Grant shoved the microphone at a startled Adam. Adam glared at him, and Bailey whispered, “Grant, no.”
“Come on, Adam,” Grant said, leaning so his words went into the mike. “Say it like man.”
Adam intensified the glare, grabbed the mike, and made a show of pushing Grant out of the way. Then he took Bailey’s hand and kissed it.
“Me and Bailey are having a baby,” Adam announced.
Silence. Then the big tent erupted into cheers, applause, a lot of aws.
Carter raised his beer to them, the quiet smile on his face as warm as Tyler’s crazed yells. Faith jumped up and down and clapped. “I get cousins. I get cousins!”
Grant seized the mike back from Adam. “So are me and Christina,” he said. “But y’all already knew that.”
More laughter, clapping. Grant waved at the band to start playing again. “Adam,” he said before he relinquished the mike to the band leader. “Dance with your wife.”
Grant caught Christina, who was two steps from him, and pulled her into his arms. As couples, including Adam and Bailey, began spinning around them, he whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you.” Christina slid her hands to his shoulders, her smile igniting everything good inside him. “And I love how great you are to your brothers.”
Grant grinned. “Not that they always deserve it.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re all about family, and not too macho to admit it.”
“You love family too, baby. And you’re a firecracker in bed. How’d I get so lucky?”
Christina shrugged as she wrapped her arms around him. “You have an angel on your shoulder, I guess.”
“No, I got one rubbing against my front.” Grant loved that Christina wasn’t demure and shy. She said what she meant, but she was always about truth.
Plus she had no qualms about giving him hot looks that promised a lot of sparks later.
“Maybe we can find a tree to get stuck to,” she said slyly as they began moving in the dance.
Grant kissed her cheek. “How about our big, soft bed at your house? We’ll get in it tonight, and we won’t get out until we’re good and ready. Even if it’s three days later.”
“Sounds great.” Christina drew herself closer, rose on tiptoe, and nibbled his earlobe. “But we can see what we can do under that tree first, can’t we?”
Grant’s entire body went tight. “Sugar, you are one wicked woman.”
“Aw, you wouldn’t like me if I weren’t.” Christina bit his ear again, then drew away.
“Hell, baby, I’d love you no matter what you were like, and you know it.”
Grant took her hands and led her out through the whirling couples. Many people wanted to stop and talk, congratulate, hug, and Grant and Christina let them.
Then, when Grant saw an opening, he grabbed Christina’s hand and ran with her out into the cool, moonlit air.
Down the hill they went, their laughter floating into the night. Behind them their families and friends of Riverbend danced in the glow of the tent, and Christina’s flowers fell to the grass to glitter in the darkness like white stars.
End
Read on for a preview of
Carter
Riding Hard, Book 3
By Jennifer Ashley
Chapter One
Grace Malory opened the oven door, filling the large kitchen at the Campbells’ ranch with the warm aroma of baking cake.
She worked alone in the family kitchen today, so she heard no applause, no sounds of appreciation. Her nose, though, told her that the cake had come out just fine.
Grabbing pot holders, she lifted the cake from the oven and set it on waiting cooling racks on the counter. She turned off the stove, threw down the pot holders, and breathed a sigh of relief.
This cake needed to be perfect. It was for Faith’s birthday tomorrow—Grace had volunteered to make all the goodies for her party, including a special cake that would hold nine candles.
Faith had requested a Texas sheet cake— “The kind with chocolate frosting,” Faith had said, wrinkling her fine-boned nose. “Not the frosting with all the nuts in it. Please?”
“Of course, sweetie,” Grace had said. “It’s your birthday. You can have what you want.”
Faith was in a no nuts on anything or in anything phase. No raisins either. Faith liked to eat both of those, but not mixed in with her cakes, cookies, pies, or what-have-you. “I like nuts in the shells, and raisins in the box,” Faith had declared.
“As God intended,” her father, Carter had rumbled in response. Faith had laughed in delight, and Grace had looked on, her heart flip-flopping.
Grace leaned down to inhale the cake’s fragrance, once more satisfied. It unnerved her that it was Carter’s praise she imagined when the finished, frosted masterpiece was laid before Faith and her friends tomorrow. Carter so rarely gave his approval to anyone but his daughter that winning some from him was all the sweeter.
Grace knew full well that she wanted Carter to look at her for more reasons than the triumph of pleasing a hard-to-please man. She wanted his intense hazel-eyed gaze on her, while he gave her his slow nod.
To hell with it. She just wanted to be in the same room with the man, no matter what he said or did. Pathetic.
Grace slammed open her notebook, flipping to the sheet cake frosting recipe she’d perfected for Faith. Her recipe notebook was thick with cakes, cookies, and pastries of all kinds, which she’d created and mastered when she’d planned to open a restaurant with another chef who turned out to be a crook. All Grace’s hopes and dreams had flown when the man had disappeared in the night with all the funds, after Grace had made a down payment on the restaurant and co-signed for a start-up loan.
She’d been shocked, betrayed, financially devastated, and plain mad. Being all-around cook to a local ranching family wasn’t her end goal, but when Grant, the second oldest Campbell brother had suggested it, Grace leapt at the chance.
