru slumped into her chair and tried not to scowl as she unpacked her lunch.
Kit rubbed her hands together. “Ooh. A man? Where the hell is Hope?”
“Definitely not an ooh,” Pru muttered, shoving a bite of sandwich into her mouth. “It was one of those Mathewsons.” Pru waved that off, as if they were all the same. As if she didn’t care.
“Which one?” Charity asked, plucking a grape from her pretty, neat bento box lunch. The chips on the side were what made her more human than robot in Pru’s estimation.
“Who knows? They’re all the same to me.” That was a flat-out lie. Grant had always been a part of her brother’s life, which in extension meant hers.
“And what did he say about it? What did you say?”
“He asked what happened to my face. I said I scratched it on some junk and no great love match was made.” Pru frowned. “Then he called me squirrelly.”
Charity waggled her eyebrows. “That’s hot.”
Pru narrowed her gaze. “It was weird.”
“Why?” Kit demanded, as if zeroing in on a point she was going to argue.
“Because Grant and Beau are like best friends and he’s old and...”
“Uh-oh,” Charity said in a fake whisper.
“Uh-oh, what?” Pru demanded.
“Well, first, you lied,” Charity said, keeping her expression completely placid though Pru saw the humor in her eyes. “So you have to take another slip.”
A screeching sound erupted, unbidden, from her mouth. “I didn’t—”
“You said you didn’t know which Mathewson,” Kit pointed out, studying her apple smugly, “when clearly, you did.”
Luckily Pru found herself speechless with anger, so she couldn’t get herself into any more trouble by arguing.
“Second, you’ve got the hots for him.”
“Who does Pru have the hots for?” Hope asked, hurrying into the store, her lunch clutched to her chest.
“Where have you been?” Pru asked. Hope was suspiciously out of breath and...rumpled. She was also the perfect person to take the spotlight off her.
“Brooks came by.” Hope sat, attempting to look very regal.
“Mm. We’ll circle back to that,” Kit replied, making a circling motion with her finger before pointing it at Pru. “But first. Pru. Grant Mathewson.”
“I do not have the hots for him. He’s almost forty.”
“That doesn’t stop you loving Harrison Ford.”
“The man who played Indiana Jones and Han Solo is an exception to all rules.”
“You have to give her that one,” Charity agreed.
“So, Grant—an attractive man, by all accounts—asked you about your Band-Aid and this made you uncomfortable.” Kit grinned. “Why?”
Pru knew she should take it in good fun, and she wanted to. She just couldn’t get there. She felt...well, the exact word Grant had used for her. Squirrelly. “It’s like thinking my brother is hot.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “But your brothers are hot.”
“First of all,” Pru said, shuddering, “you are disgusting. Second of all, you know what I mean.”
“I guess I do, but I don’t really understand why you’re all shoulder tense about it.”
Pru immediately dropped her shoulders from her ears and straightened her spine. “I don’t like this line of conversation.”
Her three best friends exchanged looks. Looks Pru understood all too well. They’d drop it because she was being too weird about it. But it wasn’t over over. There was a pin in it until they were sure she wouldn’t Pru-ricane.
“Well, whatever slip you pull out next you should definitely use on him,” Kit said.
“I’m not using anything on him.”
“Don’t get all bent out of shape, Pru,” Charity said with some concern. “It’s all in good fun.”
“I am not bent out of shape.” And it wasn’t fun. She was churned up and...and... “I have things to do.”
“Oh, come on,” Kit said. Charity started apologizing, and Hope said nothing. Pru walked out of Kit’s shop, lunch remains left behind, mostly uneaten.
It was childish. She knew that, but she’d rather everyone think her childish and short-tempered than understand she was...confused. Weirded out. Uncomfortable and wholly out of her depth.
Like she’d ever do anything on the Grant score. Coming home and hooking up with her older brother’s best friend? She snorted as she walked back into her store. The sheer complication, the embarrassment of dealing with her family, and...and... Grant?
She shuddered. It was quite literally all a nightmare thought, and it bothered her beyond measure that her brain had even led her here to this horror-show hypothetical.
So, she firmly put it out of her mind and got to work.
* * *
GRANT STEPPED OUT of his house in a bad mood. Mary Riley had called him up this morning, flat-out told him she expected him to help Prudence with her junk removal until the job was done, and then invited him for dinner next week.
A man didn’t turn down an invite to dinner from Mary Riley, no matter how much he tried. And boy had he tried.
What was it about women and dinners? And togetherness? Why couldn’t they just let him alone? He’d spent his entire life surrounded by his brothers. And when he hadn’t been, there’d always been Beau and JT. He was hardly alone.
Especially now that Cade had married JJ, bringing a new glow of happiness to the Mathewson Ranch. Mac was making noise about getting married to his girlfriend, and Violet had already moved into the main house, filling it up with frilly female things, including once-a-week mandatory family dinners.
