He was shaking his head, and Grace didn’t know if it was because he didn’t believe her or he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Either way, she was done with this conversation. Snatching her clothes from where he had laid them so neatly, Grace headed to the bathroom to get dressed. She needed a minute … or twenty … just to calm her frantic heartbeat.
By the time she was dressed, Grace exited the bathroom feeling less than stellar. Her heart was still pounding, and she was actually upset at Grant. Not to mention, she was worried about Lane. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything about the latter, aside from a text message, because showing up at the bunkhouse in the middle of the night, looking like she’d been rode hard and put away wet would only cause a stir. Something she didn’t want to do right now.
At least not until morning.
As she moved through the living room, she realized that Grant wasn’t there. Turning slightly, she saw that his bedroom door was closed. Was that a sign that she should show herself out?
Frustration had her throat working overtime as she tried to swallow past the lump that had formed there. Tears burned the back of her sinuses, but she refused to cry. He was the one who was being a big dummy where his father was concerned.
Yuck!
The memory of looking up to see that man standing there staring at her made her want to vomit. She had been so engrossed in the moment that she hadn’t even realized he was there. There was no telling how long he had stood there, watching them.
Rather than dwell on the disastrous night, Grace decided she’d had enough. Without bothering to let Grant know she was leaving, Grace marched right out the door and didn’t stop until she was walking into her own cabin a few minutes later. By that time, her frustration had morphed into heartache, and she was fighting the tears fiercely.
She feared she was going to lose the battle, and she refused to do that. She would not give Grant’s asshole father any of her tears. She would not let him do this to her.
Maybe she wasn’t ready to waltz up to her father and share the good news that she was in love with two cowboys, but she wasn’t going to let anyone come between her and the men she loved. No one.
One thing she could guaran-damn-tee … Darrell Kingsley might be a betting man, but he had another thing coming if he thought he had won this round. The man might have high hopes, but she was almost positive he hadn’t been betting on her standing up for what she wanted.
That was a bet he would never win.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Grant tossed and turned for the better part of an hour, but he couldn’t get to sleep. Even after taking a shower, hoping the cool water would help to calm his frazzled nerves, he couldn’t keep his eyes closed. The events of the night riddled his brain. God, how had things gotten so out of control? So much so that he’d let Gracie walk out of his house without so much as a good-bye?
Tossing his legs over the edge of the bed, Grant leaned his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair.
He had to fix this.
There was no way he’d ever be able to sleep again if he let things fall apart like this. He was to blame because his father was an asshole, and yet, he’d somehow turned this around on Gracie and Lane.
There wasn’t much he could do about Lane because the man wasn’t answering the text that Grant had sent an hour ago. Since Lane was at the bunkhouse, Grant couldn’t very well go after him, because barging in there would look suspicious.
But he could go to Gracie.
With his decision made, Grant grabbed his jeans, yanking them on, and then snagged a T-shirt out of his dresser as he made his way to the living room. His boots were on the floor where he’d left them earlier, so he pulled them on, his head spinning from all of the things he wanted to say to Gracie.
Not wanting to waste any more time, Grant headed out, opting to go on foot so that the sound of his truck’s engine wouldn’t wake anyone at the ranch. Nor did he want anyone to see him parked in front of Gracie’s at that time of night. More for her benefit than anything else.
Or so he told himself.
He rapped his knuckles on her front door several times before, finally, the door opened, and there she stood, barefoot and beautiful, wearing the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier.
“Hey,” he greeted, expecting her to slam the door in his face.
“Hey,” she replied, pushing the screen door gently open.
Grant took the invitation and followed her inside.
What was he supposed to say now? All of the things he’d intended to tell her had vanished from his mind like smoke on a windy day.
When Gracie flipped on the lamp in the living room and turned to face him, Grant’s heart seized up right there in his chest.
She’d been crying. Her eyes were puffy; her nose was red. She looked like she might’ve been asleep, but he still had to wonder.
Unable to say anything, Grant took several steps forward and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. The sound of her sobs broke his heart into a million pieces.
“I’m so sorry, Gracie. So damn sorry,” he whispered into her hair.
Grant held her for several minutes, the warmth of her body settling something inside of him.
When she pulled back, looking up at him, Grant knew then and there that no one in the world mattered more to him than Gracie. Well, no one other than Lane. He would go to the ends of the earth to make them both happy.
“I lov—”
“Don’t say it,” Gracie interrupted, placing her fingers over Grant’s lips. “Not right now. Not after all that happened tonight.”
“But—”
“No buts, Grant. I know how you feel, don’t think that I don’t. But right now, things are too mixed up. I don’t want you saying somethin’ you might regret later.”
They were both silent for a minute, maybe two. Or hell, maybe it was just a second. Grant didn’t know. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to wrap this woman in his arms and never let her go. When she moved back into him, her arms sliding around his waist, Grant gave in to the emotion, holding her tight but trying not to crush her.
“I want to stay here tonight,” he mumbled.
