by Cindy Kirk
“Looks like you’re all set,” he said. “I’ll get those papers to you by next week.”
“Thanks. I’m not worried about them. Whenever it’s good for you.”
Was she blushing? Her face felt warm. Oh, how she hoped she wasn’t blushing.
“Well.” Chet’s smile grew a little. “Good luck to you and Grant when you unload the horse.”
She gave him a quick nod before opening the door to the cab and climbing in. Grant was already on the passenger’s side, but she didn’t look in his direction. Her plan was to wait until her embarrassment cooled.
She kept her speed under fifteen miles an hour on the long dirt driveway. No point jostling River around any more than necessary. No point filling the cab with dust either, since both of their windows were open.
When they reached the highway, she stopped and looked both ways. This was a quiet stretch of road, but she never took chances when it came to her horses.
“Clear this way,” Grant said as he stared north.
“Thanks.”
The road was clear to the south as well. She stepped on the gas and pulled onto the highway.
After a few minutes of silence, Grant said, “Buck told me you put on quite a shindig for Charity last weekend.”
“I didn’t do all that much.”
“Not what I heard.”
They were simple words that felt like a huge compliment, and her heart fluttered with pleasure. She decided to change the subject. “Is the town where you grew up as small as Kings Meadow?”
“Definitely. A wide spot in the road is more like it. Care to hear how I walked to school through the snow, ten miles and uphill both ways?”
She laughed. “No.”
“Shucks. I thought that story might impress you. It worked for my dad and granddad.”
“You’ll have to try something else to impress me, then.” Like kiss me.
The thought made her go tingly all over. She’d never felt like this about a guy. She’d had boyfriends, of course. But this was different. Did Grant feel it too?
What was it about being in Skye’s company that made Grant feel like a million bucks? Since meeting her, she’d been his first thought when he awakened in the mornings and his final thought when he fell asleep at night. And ever since their dinner together, he’d thought of her most of the hours between waking and sleeping as well.
His dad had told him once that when Grant met the girl, he would know it. At the time Grant hadn’t believed there was such a thing as the girl. At the time he hadn’t thought he’d ever want to settle down with any woman. Why limit himself to one entrée when he could try every choice at the all-you-can-eat buffet?
But once again, the man who’d thought that way was BC Grant. He’d changed, and the way he looked at women had changed. And something about Skye Foster was changing him even more. For the first time in his life, marriage wasn’t a remote possibility.
Hold your horses. You hardly know her.
He looked over at Skye as she slowed the truck before turning onto a narrow, winding road that took them closer to the mountains. A few minutes later, she pulled into an area where the wild grasses had been flattened by truck and trailer wheels. Not exactly a parking lot, but the next best thing.
When Skye got out of the truck, a couple of horses in the nearby pasture came trotting toward the wood and barbed-wire fence. Arriving at the gate, the brown-and-white paint nickered a welcome.
“Snickers?” Grant asked as he closed the passenger’s door behind him.
“Yes.” She went to the gate and stroked the gelding’s head. “I’ve brought you a friend, boy. Think you can show him the ropes?”
The Appaloosa thrust her head over the top of the gate too. Skye moved to the mare and repeated the stroking motions. “You’ll be nice to him. Right?”
Grant slipped his iPhone from his shirt pocket. It didn’t make calls most anywhere in Kings Meadow—no cellular company thought it worthwhile to invest in this area off the beaten path—but that’s not what he wanted it for. The phone had a great camera. He held it out in front of him, pointed it toward Skye and her horses, and snapped several pictures.
She looked at him, smiling. “What are you doing?”
“Taking pictures.”
“I know that. But why?”
He strode over to her and held the screen so she could see the last photo. “Because you are in your element.”
Her gaze lifted to meet his, but she didn’t speak. After a few seconds, her eyes widened and her smile faded.
It was hard not to focus on her mouth, harder still not to lean down and kiss her. He hadn’t known her long enough to do that. The old Grant wouldn’t have cared that it was too early in their relationship. If he kissed a girl and scared her away, no worries. He would meet someone else soon enough. But the man he was today cared a lot. He wanted to do everything right, and he sure didn’t want to risk losing her before he’d had a chance to see where these feelings of his might go.
Clearing his throat, he took a step back. “Shall we get River unloaded?” He returned the iPhone to his pocket.
“Yes. Let’s.” Her reply had a breathless quality.
For the second time, he had to fight back the urge to kiss her.
Looking at the ground, she hurried past him. Had she sensed his desire? Had he blown it already?
Skye didn’t wait for Grant to join her before lowering the gate and stepping into the trailer. River came out with the same ease as he’d entered. The blue roan might be young and have lots of training still ahead of him, but he had intelligence and a calm nature. That boded well for both horse and rider.
Grant went to the pasture gate and unlatched it while Skye led her new gelding toward him. “Snickers,” he said. “Milky Way. Get back. Get back now.” He slowly swung the gate inward, keeping his eyes on the two horses. But they seemed willing to wait until River was set free before crowding in to inspect him.
