Chapter Six
Christina scrambled away from Ray and out of the bed.
It was broad daylight, sunshine pouring through Ray’s windows. She smelled coffee brewing below and the sharp scent of bacon.
Crap, crap, crap. Christina snatched up her dress, struggling to slide it on.
“Why’re you in such a hurry?” Ray couldn’t be feeling good, but he sure looked good, sprawled out half-dressed on the bed, his green eyes heavy.
“Because I have to go,” Christina babbled. “Things to do. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“What things?” Ray’s affable look faded. “Do you have to do them at the crack of dawn?”
“I have to get home before people see me coming back like this and know I spent the night out here. Everyone saw me leave the reception with you.”
“Yeah, and they know we’ve been going out for a while now, and we sleep together. It’s not a big secret.”
“I know. It’s just …” Christina trailed off, turning in a circle as the zipper in back stuck, her fingers losing hold of the tiny tab.
Ray came off the bed, moving fast for a man with a hangover. He turned Christina around, took hold of the zipper and smoothly drew it up.
“Thanks,” Christina said breathlessly.
“Stay for breakfast,” Ray said. It wasn’t a suggestion.
“I can’t. Sorry.”
He caught her shoulders as she faced him again. “Why not? It’s breakfast. My sisters will be hurt if you run off without tasting it.”
“Ray.” Christina stopped. Her heart beat rapidly, and she felt like shit. “Why are you forcing me to be mean to you?”
Ray released her. “Because I don’t like to be lied to. You obviously weren’t happy waking up beside me, and that’s never happened before. Are you trying to run back to Grant? Is that it?”
“No.” Christina passed a hand through her tumbling hair. “You saw Grant with those girls at the bar. You got mad at me for looking at him; told me to call you when I was over it. Now I realize I’m going to need more time to get my head on straight. I can’t ask you to wait while I do that. You have a life.”
While she talked, Ray shrugged off his shirt and tossed it on top of the clothes she’d left on his dresser. He stood in a tight undershirt and boxers, muscles stretching the T-shirt across a hard frame.
He looked like a pin-up guy that women would post on social media and drool over. They’d think Christina nuts for dumping him.
Ray folded his arms, which made him more heart-stoppingly handsome than ever. “So, what, you’re breaking up with me?”
“I didn’t want to do it like this,” Christina said in a tired voice. “I wanted to wait until you felt better.”
“No, this is good.” His voice was a growl, but the words were calm. “Better than you taking me out to a restaurant and giving me a last meal. I’d rather get over the hangover and you walking out at the same time. My big-ass headache might just blot it all out.”
“Ray, I’m really sorry,” Christina said, her chest aching. “I never meant for you to be hurt—believe me on that. How about if I tell everyone you broke up with me? I don’t want people feeling sorry for you.”
“Huh. Don’t worry about me, sugar. I won’t be crying into my beer over you. I always knew you didn’t want anyone but Grant. I just thought we could have some fun, that’s all.”
Christina’s eyes stung. “We did. I had fun. I’m so, so sorry.”
Ray scowled. “Stop saying you’re sorry and take your ass out of here. Especially before you can say, I hope we’ll still be friends. I haven’t decided whether I want to stay friends with you or not. I’m going to be pissed off for a while, all right? Just leave me alone when you see me. If I start being cordial to you, that means maybe I’m ready to be friends again.”
“Yeah, all right.” Christina rubbed her arms. “I’m so—”
Ray held up his hand. “Crap on a crutch, sweetheart, quit with the I’m sorry. It’s getting on my nerves. Just leave.”
“Okay.” Christina tried a smile. “See ya, Ray.”
“Sure. See you round.”
Christina plucked her handbag from the dresser and hurried out, wincing when Ray slammed the door behind her.
Downstairs, she tried to sneak out the door, but Grace came out of the kitchen and caught her. “Christina? Where you running off to? Lucy and I cooked a big spread—okay, I did the cooking, and Lucy did important things like opening jars.”
