She had spent the rest of her day racking her brains, trying to determine all of the things that simple statement could have meant. All day and she could still only think of one thing. Sex. Was that what he meant when he promised her a workout after the sun went down?
Her entire body tingled at the prospect. She could almost feel his fingers moving over her body, caressing her, teasing her, touching her until she wanted to scream. She could still taste his kiss, even days later, and her mouth actually watered at the idea of kissing him again. The anticipation felt so good it was almost paralyzing, and she was grateful for the sound of a knock at her door.
“Hello?” she called, hurrying out of her bedroom and towards the front hall. There was no answer, only that knocking again and by the time she got the damned door open she was more on edge than ever.
“Nate! Oh my God, you’re all dressed up!”
"Nah," he answered nonchalantly, his hands in the pockets of his dark, pressed slacks and his white button-down shirt pulling slightly over his pecs, "I just clean up nice, that's all."
“You definitely do,” she answered, stepping aside so that he could come in, “but what for?”
"I want to take you to something," he answered as if it was an answer that told her anything she actually wanted to know.
“Um, where? It doesn’t look like the gym…” she said doubtfully, giving his fancy clothes another once-over.
“The gym?” he laughed, “No, what makes you say that?”
“Nothing,” she answered quickly, flushing fiercely. She pretended to be busy with a picture on her hallway wall, acting as though it was crooked in order to keep him from getting a good look at her face. She had a feeling that if he saw her expression, he might know what she had been thinking, and that was just too mortifying.
“Okay,” he said, giving her a curious look but not pressing matters any further, “well, it’s not the gym. There’s a party tonight, and I need to be there. I think you need to be there too.”
“A party,” she repeated. She felt stupid, felt one step behind everything Nate was saying.
“That’s right, a party. It’s a media event kind of thing. They rented out one of those big plantation houses on the outskirts of town. A lot of important people are going to be there.”
“Important people, huh?” she asked, stalling, not wanting to give an answer, “Then are you sure I’m the right person to have around?”
"More than sure," he asserted, "positive. All you need to do is put on a dress, and we can head out the door. If you think you're up for it, that is."
“Is that a challenge, Nate Grant?” she asked, smiling despite the nerves now jangling her entire body.
"You bet your sweet ass it is," he grinned, grabbing for her and giving her a long, deep kiss. By the time he let her go, Athena hardly knew which way was up and which way was down. One thing she knew for sure, she was going to the damned party. She didn't like the idea, had never been much for parties, let alone fancy ones, but she was going. No matter what was going on between her and Nate, she wasn't going to let him get the best of her. There wasn't a chance in hell that she was going to let him win.
* * *
"Do I look okay?" Athena asked for what felt like the millionth time. She watched Nate's face closely, wanting to make reasonably sure that whatever response he gave was a genuine one. When she saw the way his eyes lit up, his pupils dilating, his lips twitching a little, she blushed happily. It was a constant struggle not to be insecure, but it got even harder when she was going to fancy parties on the arm of a rodeo star. Or when she was going to be sitting down to give interviews, which Nate had informed her would come later in the evening. She had done enough of her own digging when it came to Nate to know that she wasn't the typical model-type he chose to spend his evenings with. She believed that he was attracted to her, but she couldn't help wondering how she compared to the women he'd been with before.
"Honey, you can ask me that question a thousand times, and I'm going to give you the same answer each and every one. You look fantastic. If there's a word that means more than fantastic, that's what you are. Seriously, Moore—”
“No way, Nate,” she interrupted, holding in a warning finger despite her grin, “none of that. We’re amongst the important people now. You said so.”
“That I did,” he answered, pulling her closer and running a mischievous hand up the back of her little black dress. She plucked his fingers away but remained close. Truth be told, she wanted him to try again. She wanted to feel his warm, strong fingers tracing the length of her spine.