Skye led the blue roan several yards beyond the gate before stopping, patting his neck, and saying something Grant couldn’t make out. Then she turned the horse loose. He trotted a short distance away. Head high, he whinnied. Snickers replied and walked toward the newcomer. Milky Way held her distance.
“Looks like they’re gonna get along fine,” Grant said.
Skye glanced in his direction and nodded.
“Do you own this property?”
“No,” she answered as she returned to the gate. “I rent it. Dad and Mom used to have some land south of town where we kept our horses when I was growing up. But they had to sell it when the economy took a downturn. That time was hard on a lot of folks around here.”
“Your mom’s a beautician—”
“Stylist,” she interrupted. “If you call Mom a beautician, it makes her feel old.”
He grinned at her. “Stylist. Sorry. Definitely don’t want to make your mom feel old. She wouldn’t like me much. What does your dad do?”
“He teaches history at the junior high school and coaches track-and-field.”
“So you’re a teacher like your dad?”
Her expression said she was pleased by the comparison he’d made. “Not quite like my dad. He had to get his college degree to do what he does. I just took dance lessons every year from the time I was six until I was seventeen.”
“What kind of dance?”
“All kinds. Tap. Ballet. Ballroom. Country. Miss Cooper taught everything.” As she spoke, she walked to the back of her truck and began to unhook the trailer. “My dance teacher was really great. I was never going to be a prima ballerina or anything, but she wasn’t after perfection from her students. She simply wanted to impart the joy of dance.”
“From what I’ve seen, she succeeded.”
Grant stepped forward to help lift the trailer off the hitch. When his hands landed on the bar beside hers, she looked up, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Surprise and something more. Their heads were close. To kiss her, all he needed to do was s
way forward a few inches. But before he could take action, she looked down again. With a strong yank, she freed the trailer from the hitch without his help.
Next time, Miss Foster. Next time I get the chance to kiss you, I’m taking it.
On the following Saturday, the groom, best man, and four groomsmen—including Grant—climbed into Ken Malone’s minivan. They were on their way to be fitted for morning jackets and all the accessories—trousers, shirt, waistcoat, pocket square, and cravat—for the wedding. Grant had been in enough of his siblings’ weddings to know what to expect once they got to the men’s store in Boise. But none of their weddings had been quite as formal as the Anderson-Malone wedding would be. Wearing tails would be a first for Grant.
The Malone brothers sat in the front of the automobile, Ken driving and Buck in the passenger’s seat. Behind them were Grant and Tom Butler, the Methodist minister. Buck’s soon-to-be brother-in-law, Rick Jansen—who’d driven to Kings Meadow from Sun Valley that morning—had the third row of seats to himself. From all appearances, Rick planned to sleep until they reached their destination.
Once on the highway, with Ken and Buck talking baseball, Grant said to Tom, “I guess you don’t find yourself serving as a groomsman very often.”
“It’s a first, actually. I’m enjoying the experience.”
“Even the dance lessons?”
Tom chuckled. “Even the dance lessons. But we’re all sorry you can’t be there the same night as the rest of us.”
“It’s okay. Skye and I found a time that works for both of us.” He schooled his features, trying not to sound overly interested. “She goes to your church, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does. All the Fosters do. Good family.”
Grant nodded as his gaze drifted out the window at the passing terrain. His thoughts drifted too. Back to Kings Meadow. Back to Skye. It had only been three days since he’d gone with her under the pretense of helping unload her new horse, but those three days had seemed extra long.
Why didn’t I pick up the phone and call her?
He’d wanted to. It almost scared him how much he’d wanted to. He’d never felt this way before, as if he were headed over a waterfall in a raft, not knowing if he would survive the drop but willing to take the risk because of what he might find at the bottom. Skye liked him. He was fairly certain of that. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her by moving too fast. By coming on too strong.
By kissing her too soon.
Her image filled his mind. Did she look like the kind of gal who would spook that easy? The question made him grin.
Not on your life.
On her knees, Skye scrubbed the shower grout with a toothbrush. Attacked it, more like. Frustration had been building in her for the past three days, and she was letting it out with a fit of cleaning.
She’d been certain Grant would call her. But her home phone hadn’t rung on Thursday or Friday. It had been just as silent this morning.
Maybe I misread him.
No. No, she hadn’t misread Grant. He was attracted to her. Maybe she was a little out of practice. She hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in a while. But she hadn’t lost her senses completely. She knew when a guy was interested. Grant Nichols was interested.
Maybe he’s shy.
No, that didn’t make sense either. He wasn’t shy around her. Not at all. He was friendly and inquisitive. And when he looked at her—
Pleasure skittered up her spine at the memory.
Skye sat back on her heels, and with the back of her rubber glove she pushed her bangs off her forehead.
“I like him so much,” she whispered. Then she straightened, eyes widening. “Maybe he doesn’t know I like him.”
As if in response, the long-awaited ring of the telephone came to her from the other end of the house. She shot to her feet, yanking off the rubber gloves and dropping them in the sink before rushing out of the bathroom and down the hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed the phone without even taking time to check the caller ID.
“Hello?” She squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath, hoping.
“Hi, Skye.”
Disappointment sliced through her at the familiar voice. “Hi, Charity.”