“Hey,” Lucy said, coming out behind Grace. “Opening jars is important.”
They stood next to each other, Lucy three years older than Grace, the sisters much alike in looks—dark hair, the Malory green eyes. Grace wore her long hair in a ponytail, loved to cook, and had an apron to go with every outfit. Lucy had her hair cut into a businesslike do, and her clothes and makeup were always crisp and neat. In school, Grace had loved home economics and English; Lucy had loved math and business classes.
Grace noticed Christina’s moist eyes, and softened her tone. “Christina, what happened? Was my brother a crabby shit to you?”
“No … not his fault.” Christina shook her head. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I didn’t mean to stay the rest of the night.”
“Because when I peeked in, you were sleeping like a baby, and I thought …” Grace spread her hands.
Lucy finished, “She thought you and Ray had been getting busy. No?”
“No,” Christina said. She let out a breath. “Just a warning. We split up, so Ray might be in a bad mood when he comes down. You might not want to mention me at all.”
Instead of looking worried, the two girls deflated in disappointment. “Aw, damn,” Lucy said. “I was hoping you’d get to be my sister one day.”
Christina would have liked that. Another twist to the pain in her heart.
Grace gave her a shrewd look. “Is this because of Grant?” she asked. “I don’t want to upset you, but I have to tell you, Christina—last night I saw him walking a woman out to her car. When he came back, he was disheveled, if you know what I mean, mud all over his coat. I hate to say it, but you need to know. I don’t like to see you breaking your heart on him.”
Lucy nodded in support.
Christina suspected that the woman in question had been the one she’d seen Carter with when he’d come looking for Grant. Christina had stayed long enough to watch the woman hand Grant a business card, and the three of them start chatting. Someone who wanted to hire them, no doubt. Carter had probably asked Grant to see her to her car.
Grant had been rumpled because he’d been having a grope session with Christina, not the mystery woman. Christina decided not to enlighten Lucy and Grace about that.
Christina gave them each a hug and a kiss. “You two are terrific friends. Thanks for the breakfast invitation, but I don’t think I should stay. I don’t want to upset Ray any more than I already have, and I just need to be by myself for a while.”
Grace and Lucy said they understood, though they remained disappointed.
Christina finally got out of there and into her car, her tulle bow now a tired lump.
She drove back into town, the road blurry from her tears. When she pulled up at the stop sign at the square, it was to see Grant and one of the guys who worked at the Campbells’ ranch getting out of Grant’s truck outside the feed store.
Grant, not three feet from her, glanced over, and stilled. He took in Christina’s mussed hair and her wrinkled bridesmaid’s dress, and his mouth went hard.
He turned away without acknowledging her, walking with his guy around the feed store to where bales of hay were stacked behind it.
Christina had a good view of Grant’s fine ass in tight jeans, but it was the back of him saying good-bye. Maybe even good riddance.
***
Doing a stunt with a train was always dangerous. Grant set up a meeting with the train restoration society, and the following Friday took Tyler with him to go look at the site.
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br /> The club had been founded in the last year, and recently, they’d bought a piece of track about forty miles west of Riverbend, on a line no longer used. The area was flat, with grasslands drier than those of River County. Grant had known about the place but never had cause to go there before now. Grant liked the look of it when he arrived—level ground was better for stunt work.
Karen made sure the engineer was expecting them. The restored steam engine was a thing of beauty, as fully functional as it had been a hundred and forty years ago. It pulled a train of three passenger cars and a baggage car, also well restored.
This particular engine and cars had been used in movies and TV before, and the engineer who’d bought it and moved here from California was familiar with setting up shots. He invited them for a ride, and they went around the mile-long circle of track.
Halfway along, Grant had the engineer slow the train, and he and Tyler got out to observe it move from the ground.
When the train circled back around to them, first Grant, then Tyler, ran and jumped up onto the cars. Decent hand and foot holds, Grant found, and the driver knew how to keep the train running at an even pace.