“Exactly,” she said, nodding her head decisively, “and I want them to take me seriously, so if it’s not too much to ask, could you just use my first name for once in your life?”
“All right, fine. I’ll do it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he muttered, his face set in a perfect imitation of the one Gretta made when she wasn’t getting her way. Athena threw back her head and laughed, the kind of laughter that didn’t happen every day. It made her tingle all over. It made her wonder what kinds of plans Nate might have for them once the party was over, but she shook her head, doing her best to banish the thoughts as soon as they appeared. All playing aside, there really were people she needed to impress here, and thinking about what it would be like to go to bed with Nate wasn’t going to help her concentrate. She needed to keep her head in the game. The rest would come later.
“So, Mr. Grant,” she asked coyly, linking her arm through his and allowing him to lead her into the massive plantation home’s ballroom, “what’s the scoop? When do we have to sit down to those terrible interviews you mentioned earlier?”
“Hey, Athena, while we’re here, they’re not terrible. As far as these people are concerned, there’s nothing in the world you would rather be doing with your time.”
“Okay, I can play along with that,” she agreed, “but I would still like to know when they’re going to be. You know, so I can mentally prepare myself and everything.”
“That part comes a little later, honey,” he answered, leading her towards the middle of the floor, “no need to worry just yet. There’s still plenty of time for us to take a turn or two around the dance floor.”
He was just turning her towards him, sliding one arm around her waist and preparing to take her hand, when a tall, lean man appeared by Athena's side as if from thin air. One minute it was like she and Nate were the only two people in the room and the next, a complete stranger was practically stepping on her toes. She gasped and hopped backward, an ungraceful move that earned her some curious looks from her fellow party-goers. Nate took a step forward, and Athena noticed that he was frowning slightly.
“Can I help you?” he asked, holding onto Athena’s hand more tightly. The man smiled at Nate, then leered at Athena in a way that made her want to either hide or punch him in the stomach, she wasn’t sure which. The stranger held out one long, slim hand to shake. Nate took it and did so, albeit briefly, but Athena just looked at him. There was something about this guy that she didn’t like the look of.
"Mr. Grant, may I just say, first of all, that I’m such a fan of yours. I've been on the circuit for a long time, and I've always been interested in your career. Some folks said you were all talk and nothing to show for it, but you sure have proved them wrong, haven't you?" the man said, his words coming out in a rush.
“Do you compete in rodeos too?” Athena asked, looking from the man to Nate and then back to the man again.
“No,” Nate answered before the man could even open his mouth, “he doesn't. He’s a reporter. Camden something, am I right?”
"Why you certainly are, Mr. Grant! Camden Farmer, and might I just say, it's an honor to have you know me."
“I’m glad you think so, Camden,” Nate answered, not sounding very glad at all, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave us be, at least for the time being. I was assured that the first part of this event would be strictly no press.”
“Aw, come now, Mr. Grant,” Camden said in his best butter-won’t-melt voice, “what’s a little conversation amongst friends?”
“Is that why you don’t have a press badge then?” Nate asked, clearly not swayed in the slightest by the friends comment, “It is, isn’t it? You know you’re not supposed to be in here right now. You wouldn’t have gotten through the front door if security knew who you were. Maybe I should go and let them know.”
“I only want to ask a couple of questions,” Camden pressed, his face taking on a predatory look Athena didn’t like one bit, “just a few questions and then I’ll be on my way. For example, who’s the lovely lady?”
"Camden," Nate said, laughing in a way Athena knew immediately to be fake, "you're persistent, and I admire that in a man. I just think—”
“I’m only asking because she’s not really your type, is she? Are you considering going with something different? A lot of men do, you know, when they decide they’re ready to try and settle down.”
“Come on, Camden,” Nate said, his smile growing hard, “let’s just wait until it’s time for everyone to head to the press tents for the questions, what do you say?”
“And what about this competition?” the awful man continued, getting really excited now, “Should we be looking for some deeper meaning there? Some people are speculating—”
“Don’t you think this is a little bit demeaning?”