Because I need the money, Grace had told herself. She was stuck paying back the loans the con man had left her with. And something to do to take my mind off things.
Bull. She’d jumped at the offer to work here so she’d have an excuse to be near Carter Sullivan, the Campbells’ adopted brother. She’d been gone on him since high school, when he’d been the cool kid, untouchable and mysterious.
At first, Grace had thought her crush had stemmed from the fact that Carter was forbidden fruit, but over the years, she’d changed her mind. She simply liked him, everything about him—from his Houston drawl, to his long silences, to his hard face and the tatts that laced down his arms. And, all right, his hot body and great ass.
But the man never noticed her.
A thump on the kitchen door broke Grace out of her contemplation. She’d been staring at the recipe while she daydreamed about Carter and not seeing a word of it.
No one was home at the Campbell house—the family was out and about doing various things that took them to the far corners of River County, and Faith was at school. It was a fine September day, with a blue arch of sky and floating white clouds, warm but not too hot. Perfect weather.
The guys—and a few gals—who worked down in the stables rarely came to the house, calling on the phone when they needed something. But maybe they’d smelled baking and come looking for something to eat. They knew Grace liked feeding people.
Grace closed her notebook and moved across the kitchen floor to the little alcove that led to the back door.
“Grace’s Kitchen,” she sang as she flung the door open. “How can I help … ?”
Her words died as she took in the woman on the doorstep. Grace had no idea who she was, which was odd, because Grace knew everyone in Riverbend.
The woman was on the small side, about an inch shorter than Grace, and very slender. She wore stained jeans and a black, close fitting tank top with wide shoulder straps, and carried a leather jacket slung over one arm.
Her hair was short and spiky, dyed a fl
at, soot black. She wore no makeup on her pale face, the lines about her eyes incongruous with her apparent youth. She had lines around her mouth too, and a pinched look that Grace thought, but wasn’t sure, came from certain types of addictive drugs.
“I’m sorry,” Grace said, the politeness she’d learned at her mother’s knee coming to her rescue. “I thought it was one of the stablemen coming to ask for a sandwich. Were you looking for someone?”
The woman already made her uncomfortable, but Grace refused to let herself judge too quickly. She might simply have gotten lost on the back highways that crisscrossed Hill Country and need directions.
The woman looked Grace up and down with hard, brown eyes. Grace did not know her, yet there was something familiar about those eyes, in the shape of them and the way they narrowed.
“Who are you?” the woman snapped. Her voice was gravelly, too deep for such a young throat.
“I’m the cook,” Grace said. “I work here.” Normally, Grace was far friendlier, offering her name and her life story to anyone she met, but her instincts were telling her to be reticent.
“Carter still live here?”
“Yes,” Grace said slowly. Lying would do no good—the woman could ask anyone in town that question and get the same answer. “But he’s not here. Can I tell him who stopped by?”
“You his wife?” The woman gave her a surly stare.
“No.” Grace’s wariness grew, straining her politeness. “As I said, I cook for the family. They’re out today, but if you want to leave a message, I’ll see that they get it.”
“Where’s the girl?”
Grace blinked. “Girl?”
“He named her Faith. Dumbass named her that to get back at me.”
Grace blinked few more times, then she remembered where she’d seen eyes that shape, a mirror of the expression in them.
Holy shit, she was Lizzie Fredrickson. Faith’s mother.
“Um,” Grace said, finding her voice. “She’s not here.”
“Where the hell is she then?” The voice was harsh, filled with volumes of rage.
Nine years ago, this woman had come to the house, shoved a bundle into Carter’s arms, and taken off down the road. The bundle had contained a newborn baby, screaming with fear at the enormity of the world.
Carter had been in complete shock, but once he realized the baby was indeed his, he’d devoted himself fiercely to taking care of her.
And now Lizzie had come back, asking for Faith.
Grace’s own anger grew. She’d watched how Carter had struggled, still a kid himself at eighteen, to be a father, and a good one. He’d given up a lot to make sure Faith was taken care of, kept safe, loved. He’d been a damn good dad, while this woman had utterly abandoned her.
“You gone deaf?” the woman barked. “Where is my daughter? I want her.”
Grace remained silent, her fury mounting. Damned if she would send this woman to a school full of kids to pull Faith out and take her God knew where. Carter needed to know Lizzie was back in town, needed to know now.
“How about if I get Carter on the phone?” Grace asked, striving to maintain an even tone. “You can talk to him about this.”
“Like hell.” The woman dropped the leather jacket, pulling a black pistol from its folds as it went down.
Grace found herself looking into the round barrel of a gun as flat black as the woman’s hair. Her mouth went paper dry, her voice dying off into a tiny squeak. Fear she’d never known wedged in her throat, all from a hunk of metal with a hole in it pointed at her heart.
“Where is my daughter? Tell me now, bitch.”
Nothing came from Grace’s mouth. If she’d been hesitant about sending this woman to Faith’s school before, she certainly wasn’t going to let her go down there with a gun.
“I said now.”
Lizzie didn’t raise her voice—no chance of the guys down the hill in the stables hearing—but the words were final.