Grant and Tyler let themselves into the passenger cars and walked their length inside. The train had been restored with polished wood, velvet seats, and gleaming windows with tasseled shades. It even had a restored metal water jug with spigot for thirsty passengers.
The brothers went out onto the back platform and climbed to the top of the car. The train was going at snail speed, but everything swayed a lot.
They sat down on the roof, enjoying the panorama of the wide Texas land under a huge sky as the train took them back toward the depot.
“So Karen Marvin,” Tyler said. Karen had come to the ranch a couple times this week, to go through paperwork with Carter. “You know, she’s not bad looking—in a tight-assed businesswoman kind of way. But hey, when the suit comes off, and the hair comes out of the bun, those ladies are all woman, just like any other.”
Grant hid a grin. “Ask her out then.”
“Can’t while I’m going out with Jeannette. Even I need to do things one at a time, bro.”
Grant went through Tyler’s conquests but couldn’t place this one. Must be recent. “Who’s Jeannette?”
“You met her at Adam’s party, remember?”
Grant’s memory cleared. “Oh, that Jeannette. The stripper.”
“Exotic dancer,” Tyler corrected him. “We got to talking, and hit it off.” He shrugged.
Of course they had. Tyler’s libido was legendary.
Tyler frowned at him. “Take that disapproving look off your face, all right? There’s nothing wrong with her.”
Grant lifted his hands. “Did I say anything? Just be careful.”
“I think you need to watch yourself. I saw Karen looking at you like she wanted to grab you and start chewing on you.” Tyler looked down as they approached the depot. “And speak of the devil.”
Karen was waiting on the small platform with Carter and another man from the historical society. She tilted her head back, saw Tyler and Grant sitting on top of the car, and waved. She was in a dark blue skirted business suit today, had her hair in a swept-back French braid, and wore sunglasses against the glare.
Grant caught the bars of the ladder, descended a few rungs, then jumped the rest of the way to the platform.
“Looks okay,” Grant said to Carter, who waited for his report. “Solid—nothing’s going to fall apart on us. Good handholds, plus they’ll let us put on others if we need them.”
Karen had taken off her sunglasses and nibbled one of the earpieces as Grant spoke.
“I think we can do this,” Tyler added. “Train cars are good and sturdy.”
“Great,” Karen said. “Then we can get started right away. How about if I take you boys to lunch, and we can discuss the script?”
Tyler tipped his hat and gave her a polite smile. “No can do, ma’am, but thanks. I have a ton of stuff going on at the ranch I gotta get back to. Nice meeting you again.” He did the hat thing one more time, then settled it on his head, winked at Karen, and walked out through the depot.
“Then it’s us three?” Karen asked.
Carter shook his head. “I have another meeting. Grant will go over the script with you and talk about what needs to be done. He’s good at that.”
Grant felt a burning in his chest, but he put on a smile. “Sure, be happy to.”
They walked through the small depot, thanking the guys in the historical society once more. Grant dropped a twenty into their fund-raising jar, then followed Karen and Carter out.
Carter said good-bye and headed for his truck. Karen started toward the BMW she’d driven the night of the wedding. Grant had ridden out here with Tyler, who was already gone, so his choices of transportation were drying up fast.
“Hang on a sec, ma’am,” Grant said to Karen. “Just got to remind my brother of something.”
Karen nodded, unworried, and unlocked her car. Grant quickened his stride to catch up with Carter.
“What the hell are you doing, throwing me to the wolves?” Grant asked him.
Carter turned around, his hazel eyes cool. “I really do have another meeting. I know she’s a man-eater, but suck it up. Don’t blow this deal, Grant. We need the money.”
Grant let out his breath. He was used to women chasing after him, but the buckle bunnies were usually starry-eyed and a little sweet, even the most determined ones. Predatory women were not his thing.
He gave Carter a curt nod. “All right, I got this. But you owe me.”
“Sure.” Carter was done with the conversation. He pointedly got into his truck and slammed the door.
