by Cindy Kirk
“What do you call him?” she asked once she’d made her full circle and now stood looking into the horse’s eyes.
“Nana Anna dubbed him River when he was a yearling. Said he’s the same blue-gray color of the boulders and rocks that line the rivers up here. The name stuck.”
As if knowing the humans were discussing him, River shook his head and snorted.
“He’s glorious.” Skye rubbed his muzzle.
Chet said, “Thought you’d like him.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Grant spoke. “I remember the first time I saw this guy. That same summer when Ms. McKenna named him River. If he’d been for sale back then, I’d’ve bought him myself. If I could’ve scraped together the money, that is.”
Skye turned, and when her gaze met with Grant’s, she felt the strangest connection with him. Because they both liked the blue roan? Or was it something more?
Chet took a long step back from the horse. “I haven’t listed him for sale yet. For a while I thought one of my boys might want him for rodeo events. He’s championship material. But they’ll both be in college come August, and they won’t be here to take on the training of a new horse. So now it’s time to sell him. I’d just like him to go to someone who knows what they’re doing.” He looked at Skye. “Somebody like you.”
She knew then that Chet was going to offer her an incredible deal for the three-year-old gelding. She wouldn’t have to look elsewhere or settle for a horse she didn’t like quite as much as this beautiful blue roan. She would want to ride him first, put him through his paces, but she knew in her heart what her answer would be.
“Hey,” Grant said. “Skye and River. River and Skye. With those names, I’d say you two were meant to be together.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to her, but it seemed to confirm everything else she’d been feeling. She smiled at Grant, grateful, as if he’d given her some sort of gift.
But she couldn’t begin to describe what the grin he sent back made her feel. It was simply . . . amazing.
Skye opened the last of the blinds on the front windows of her dance studio, letting in the late-afternoon sunlight, then paused for a moment to capture her hair in a ponytail. Before she moved away, she saw Grant pull up to the curb in his Jeep.
It can’t be that time already.
She glanced toward the big clock opposite the wall of mirrors. Grant was fifteen minutes early. She wasn’t ready for him yet. Still, it pleased her that he appeared eager to start the lessons, despite his so-called two left feet.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. When he saw her, he grinned. “I’m early.”
She had the same indescribable reaction to his smile that she’d experienced yesterday. “I noticed.” She turned and headed for the iHome stereo, needing a little distance so she could think straight again. “You’ll have to wait while I get organized. Tell me. What kind of music do you like?”
“Country, mostly. And I listen to a lot of praise music when I’m cooking by myself.”
Grant Nichols was an interesting combination, Skye thought as she scrolled through her iPod. He had an eye for horses, according to Chet, and he had the look of a real cowboy. Something more than the clothes he wore. A kind of western inner attitude. He made his living in the kitchen and made no apologies for it as some men would. However, he was ashamed of his dancing abilities. Still, because of his friendship with the groom, he was willing to try to change that.
And how cool is it that he listens to praise music while he works?
She stopped scrolling and selected a Vince Gill album. An extra-slow waltz number was in order for this first lesson, and this album had one that was about seventy beats per minute. Perfect for a novice. When it was ready to play, she turned toward Grant again.
“We’re going to start with the country waltz. Ever done it?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“Okay. Just a few basics. We’ll count it out like this: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.” She went to stand in front of him. “No leaning forward. Keep your own balance. Imagine a string pulling you up from the top of your head.” She put her right hand in his left, then positioned his right hand on her back. “Your knees shouldn’t be stiff. We want to compress into the floor so that our actions are nice and smooth as we move in a circle.”
Confusion filled his eyes. “Compress into the floor? What does that mean?”
“Just keep your knees flexible. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“What about spins and going backward?”
She smiled, hoping to encourage him. “That’s a ways off. All we want right now is to glide. Let’s try it without music first, shall we? I’ll count off six, and then we’ll begin on the next one. Okay?”
He nodded. His hand tightened on hers. To the point of pain.
“Relax your grip, Grant. You’re going to do fine.”
He released a humorless laugh.
She counted to six, then, “And one—”
Grant’s boot came down hard on her toes.
Ouch! Somehow she managed to only think the word, but she couldn’t keep from wincing.
He froze in place. “See. I told you. I’m a lost cause when it comes to dancing.”
“Mr. Nichols.” Skye showed him her best serious-teacher expression. The one she’d perfected for her elementary school students. “Do you give up so easily on everything you try?”
“What? No. But this is different. I’ve tried this before.”
“Not with me you haven’t.”
Grant opened his mouth as if to say more, then closed it.
Skye smiled at him. “Very good. Let’s try again. One. Two. Three . . .”
The lesson didn’t end up being the worst experience of Grant’s life, although it hadn’t ranked up near the top of his best experiences either. He hadn’t battered and bruised his teacher. Not to an extreme degree, at any rate. She could still walk to the stereo after the final dance. They could both be thankful for that.
Music off, Skye turned toward him. “That went well.”
And she said it with a straight face.