“Let me call Carter,” Grace said quickly. She needed to hear his voice—not only that, Carter would call Ross, his deputy brother. “You two need to work this out.”
The gun didn’t waver, but Lizzie sneered. “Figures. He’d go for a snotty little soft girl like you.”
“You need to go.” Grace firmed her voice, like she did when her two older brothers got too bossy and obnoxious. What she wouldn’t give for a chance visit from Kyle or Ray now.
“Not until you tell me where Faith is. I want my kid.”
Damn it. Grace would never tell her—and anyway, what kind of woman wouldn’t understand that on a school day, during the school year, her daughter would be at the elementary school in White Fork? But Lizzie wasn’t from Riverbend. She’d known Carter in his gang days in Houston, and she’d come here to find him. After a brief and much gossiped about fling, she’d vanished just as quickly.
The silence went on too long. Grace saw the tightening of Lizzie’s eyes and her finger on the trigger.
In that split second, Grace dove back behind the kitchen door, but not fast enough.
The sound of the shot exploded in Grace’s ears, blotting out all else, except pain. Then came the bright smell of blood to overpower the warm, chocolate-cake scent of the kitchen. Grace fell to the floor, her legs no longer working.
The last thing she saw of Lizzie was the woman turning and running, a black flash in the bright sunshine. Grace heard shouting from the men at the stables, the neighing of startled horses.
Grace’s limp fingers closed around the cell phone in her pocket. Her hand was all bloody, the red obscuring her contact list, so annoying. She managed to touch her thumb to the name Carter. Her ears still ringing from the shot, she could barely hear him answer in his rumbling, beloved voice.
“Carter,” she whispered. Whatever happened after that was a blank.
End of Excerpt
Recipes
Grant Campbell’s
Hotter ’n’ Hell Texas Chili
And its milder cousin
Makes about four servings
(a nice hearty bowl)
Ingredients
1 1/2 to 2 pounds ground beef (ground sirloin works well)
1 yellow onion, chopped (or two teaspoons of dried, minced onion)
2 cloves of garlic, minced (or two teaspoons of garlic granules)
2 4-oz cans of diced green chiles
OR 1-2 jalapeño peppers seeded and chopped
3 tablespoons chili powder (chili powder commonly found in grocery stores is fine)
2 teaspoons cumin
2 teaspoons dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper (optional)
1-2 tablespoons specialty chile powder (depending on how hot you want it—guajillo powder, Hatch chile powder, or habanero powder—see Note)
2 14-oz cans of beef broth
1 cup of water (more as needed)
Salt / pepper
Warning: ALWAYS use gloves when peeling, seeding, and dicing fresh chile peppers. The juices, membranes, and seeds can seriously burn your skin.
1. Brown meat with onion, garlic, and fresh jalapeños or canned chiles (8-10 minutes).
2. Once meat is browned, transfer the meat mixture into in a Dutch oven or slow cooker. Add beef broth and 2 cups water.
3. Add chili powder, cumin, oregano, cayenne, and then specialty chile powders to taste. Mild chile powders give the chili a smoky flavor without adding too much heat. Hotter powders (e.g., habanero) crank up the heat.
If using the Dutch oven, simmer for two hours, covered, stirring and adding liquid as needed.
If using the slow cooker, cover and simmer for four hours at least, adding liquid as needed.
For both methods:
4. After one hour, taste and add another tablespoon of regular chili powder, 1/4 teaspoon cayenne (if using), and 1 teaspoon specialty chile powder.
5. Taste after another hour and add more cayenne or specialty chile powders if needed.
6. Before serving, add sal
t and pepper to taste.
Serve with: Cornbread and grated cheese (cheddar or Monterey Jack). A dollop of sour cream or a flour tortilla can bring down the heat for those who need it.
Milder version: Same as hot version, but use mild chile powders, and fresh or canned mild green chiles instead of jalapeños (also see Note 2).
Even hotter version: If you really want to turn up the heat, use fresh serrano or habanero peppers in place of jalapeños or green chiles.
Heat scale:
Scoville heat scale for chiles (approximate values)
Habanero = 200,000
Serrano = 7000-25,000
Guajillo = 5000
Jalapeño = 3500-4000
Anaheim (green) = 1000
Bell peppers = 0
Note: Specialty chile powders can be ordered from Mild Bill’s in Texas
(https://www.mildbills.com)
and Native Seed Search in Tucson, Arizona
(http://shop.nativeseeds.org/collections/chile-powders).
Browse their sites for varieties of chile powders. Try different powders for fun. I like the guajillo chile powder from Native Seeds, and the Hatch chile powders from Mild Bill’s.
Note 2: Grant believes his chili to be a true Texas chili, which means no beans or even tomatoes. If you love tomatoes in your chili, feel free to add a can of peeled, chopped tomatoes (or peel and chop fresh ones in season). Tomatoes will also cool down the heat.
Grace Malory’s Triple-Chocolate Chip Cookies
Makes 30-40 cookies
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter (cut into small pieces and soft but not too squishy)
1/2 cup granulated white sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
Grant Page 18