Karen was already in the car by the time Grant reached it. She smiled at him when he got in and tugged on his seatbelt.
The sedan was cushy, top of the line, with leather seats that cradled Grant’s butt, individual climate control for each passenger, and a state-of-the-art sound system, the whole works. The doors locked with a loud click, a sound Grant didn’t like.
“Let’s go to that cute restaurant you have in Riverbend,” Karen said. “I’ve been dying to try it. Real down-home food, right? Tell me it’s not so down-home that it’s all roaches and rats and chicken-fried steak.”
“Mrs. Ward keeps her place clean,” Grant said. “We have health inspectors even out here. But she does make a mean chicken-fried steak.”
“I’ll have to be guided by you on my menu choices then.”
Grant knew damn well that if he walked into Ward’s Family Restaurant with this woman on his arm, it would be all over town by mid-afternoon.
But what the hell? He hadn’t heard from Christina all week, hadn’t seen her since she’d pulled up outside the feed store the morning after the wedding. He’d been there because a whole pile of hay bales at the ranch had spoiled. Grant had called the owner, asking the man to open up for him, even if it was a Sunday.
He’d heard a car stop, and there had been Christina, just woken up and still in her wedding clothes. Something sour had bit his stomach, and he’d turned away, unable to look anymore.
He knew from Grace Malory that Christina had moved out of her apartment and into Bailey’s house, now that Bailey would be living with Adam, but that’s all Grant knew. Grant had kept away from town, staying at Circle C and working until he drove home and fell into bed. He didn’t want to go to the bar and see Christina, so Grant’s social life had narrowed to his family.
If the good folks of Riverbend wanted to think Grant Campbell had become the boy toy of a rich city woman, let them.
“All right,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “You bet.”
Chapter Seven
As Grant led Karen into the restaurant, he felt a distinct chill around him. People glanced up, watched him go by, eyes stony.
Their looks weren’t knowing or amused. These were the hostile gazes of unhappy people.
Oh, come on. Everyone already kne
w about the Campbells starting a new stunt riding project, and how Karen had come out from Houston, staying in Fredericksburg while she watched the shoot. The woman had come to the wedding reception, for crying out loud. Grant hadn’t noticed hostile looks then.
They couldn’t be mad at him for Christina’s sake, either. The whole town had watched Grant and Christina date other people since their breakup, and they’d already picked a side.
So what was going on?
Grant ushered Karen into an empty booth and took the seat opposite her. Karen, oblivious of the scrutiny, took the menu from its slot on the table and opened it.
“This place is so cute,” she said, glancing around at the potted plants, the white curtains, the photos on the walls of Riverbend through the years. She liked that word—cute. “I can see why you all come here.”
“It’s also the only place in town.” Grant had taken off his hat upon entering, and now he dropped it onto the seat beside him. “Mrs. Ward is one hell of a cook. People from one of those food channel shows came out here to meet her, and challenged her to a cook-off. Mrs. Ward won.”
Karen gave a laugh with her neatly lipsticked mouth. “Mrs. Ward doesn’t have a first name?”
Grant shrugged. “Sure, but she’s a pillar of Riverbend. Her family’s lived here for decades. It’s a sign of respect, calling her Mrs. Ward.”
“Your family has lived here for decades,” Karen pointed out. “Your mom told me to call her Olivia.”
Grant folded his arms across the menu, trying to hang on to his patience. “My mom is different. She had to raise five kids on her own. Five boys. Made her tough.”
“So she gets a first name and Mrs. Ward doesn’t?”
“Mrs. Ward likes to be called Mrs. Ward,” Grant said, a bit stiffly. “It’s the way it is.”
“Don’t get mad, sweetie. I’m only trying to understand.” She glanced around. “Any way we can get some water? And order? I love getting to know you, honey, but I do have a full afternoon.”
The waitresses and busboys seemed to be avoiding the table. Grant signaled to a waitress he’d known since he was five, giving her a wave. She disappeared into the kitchen and didn’t come out.
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