Grant stalked out to the large gardens in the back. Even though he’d turned over his mother’s flowers to JJ last year, he hadn’t quite broken the habit of checking in. And since JJ often put him to work, he’d kept it up. JJ wasn’t a chatter, so they could work quietly together.
He found her kneeling in the beds, weeding.
“Should you, ah, be doing that? You know...in your...condition?”
JJ looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not a terminal illness, Grant. It’s pregnancy.” His sister-in-law stood from where she’d been weeding between the flowers she grew to supply her sister’s florist shop.
“Sure, but it’s terrifying.”
JJ eyed him. “You’ve helped birth cows.”
“Cows are not humans.”
“Thank God for that. You want me to put you to work weeding instead?”
He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have to go to town.”
“Twice? In one week? You okay?” She didn’t say it mockingly like his brothers would have, but that didn’t make the question any less grating.
“Beau’s got me helping his little sister clear out some junk. She’s one of the ones that rented those storefronts on Main. Well, you know that. They’re renting your grandma’s place too.” He hoped the shrug was careless, but it hardly felt it. He hated being torn over his responsibility to the ranch and what he owed Mary for all her care of him over the years.
“Little sister?” JJ seemed to think that over. “How little?”
“Huh?”
JJ grinned. “And what does she look like?”
Grant blinked. He couldn’t think of one thing to say. “What?”
JJ placed a hand over her stomach, though there was barely anything there to give away that she was busy growing human life. The grin on her face turned into something far too...seeing. It reminded him of Cade and he scowled. His sister-in-law was not supposed to get all...insightful on him.
“You aren’t getting any younger,” she said gently.
His scowl deepened. “What’s that got to do
with anything?”
“Don’t you want a life of your own? I’m not saying you have to have companionship to be happy, but you don’t seem happy.”
“Judas.”
She smiled a little at that. “I know. I’m not supposed to talk to you about your feelings. Pregnancy is making me sappy.” She moved to grab the watering can, but Grant was faster.
“I’ll get it.”
She sighed. “I’m not an invalid, Grant.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll get it all the same.” He went and filled it and began to water the plants that needed watering while JJ watched him, traitor that she was. Because this was not their relationship. They talked about flowers. About Lora and Ellie—his nieces and her stepdaughters. Sometimes they discussed the ranch, or what was for family dinner.
They did not go any deeper than those things, because he got enough of that from his brothers and from the Rileys. It was a betrayal, plain and simple.
“You know, Grant, take it from the pregnant, married lady who always figured she’d be neither. Happiness isn’t the enemy. It’s scary, and it can be hard. It’s not a state you can hold on to all the time. But it’s not the enemy.”
Of course it wasn’t. He didn’t deny anyone their happiness. He rolled his shoulders to rid himself of the tension that had centered there. He just had responsibilities. When a dying man told you to take care of the ranch and your brothers, you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Which meant happiness was way down on the to-do list.
“I can pick you up something in town if you need it,” he said, ignoring all talk of happiness and focusing instead on what his role in life was. Responsibility.
JJ was silent for a moment, then seemed to accept that was as far as she was going to get. “Thanks. I’ll text you a list.”
He nodded, put the watering can away, then left her to the rest of the weeding. He didn’t head into town right away. First he had to find his brothers and check on what they had planned for the day.
He found Tate and Cade in the stables. Cade had Lora up on their old mare. He’d admit it to no one, but it was a strangely...enjoyable experience watching his youngest brother be a father, doing with his girls what their parents had once done with them.
“Morning,” Grant greeted his brother who was closest in age with him. “You already been out?”
“Pepper and I needed a bit of a ride.”
“Shouldn’t you be in the north pasture checking on the calves?”
Tate kept brushing his horse, not even bothering to shoot Grant a look. “Unclench, big bro,” Tate said. As he often did.
Grant felt unaccountably irritated by it. Some days he could shrug it off, and some days the weight of the responsibility he carried made the tension so tight in him he simply had to break. “Maybe you should clench a bit more.”
“So you always say,” Tate replied, setting the brush aside. He stepped out of the stall and eyed Grant. Tate liked to start fights. Usually Grant sidestepped them, especially with the girls around. So, he focused on what was important. “I hope the rest of the boys are out in the north pasture with the—”
“Dude. Let it go,” Tate said on a groan.
“Let what go? Responsibility? Making sure we’re all taking care of our livelihood instead of screwing it up?”
“That isn’t fair,” Cade said, coming to stand in between them.
“He’s getting worse,” Tate muttered to Cade. “Someone’s got to do something.”
“Worse at what?” Grant demanded, lost.
But Tate waved him off. “Let us do our job, Grant.”
“Last time I checked, this entire ranch is my job, my responsibility, and you with it.”
“I don’t need micromanaging.” Tate started moving forward, his fingers curling into fists. “I’m tired of saying it.”
Grant matched his stance. “Then go somewhere else where you don’t have to say it.” It was too harsh. The last thing he wanted to do was run his brothers off—that was the opposite of what his dad had tasked him with. Grant didn’t know why he said it except that he was in charge here, and they all acted like he’d wrestled that out of someone else’s hands. Instead of having had that heavy mantle laid over him when he hadn’t been able to save their dad.