Gracie didn’t respond with words, but he felt the nod of her head against his chest. The next time she pulled away, Gracie took his hand and led him to her bedroom. His heart was pounding like a bass drum in his chest, painfully hard, as he fought the emotion bubbling up inside of him. He wasn’t the type of man to cry or to give in to the feelings that were suddenly overwhelming him, but he knew it was pointless to try.
So much had happened in the last few hours, and Grant only knew one thing. What he felt for this woman superseded anything he’d ever felt for anyone other than Lane.
Grant’s intentions were entirely altruistic, but that was before he climbed into bed with Gracie after discarding his clothes. Had she kept the T-shirt on, he might’ve been able to cuddle up against her and ignore the raging hard-on that was always prominent whenever she was near. But no… Gracie pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor before crawling up against Grant.
She smelled like flowers, the scent of her shampoo like a soothing balm to his rioting nerves. Her fingers were soft as they caressed his chest, her leg silky where she rested hers over his. At that moment, even with all of the chaos from the day, Grant found himself relaxing, his eyes closing.
Despite the throbbing between his legs, Grant managed to drift off to sleep, but that didn’t last long, because he next thing he knew, his eyes were open, and he was looking at the woman still lying beside him. Gracie was awake, her eyes open as she watched him. Unable to resist, Grant leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers until the only thing he knew was the warmth of Gracie’s lips against his.
Rolling over her, Grant knelt between her thighs, holding his weight above her as he rested on his elbows, his hands cradling her head. He wanted to touch her everywhere, to align their bodies so that they were one.
“Gracie.” Grant whispered her name, the emotions once again crashing into him like a tsunami. It wasn’t just the passion of her kiss or the softness of her hands as they slid over his back. This woman made him burn, she made him ache, and she made him want more than just a passionate moment. He wanted her forever.
He lifted his head to look down at her, smiling as he did. “I love you, Gracie,” he whispered, getting the words out before she could quiet him. “I am so sorry for everyth—”
Well, he didn’t manage to get the rest of his sentence out before she crushed her mouth to his, pulling him to her until he was practically crushing her beneath him. His cock slid through her slick folds, and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her heat, to take her, skin to skin, right there in her bed.
“Make love to me, Grant,” Gracie whispered, sliding her hands into his hair.
He nodded his head, eager to agree. But when he reached toward the bedside table, Gracie stopped him, her legs wrapping around his hips and holding him in place.
“Just us. I want to feel you,” she added.
Grant’s chest heaved with what was left of that emotional buildup, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there were tears forming in his eyes. Unwilling to be a fucking pansy, he inhaled sharply, forcing a smile even though his damn jaw wobbled with the effort.
Gracie must’ve realized he needed some assistance, because she reached between them and wrapped her smooth fingers around his shaft, making him suck in air. All emotion fled as the sensation of her hand around his dick took over. But then there was heat…
Slick, molten heat and he was sliding into her, his breath lodged in his throat, his eyes trained on hers.
“Oh, God, Gracie,” he murmured, the words rushing out of him as the overwhelming pleasure of her body consumed him.
“Love me, Grant,” Gracie whispered, pulling his head to hers until their mouths aligned.
Grant tried to focus on the kiss, tried to ignore the way his balls drew up against his body, the intense sensations ripping through him. They were skin to skin, and he’d never felt anything like it. Nothing quite so exquisite, so all-consuming as being buried balls-deep inside of Gracie’s pussy with nothing between them.
“Baby,” Grant groaned against her mouth, needing air, needing … something. “You feel so good … so tight … so warm.”
Gracie shifted her hips, driving up against him, and Grant was overcome with the sheer intensity of being inside her. Unable to hold himself back, he pulled his elbows in closer to her, sandwiching her between his arms as he stared down into her beautiful face, his hips thrusting forward, pulling back. He focused on the sensation, sliding into her, withdrawing. Over and over until sweat was beading on his forehead and they were both panting.
“Grant… Oh, yes…”
Gracie’s soft moans were undoing him, but the last thing Grant wanted was for this to end.
■□■□■□■□
Grace was doing her best not to lose complete control, not wanting this moment to end. Not yet. Not when Grant was opening himself up so completely. His whispered “I love you” had made her heart swell, but the way he was looking at her, the emotion she could see even in the dim light of the room, told her so much more.
For the first time in the last few months, Grant wasn’t holding back. He wasn’t shielding himself. Grace knew he was just as overwhelmed as she was, and it wasn’t just from the blinding, exquisite sensation of having him inside her bare.
That was incredible, there was no doubt about it, but the emotion that was involved, that was more than she’d ever expected.
Slipping her fingers through his hair, Grace smiled up at Grant as he continued to thrust into her, his rhythm slow and sweet, unlike most of the times they were together when they would allow the excitement of the moment take over. They were making love, and Grace had never known anything quite like it.
Truthfully, Grace felt so much emotion from Lane. The man was an open book, and he shared every feeling, every desire. But with Grant… He kept himself closed off. And tonight, when she’d been lying in her bed, reliving the horror show from earlier, Grace had wondered if Grant kept himself locked up tight because of his home life growing up.
Whatever it was, she was beyond moved that he was opening up to her now.