Grant about choked on a laugh. When he recovered, he said, “You’re cute when you lie, Skye Foster.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. If he’d insulted her—
Her laughter spilled forth unabated. Not insulted. Amused.
Everything about Skye seemed wonderful to him. Her sense of humor. Her glorious smile. Her boundless energy. Those expressive, big brown eyes. Her luxurious black hair. Sure, he didn’t know lots about her yet, but that was the great part. He couldn’t wait to learn more. To get to know her better and better.
“Would you have dinner with me, Skye? Tonight at the Tamarack.”
Her smile faded by degrees.
His heart felt like it might break in the same way. “Sorry. Maybe you’re involved with someone else. I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” she answered, the word breathy. “There’s no one else, Grant. And I’d like to have dinner with you.”
Relief rushed through him. “Great. I don’t eat out often. I already spend a lot of time at the restaurant, cooking. And it’s not much fun to eat out alone.”
“I know. I feel the same way.”
“Do you?” He couldn’t imagine why she would ever have to eat alone. The men of Kings Meadow must all be married, engaged, or blind. That was the only explanation that made sense to him.
“Give me a minute to close things up. Or I can meet you there if you’d rather. My truck’s parked in the back.”
No way was he leaving the studio without her. “I’ll wait for you. We can go in my Jeep, and I’ll bring you back afterward.”
Grant leaned a shoulder against the wall and watched as she closed the blinds, checked the lock on the back door, and turned off the lights. All of that done, she removed the band that had held her hair in a ponytail and let it tumble free.
Like
an ebony waterfall.
He nearly chuckled at the thought. He wasn’t a poetic sort of guy, but Skye seemed to bring it out in him. She made him feel things he’d never felt before.
“Okay.” She turned to face him. “I’m ready.”
He pushed off the wall. “All right.” Outside, he took the key from her hand and poked it into the lock, turning the deadbolt in the door. Then he escorted her to his Jeep and helped her into the passenger’s side.
The drive to the Tamarack Grill didn’t take much more than five minutes, and since it was still early, the waitress—Cynthia Rogers—offered them their choice of seating.
“Outside?” Grant asked Skye.
She nodded.
“Follow me,” Cynthia said with a smile.
The interior of the restaurant had a rugged, western motif. Varnished logs, complete with bark, had been used as supports throughout. The floor was made of large planks of wood, possibly pulled from an old barn. Definitely not the usual hardwood flooring used in homes. Instead of paintings, rusty farm utensils, ropes with frayed ends, and antique spurs hung on the walls. Even a couple of pans used in gold mining. There was a bar on the far right side of the large room, but the entire restaurant—inside and out—was smoke free.
When Grant started working at the Tamarack upon his arrival in Kings Meadow, the menu had been heavy with deep fat fried foods. Little by little he’d managed to convince the owner to add some more innovative choices. Not that he didn’t like a burger and fries himself every now and then.
The outdoor seating overlooked the gurgling creek that ran through town. Trees lined the banks of the stream, their leaves applauding in a light breeze. Plenty of shade made the area pleasant, even on a warm summer’s day.
At their table, Grant held out a chair for Skye and then went to the opposite side to take his own seat. He could have sat on either side of her, but he wanted an easy view of his companion while they talked and ate.
“Would either of you care for something from the bar?”
Grant glanced at Skye, who shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“Anything besides water?”
He looked at Skye a second time.
“Iced tea,” she answered.
“I’ll have the same.”
Cynthia scribbled on her pad, then grinned at him. “Back in a jiff.”
When they were alone again, Skye leaned forward and said in a near whisper, “She likes you.”
“Cynthia?” He shook his head. “No. Just friends.”
“Hmm.”
Now seemed a good time to change the subject. “So tell me about yourself, Skye. Have you always lived in Kings Meadow?”
“Yes. Except for a couple of years when I was at BSU. I didn’t go back my junior year.” She shrugged. “There wasn’t anything I wanted to do except teach dance and race barrels, so I decided to open my studio. I’ll go back and get a degree eventually. Just not yet. What about you? What brought you here?”
“Long story. I wanted to leave Montana, and a friend of a friend of a friend told me the Tamarack Grill needed a new cook.”
Curiosity filled her eyes. “Why did you want to leave?”
Another long story, one he wished he didn’t have to tell. But the truth was the truth. He was stuck with his past. “I was a bit of a hell-raiser in my teens and early twenties. More than a bit, really. Caused my folks all kinds of grief. But when I finally reached the end of my rope”—he paused and looked toward the creek for a moment before continuing—“When I reached the end of my rope, I found Jesus waiting for me there. I was different after I let Him take control, but I wanted to move to a place where not everybody knew what I’d been like before.”
Skye had been raised by parents who were Bible-believing Christians, and she’d become one herself at a young age. She was used to talking about God over a meal or at a Bible study. But it wasn’t often she met a guy who introduced faith into a conversation this early in a relationship.
Relationship? That might be rushing things. She wasn’t sure this could even be called a first date. It had happened so last minute.