“I was wondering, would it be all right if Mom and Dad joined our group on Tuesday nights? I know they didn’t sign up for the lessons. They go dancing all the time as it is. But now Mom says it sounds like we’re having too much fun without them.”
“Sure. They’re welcome to come. Everybody can get better with a few lessons, even if they know what they’re doing.”
“Terrific. And while I’ve got you on the phone, can I just say thanks again for the bridal shower? It was so much fun. Buck says the bride’s the one who gets to have all the fun.” Charity laughed softly. “I gave him a couple of twenties and told him not to party too hard while he and the guys are in Boise.”
What guys? Skye pressed the receiver tighter against her ear. “What’s he doing in Boise?”
“Today’s the day they all get fitted for their morning suits.”
“Grant too? I thought he worked on Saturdays.”
“Mmm. I guess Chet gave him the day off. I’m glad, ’cause it will be good to mark this off the wedding to-do list.”
Skye’s entire body seemed to lighten. Grant was with Buck and the other groomsmen. He couldn’t or wouldn’t call her when he was down in Boise. Of course, that didn’t explain away the silence of the phone on Thursday and Friday, but Grant worked two jobs. Perhaps he’d tried to call her when she wasn’t in. Some people didn’t like to leave messages. Maybe he was one of them.
“Skye? Are you still there?”
“What? Yes. Yes, I’m still here. Something was . . . about to boil over on the stove.” She winced as the lie slipped off her tongue. “Sorry.”
“Sounds like you’re busy. I won’t keep you any longer. See you Tuesday.”
“See you Tuesday. Bye.”
Skye returned the handset to the phone cradle but didn’t move away from the kitchen counter. There wasn’t much point hanging around the house, waiting for the phone to ring again. Not with Grant in Boise for what sounded like at least several hours.
The grout could wait. She needed some fresh air.
Grant wasn’t a tuxedo or morning suit kind of guy. But he had to admit the party of men looked handsome in gray tailcoats and trousers with accents of lavender.
As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he wondered if this was the type of wedding Skye Foster would want. Not him. If he ever got married, he would want it to be by a cowboy preacher with the wedding party and guests all on horseback. Maybe have a big barbecue for the reception.
He gave his head a shake, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts. He and Skye hadn’t even had an official date yet. They were a long ways from romance, and even if romance happened between them, they were still a long ways from talk of a wedding—if that time ever came.
“I’ve got everything I need, Mr. Nichols,” the tailor said, holding out his hands toward Grant’s shoulders to help remove the jacket.
“Thanks.” He shrugged out of the tailcoat, then went into a nearby dressing room. It didn’t take long to shed the rest of the wedding finery and get back into jeans, boots, and cotton shirt. Funny, how much more himself he felt with the right clothes on.
When he came out of the dressing room, he found the other men waiting for him.
“Lunch is on Charity,” Buck said with a grin. “Where do you want to eat?”
Ken suggested a popular pizza parlor on State Street.
As they headed for the car, Tom said, “Buck, now that it’s getting closer, how do you think you’ll like living down here?”
“I’ve gotten used to the idea,” Buck answered. “I’m no fan of the traffic, but since both Charity and I will be working out of the home, I guess we can avoid the worst of it. And we’ll be back in Kings Meadow from spring until after hunting season.”
“Sounds
like a good compromise.”
“It was an easy one to make, once I realized how much I loved her.”
Up to that moment, Grant had only listened with half an ear. But now Buck’s remark reminded him of something his brother Vince had said to him some years ago. “I’d do anything for Segunda. You know, climb the highest mountain. Swim the deepest sea. Just so long as she agrees to marry me.”
He pictured Skye once again. Would he want to climb the highest mountain and swim the deepest sea for her? He’d been on his own for a long time. He hadn’t needed to make any compromises. He’d only had himself to think about. Was he ready to put someone else’s needs ahead of his own?
He didn’t know the answers, but he intended to figure them out. The sooner, the better.
Skye glanced at her watch and quickened her pace. She was late for church. Again. The congregation would be singing the opening hymn by now. She would have to slip into the back and hope nobody noticed her tardiness.
Rounding the corner, she looked toward the front doors of the church. Her heart flip-flopped. Grant Nichols stood on the steps. His jeans looked new, his black hat obviously one he kept nice for dress occasions. When he saw her, he came down the steps to await her.
“I thought maybe you weren’t coming,” he said as she drew near.
“I’m late.” As if he didn’t know that already.
Voices raised in song drifted through the closed doors.
He grinned, his eyes saying, You’re right. I already knew you were late.
“What are you doing here?” That sounded rude. “I mean, don’t you go to Meadow Fellowship?”
Grant shrugged. “I thought it was about time I heard Tom preach. Mind if I sit with you?”
Oh, the hammering of her heart. Could he hear it above the singing from inside?
“No,” she answered in a breathless voice. “I don’t mind. But we’d better hurry.”
He cupped her elbow with his hand and guided her up the steps, opening the door with his free hand. She slipped into the shadowy narthex, and he followed right behind. Just as they were about to move into the sanctuary, the strains of the amen filled the air.