Nate's polite, falsely friendly words might not have been enough to shut Camden Farmer up, but Athena's turned out to have the power to do just that. For a moment, the man looked as though she had hauled off and hit him. His face first went as white as a sheet, then sported little blotches of color in the middle of his cheeks. If ever there had been an indignant man, this was him.
"I beg your pardon?" he spluttered. He sounded sincerely offended now as if he hadn't just been making thinly veiled insults. Athena crossed her arms over her chest and looked him dead in the eyes.
“Seriously, Mr. Farmer. Don’t you think it’s kind of pathetic to stay in a place where you’re so clearly not wanted, as if you’re begging for scraps?”
“Look, lady,” Camden answered, his voice flat and void of all of its former sly solicitousness, “you’re clearly new here. Maybe it’s best to let the people who understand what’s going on do the talking.”
“That’s funny,” she answered, “I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who knew what was going on. If you did, you would get that it’s time for you to move on.”
“But—”
“But nothing!” she shouted, finally losing her temper completely, “What about this are you not getting? People like you are disgusting, do you know that? Completely disgusting.”
“People like me?” he asked, his face beet red.
“Yes,” she snapped back, “people like you. Reporters. Anyone who thinks this stuff matters. It’s pathetic, is what it is. The people who buy into this stuff should get a life. They should go out and find real hobbies.”
Athena expected the man to lob another objection at her, or maybe to get downright angry, but he did neither of those things. Instead, a slow, nasty grin spread across his face. Athena’s stomach somersaulted sickly when she saw it. She didn’t know how, but she was pretty sure she had just made a mistake.
“Why don’t you think of this as a learning experience, sweetheart?” Camden said condescendingly, pulling a sleek metal tape recorder out of his pocket as he spoke, “You should always suck up to the reporters, even if you think they’re assholes. You don’t, and it can come back to bite you.”
"You may be right about that," Nate said, his voice hard, all of his professional agreeableness gone, "but she's not going to have to learn that lesson today. Give me that." Before Camden could stop him, Nate grabbed the tape recorder and hit erase. The reporter's face went so red it was almost purple as he grabbed for his device, but Nate held him off easily, making sure the entire encounter was vanished before he handed the recorder back. “If you want to complain to someone, feel free,” Nate commented blandly. “But then you’d have to explain why you were questioning and recording us during the no-press part of the event.”
“You two are going to regret this,” Camden spluttered, already taking large, shaky steps away from them, “you just see if you don’t.”
"I'm so sorry," Athena whispered as soon as he was gone. The flash of anger had overtaken her swiftly, too quickly for her to keep it under control. She had thoroughly enjoyed delivering the dressing down in the moment, but now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, she was mortified. Nate had told her that these kinds of parties were important, and she had turned around and made a scene. Her voice, she realized now, had been ridiculously loud, and plenty of people were watching her with ill-concealed disapproval.
“Hey,” he said, lifting her chin so that she had no choice but to look at him, “you don’t have anything to be sorry for. That guy had it coming.”
“But—"
“But nothing,” he insisted, “we’re at a sponsor party. Do you see any cameras rolling?”
“No,” she whispered again, although she couldn't help beginning to smile. Nate seemed to have that effect on her.
“That’s right, no cameras. And when there are no cameras recording, it’s private time. Anything I do outside of the reach of the cameras is private. And you can take that to the bank.”
Athena looked deep into his eyes and shivered. She had an idea what kind of things he was talking about doing now, and she was pretty sure she was going to enjoy them.
10
“I don’t get it, Mr. Grant! Why can’t I get this right? I’m just stupid! I’m too stupid to do this trick!”
Gretta balled her rope up into a messy clump and threw it on the ground, her face scrunched into an expression of frustration that was enough to break a man's heart. For his part, Nate had to make an effort not to laugh. Gretta was a willful child, and for a nine-year-old, he thought she acted a little young for her age. Nate had no experience with kids outside of Ian’s kid and Athena's class, but he could see that Gretta acted younger than her classmates.