“I didn’t plan to stay in Kings Meadow for long,” Grant continued. “But I liked it here. Right from the start, I liked it. Felt at home. Like it was a place where I could put down roots and change my old ways. I made some good friends, like Buck Malone and Chet Leonard. Men I respect. And now that I’m also working as the lead chef for Ultimate Adventures, I reckon I’ll stick around.”
“I’m glad.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but she couldn’t take it back. “Do you still have family in Montana?”
“Do I ever.”
“What does that mean?”
“Really want to know?”
She nodded, her curiosity piqued.
“Okay.” He held up his left hand in a fist. “My brother Vince is the oldest. I’m next.” Up went his index finger, then his middle finger. “We’re followed by Martina, Chelsea, Ridley”—He held up his right hand too—“the twins, Tommy and Tina, then Joshua, Brittany, and finally Heather, the youngest. She’s sixteen.” All fingers and thumbs were now extended.
“Ten of you? Wow.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled softly. “‘Wow’ kind of describes it.”
“Anybody made you an uncle yet?”
“I’ll say. Fourteen nieces and nephews. The oldest of them is ten. And there are two more on the way.”
Skye swallowed a second wow, but she couldn’t swallow the envy she felt. “Your family get-togethers must be something.”
“You have no idea.”
He was right about that. She had no idea what it would be like. Neither of her parents had siblings, and her brother and sister, although both married, seemed in no hurry to give their mother the grandchildren she longed for. There were no large family reunions, and there never had been any because there wasn’t a large extended family. Just a small group of five. No, she had no idea what it would be like to have nine siblings and fourteen nieces and nephews. But she would like to know.
Maybe she could find out with Grant.
A yummy, warm feeling spread all through her, and she was afraid she would blush and give away her thoughts.
But Cynthia returned with their iced teas and stayed to take their dinner orders. It gave Skye enough time to pull herself together. After that, their conversation turned to horses, followed throughout the meal by a variety of other topics.
For Skye, getting to know someone had never felt this special.
On Wednesday afternoon, Skye hitched the horse trailer to her truck and drove out to the Leonard Ranch. Once there, she presented Chet with a cashier’s check that represented every last cent she’d had in savings—and more than a few pennies from her checking account as well. Then she put a halter on River and led the gelding out of the paddock and into the barnyard.
Before she had a chance to open the back of the trailer, the sound of an approaching vehicle drew her attention around. Her heart skipped a beat or two at the sight of the familiar Jeep. Only then did she realize she’d hoped she would see Grant while she was at the ranch.
She waved at him and smiled. Through the dusty windshield she saw him grin in return.
He stopped the Jeep a good distance away and hopped out. “This is the day, huh?” He set a hat on his head.
“Yeah. This is it.”
“He’s a beauty.” Grant strode toward her, but he looked at Chet. “We’re done up there until suppertime, boss. I’ll head back up at four.”
“Sounds good,” Chet answered.
Grant’s gaze swung back to Skye. “Want some help loading him?”
Skye didn’t need help getting this horse or any horse into a trailer. Not even ornery ones. But she said, “Sure. Thanks.”
Grant lowered the gate of the trailer to the ground, then stepped out of the way as Skye led River toward the ramp. The horse eyed the trailer with suspicion. She prepa
red for a refusal. But at the last moment River walked up the ramp as if he’d been getting in and out of trailers every day of his life.
“I should’ve known that’s how you’d be,” she said softly, patting the horse’s neck.
Grant leaned his shoulder against the back of the trailer and looked inside. “A lot of help I was.”
“It was nice of you to offer anyway.” She secured River’s lead rope, gave the gelding another pat, and then headed out of the trailer.
Grant lifted the gate and latched it closed.
Ask me out again, Skye thought as she stared at his back. Ask me, please.
He turned around and smiled that easy smile of his. “How’d the lesson go?”
“The lesson?”
“Last night. With the rest of the wedding party. Any left feet in that group as bad as mine?”
“Not quite that bad,” she said, somehow keeping her expression bland.
“Ouch!”
“I know. Ouch!”
Face toward the heavens, he laughed. It was a great laugh. Full of honest delight. Skye felt pleasure clear down to her toes.
Grant bumped the brim of his hat with his knuckles, pushing it higher on his forehead. “Why don’t I ride along with you? Just in case River gives you more trouble getting out than he did going in.”
His help wouldn’t be needed, and they both knew it. But it pleased Skye that he’d given her an almost plausible excuse for him to join her. Besides, his spontaneity was one of the things she liked about him. Just one of an increasing number of things she liked about him.
“Sure,” she answered. “I wouldn’t mind a little backup. Just in case.”
“Want me to follow in my Jeep so you don’t have to bring me back?”
She shook her head. “No. It isn’t that far. I’ll bring you back.”
“Great.”
While Grant went to the right, Skye rounded the left corner of the trailer, headed for the cab of her pickup. She stopped when she saw Chet standing not far off, a knowing smile curving his mouth. She’d completely forgotten he was there.