“I love you,” she whispered, moaning softly as he drove deeper. “Grant, oh… It feels … so… good.”
Too good. Grace wasn’t going to last much longer; her orgasm was cresting, getting ready to break free and crash through her. She had to wonder whether or not she was going to survive something like this. This was more than sex, more than an intense climax… This was emotional overload and…
“Oh, God, Grant!” Grace’s orgasm overwhelmed her, her legs locking around him as she held him to her.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me,” Grant said, his tone soft and low. “Gracie … baby…”
Grace hadn’t even begun to come down from the overwhelming force when Grant’s body stilled, his cock pulsing inside her, his breaths slamming in and out of his lungs in a rhythm that matched her own.
A few minutes later, with the sweat cooling on their bodies, Grace still didn’t want to move. Grant was sliding out of her, the disappearing warmth of his body leaving her chilled. She watched as he disappeared from the room, returning a moment later with a washcloth that he used to clean her before disappearing once again.
The next time he returned to the bed, Grace was eager to settle against him, already missing the strong feel of his body.
“I love you, Gracie,” Grant whispered several minutes later as Grace lay with her head resting on his arm, her leg protectively lying over his leg. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
“I love you, too,” she responded, feeling the sudden tensing of his muscles. He must’ve thought she was asleep. “And don’t worry, we’ll get through this. I’ll make sure of that.”
With that final statement, Grace drifted off, feeling more content than she had in some time. The only thing missing was Lane, and although she desperately wished he were there, she knew that she and Grant had needed this.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Saturday morning
Saturdays were just like any other day of the week at Dead Heat Ranch. The day often reserved for time off wasn’t any different from Monday through Friday when it came to caring for animals or taking care of visiting guests. They tried to make sure everyone had at least one full day off during the week, but most of the crew would agree that Saturday wasn’t that day. For once, Lane was glad today wasn’t his day because he’d probably go stir crazy without something to do.
Since he had walked out of Grant’s house last night, he hadn’t talked to him. When he’d woken that morning, he’d noticed that he had received a text from both of them. Grant’s had been simple: I’m sorry. I want to talk. Gracie’s had been similar, short and sweet.
And for the first time since everything had gone down last night, Lane had actually felt a smidgeon of hope where their relationship was concerned. She didn’t tell him that she loved him, but her text eluded to her wanting to tell him something. Something she said she should’ve said a long time ago.
Lane’s hope had soared high and far at that point, but now it was almost ten o’clock in the morning, and he hadn’t seen either of them.
Not that he’d been looking.
Before the sun had even broken over the horizon, Lane had shuffled out of bed, snuck over to the kitchen at the main house, and grabbed a cup of coffee before coming out to the stables to hang out with Dixie and her pups. Budweiser had been there to greet him, and for the last hour, Lane had been sitting on the ground, his back against the wood wall, his knees bent, as he stared at the metal roof and let the squirmy little dogs walk all over him. He didn’t care whether or not he looked like a fucking pansy playing with the dogs, either. It was the only thing he could think of that would possibly make him feel better.
Aside from going to see Gracie and Grant.
Since that wasn’t an option — Lane refused to be the one to grovel at their feet — here he was.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Lane jerked his head up at the sound of the voice, but he didn’t see anyone peering in the stall at him. He knew the voice belonged to Grant, but Lane was pretty sure Grant wasn’t talking to him.
“Sure,” another voice said.
Yep, he was right. Grant wasn’t talking to him.
Hmm. What to do. What to do. Should he get up, make his presence known, and leave so the two of them could have a conversation in private? Or should he just sit right there and let them carry on, none the wiser?
Drumming his fingers on his thigh, he considered his options. Lane decided that he didn’t care much whether they knew he was blatantly eavesdropping just a few feet away, so he remained right there in the small pen with the puppies nipping at his fingers and his shirt while he listened to the conversation on the other side of the wall without one ounce of guilt.
Served Grant right for not stopping him from walking out last night.
“Faith came to me the other night,” Grant said.
Faith? What the hell was Faith going to Grant for?
“And?”
Lane peeked through the slats in the stall wall, trying to see who Grant was talking to.
Well, well, well.
Rusty Ashmore.
Ahh. Well, that made sense why Grant was mentioning Faith, at least.
“She wanted me to talk to you.”
“Is that right?” Rusty stated, sounding none too thrilled with Grant’s revelation.
“Hold up. Before you get all butt-hurt, let me explain.”
Lane knew Rusty. He liked the guy. Rusty was one of the newbies to the ranch, having only been there for roughly a year. Maybe.
In their world, with so many tenured wranglers at the ranch, one year was the equivalent of two weeks. But in Rusty’s defense, he knew his stuff. He worked his ass off, didn’t complain, and didn’t make excuses. All around, he was one hell of a wrangler. Aside from his work ethic, Lane knew the guy was young, twenty-five as of his last birthday a couple of months ago, which they’d all celebrated by getting plastered at the main house, trying to best one another at pool. To this day, Lane had no idea who’d won.
Betting on Grace Page 24