But Tate kept talking. “I’m sure you’d like that. Drive us all away so you can sulk alone for the rest of your life. Sorry, big brother. Ain’t happening. So you might as well get out of my face before we bloody each other a little.”
Cade stepped in, giving Grant a push. Not a shove that would start a fight, just a push toward the stable doors. He kept nudging until Grant was outside.
“Lay off him,” Cade said firmly, in the same way he talked to his elementary-school-aged daughters.
Grant wanted to bristle at that, but Cade didn’t give him a chance.
“You want to check everyone’s work, you go ahead and wear yourself out. Just do it where we don’t have to see how little you trust us. It’ll save everyone a lot of grief. And you can keep all those alone hours you like so much.”
It wasn’t about trust, but Grant didn’t know how to say that. He didn’t know how to...
“Go. Give Tate some space.” Cade sighed heavily as his girls started shrieking and running toward him, clearly angry with each other. “We’re not your responsibility, Grant,” Cade said sadly. “Not the way you do it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grant demanded. But Cade was dealing with two wailing girls.
What Grant wanted was some good, hard physical labor far away from any human being. Instead, he had to drive into town and help Prudence. He scowled as he stalked to his truck. If he didn’t show up, Mary would likely come over. He didn’t need that. What he needed was more alone time. There was too little of it lately. That was why he was in a piss-poor mood and taking it out on people more than usual.
If he could just be alone for a bit, he’d find his equilibrium again. Figure out how to balance the responsibilities with that tightness in his chest that only seemed to get worse.
He’s getting worse, Tate had said. Like he could see through him to the parts of himself he’d buried deep under all that responsibility.
We’re not your responsibility. Not the way you do it. What? Making sure things were done the right way? Making sure the legacy their father left them didn’t fall apart because Grant hadn’t been diligent enough, careful enough, prepared enough.
Like he hadn’t been when he’d found his dad gasping for air in the barn.
Grant allowed himself enough temper to jerk his truck into Park in front of Pru’s store. It was such a pointless store. Jasper Creek ranchers had gotten used to going elsewhere for feed and the like. What did she think she was doing?
He stalked up to the door, ignoring the little voice that told him he was taking his bad mood out on the wrong people. He stopped short there as he caught sight of her through the big storefront window.
She was standing in the middle of the store, hands fisted on her hips, her profile to him. He didn’t see anyone in there with her, but she appeared to be talking. She gave the creepy goat statue a head pat and he had to wonder if she’d been talking to it.
JJ’s words flitted through his head. What does this little sister look like?
Quite unfortunately, she looked like something that was going to make his life far more complicated than he wanted it to be.
Join the club, Pru.
CHAPTER THREE
THE BELL ON the door tinkled and Pru looked over her shoulder as Grant stepped in. It was like a dark cloud entering the building, an impending storm, but currently contained.
Too bad that black cloud made her heart trip over itself.
There was just something about a man in boots and a cowboy hat that sent her heart to fluttering no matter how she tried...which was why she stayed the he
ll away from them.
Too bad she couldn’t stay away from Grant Mathewson.
“Morning,” she greeted. “You didn’t have to come,” she said, trying to sound casual instead of accusatory.
He made that grunting sound he seemed to think constituted communication.
“I’ll assume, since you’re here, you wanted to.”
He shoved his hat back on his head, then looked around and settled it on an old hat rack in the shape of a turkey. His expression told Pru all she needed to know.
“My mother called you.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Pru snorted. “Don’t be funny, Grant. It doesn’t suit your dour expression.”
He grunted again.
Pru rolled her eyes. Well, she wouldn’t look a gift workhorse in the mouth. She turned to survey the store, then remembered the slip in her hand. Since she’d been alone, she’d been able to complain freely about the injustice of it, so that was just what she’d done, laying all her problems on... Stuart? Goaty Goatface?
She still needed to have that vote on his name.
The man-catching tip was particularly ludicrous today, and all because she’d left her umbrella in the entryway and it had created a puddle Charity had stepped in, soaking her socks.
Charity had been in such a foul mood, and the prospect of making Pru take a slip had cheered her so much, Pru hadn’t had a choice. She’d taken a slip, complaining with enough zeal to make Charity laugh.
Carry a camera and ask strange, handsome men if they would mind snapping your picture.
With their phones locked safely away, Pru had thought she might sneak out of doing this one. But no, Kit had found a small digital camera in the attic of wonders at the Gable house.
Pru had then figured she wouldn’t be in the vicinity of any strange men, but Grant was here and he certainly ticked both boxes. Handsome. Strange. And why not fling all this stupidity at him? It would keep her from embarrassing herself in front of anyone else, and hopefully embarrass her enough in front of Grant that she’d stop feeling all softhearted over him.
“Do me a favor?” She held out the camera. “Take a picture of me in the store.”