Still, Nate had a soft spot for the girl. He had a soft spot for all of Athena’s girls, much to his surprise. He'd been fully expecting to suffer his way through each and every session with the kids, counting down the seconds until he was free again. In reality, the classes he'd agreed to be a part of for the sake of PR had ended a week ago, leaving him ample time to focus on the competition and nothing else, and yet he kept coming back. He'd even started turning his phone off while he was teaching, to keep from getting distracted. He wanted to give these kids his undivided attention while he was with them. He wanted to feel useful doing something for somebody else for a change.
"Hey now, Gretta, I'll thank you not to talk that way about my number one girl," he said, picking the rope back up again and handing it over gently to her. She looked at it for a moment, her face full of indecision, and then took it from him reluctantly.
"Who's your number one girl, Mr. Grant?" she asked, her face screwing up with determination as she positioned her hand on the rope, "Is it Miss Athena?"
“Well, I was actually talking about you, Gretta, but sure, I guess you could say Miss Athena is up there on the list.”
Nate watched Gretta go to work and tried not to show his surprise. It was unnerving, how much kids picked up on. Because Gretta wasn’t wrong. Every day Nate spent with Athena, he liked her more. When the two of them weren’t working on something together, he spent more time than he wanted to admit thinking about her. He wasn’t able to help himself.
He thought part of it was being home. He hadn't been in one place for such a long time since leaving when he was seventeen, and he was finding it more difficult than he ever would have expected. It wasn't boredom either, which would have made sense. It was the lack of purpose that had him all messed up, the feeling of being disconnected. He was awestruck watching Ian and Jonah with their wives
and their businesses. They were so established, so adult, and it made him look at his own life through a different lens. It wasn't that he was unhappy, not exactly, but he couldn't help evaluating things a little differently. He felt adrift and latching onto Athena's class was the only way he could think of to combat that feeling.
“Look, Mr. Grant!” Gretta shouted, her gleeful voice cutting through his thoughts, “Look, I’m doing it! I’m starting to do it!”
“I told you, little lady. You can absolutely do this. And from now on, I only want to hear you say good things about yourself. Got it?” he asked, grinning at her obvious joy.
“Got it!” she shouted, tossing the rope in front of her and then drawing it back in towards her again. Nate took a step back, chuckling and shoving his hands in his pockets. He was so engrossed in watching her progress that he didn’t notice Shelly coming into the barn.
“All right, girls!” she shouted, clapping briskly to get their attention, “class time is up! We’ve already got some parents waiting out front, so get a hustle on.”
Nate oversaw the girls cleaning their things up and followed them towards the exit. He was almost out the door when Shelly put a hand on his arm.
“Sorry, Nate, I just remembered. Athena called for you a couple of minutes ago. She actually sounded kind of upset.”
“Really?” he asked. “Okay, thanks, Shelly. I’ve got my phone off. Figured it was better for teaching the class.”
“Sure, that makes sense,” Shelly nodded, “maybe just give her a call. Make sure everything is okay.”
“Will do,” he agreed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pressing the button to turn it back on.
The reason Nate was teaching the class on his own in the first place was so that Athena could get in an extra session of practice for herself. She was feeling the strain of the added work leading up to their big event, and he had wanted to help, so he’d volunteered to take the girls on his own. Still, he had expected her to be back before the end of the class, and he was surprised to hear that she had called. That surprise deepened to a sense of dread when he looked at the screen of his phone and saw that he had ten missed calls. Six of them were from his agent, and four from Athena. He hit the redial for Athena and pressed the phone to his ear. His insides clenched, gripped with the growing certainty that something was seriously wrong.
The Cowboy’s Rodeo Rival: Grant Brothers Series Book Three Page 7